#why did I rush this in the last few hours of the year AGAIN

[hayden-christensen]

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN in 2023 #39 on Tumblr's Celebrity Year In Review list

#hayden christensen #hchristensenedit #haydenchristensenedit #star wars #ahsoka #ahsoka s1 #swcastedit #sw cast #userlumi #starwarsblr #*mine #*2023 #*gifs #1k #why did I rush this in the last few hours of the year AGAIN #the way this year's is like half last year's...I need more things to happen next year!! #anyway last edit of the year :)

[kdinjenzen]

My final words on Rooster Teeth & just SOME of my experiences there.

I’ve been waiting to say anything directly for a long time on this subject in hopes that something - anything - would change and get better, but it’s obvious that this is just “how it is there.”

So it’s time for me to finally say something about Rooster Teeth.

I joined the company, officially, as a contracted content creator and editor in February 2013. I worked to create a monthly video game news/release series. I produced episodes every month until I was officially hired as a full time content creator/editor in November of 2013.

From February 2013 until November 2013, I went entirely unpaid for all of my contract work. I was never given the payment promised for anything I did. When I was hired full time and I brought that up, I was told that “it’s been so long already, it’s not really a big deal is it?” And then the subject was never brought up again.

Within a few weeks of working at Rooster Teeth I was given a nickname, that nickname was a slur. Every day I came into work I was called “Fggt” - but they could not use that name in content so when anyone was recording I was called “Fugz” instead. For any fans who used that nickname for me for years, that’s what you were calling me. I couldn’t say anything about it, I had reported the use of that nickname for years to HR, and nothing was ever done about it and the videos that use that nickname for me are still up.

When Christmas rolled around my first year, 2013, I was given a “bonus” of about $100. Any money I had at the time was extremely helpful as I had nearly nothing to my name, so I was grateful for it. But a long time member of the company looked at me as I was handed my small bonus and scoffed “Why do YOU get a bonus? You’ve only been here for five minutes.”

In my first years there I would arrive at work around 7am (two hours before everyone else) to begin editing videos and would often have to stay until 9pm to get as much work done as possible. This was actively encouraged so we could have a backlog of content, but I was always given “rush orders” to edit more important videos to go out either the same day or next day. That’s when the crunch began for me and it did not end.

From that point on harassment started, and not just toward me. Any time I brought up mistreatment or that “making fun of people in content only encourages the community to hate us” - I was waved away saying “IT’S JUST A JOKE! Ignore the comments!”

This “ignore the comments” mantra was a way to excuse their own behavior. Anyone who was not “important” was constantly made fun of with no way to defend themselves or be part of the content in a way to defend themself even jokingly so. We were silenced at every turn.

Jeremy, Matt, and I tried to make content together as often as we could in those earlier days. And we rarely got the chance to do so. I remember being yelled at for making the Zelda video with Matt after it had already gone up because it was a “waste of time”.

During that time I was put into a position where I ignored my own physical health to focus more on work, which eventually caused me to come down with pneumonia. I spent several days in the hospital with a fever over 112F. When I was released I was back to work only a few days later and with the same work schedule.

Eventually I had enough from the department I was working for at the time and moved departments in hope that I would be better treated elsewhere in the company. I still loved the work I did, I loved some of the people at the company, and I believed that if I put my effort into it I could make things better for everyone.

The department I transferred to promised me a producer job and show running their new podcast while also being tasked to edit videos and sometimes write stories for news channel. I was never given the producer position in that department, I was never allowed even near the podcast unless they were “desperate for a last minute person”, I went entirely uncredited for anything I wrote for them, and I was pushed to edit 3 videos from start to finish every day with little to no turn around time so they could be posted immediately.

My hours in that department were 7am until 11pm.

I was crunching harder than before.

I wasn’t allowed to be in anything.

I had my name removed from everything I worked on.

I was put in an office where I was forgotten about and swept under the rug, people even IN the company forgot I worked there with how sectioned off and pushed aside I was.

In 2016 I came out as trans and many people at the company publicly voiced their support on social media.

Inside the company however, things got worse.

People had no idea how to deal with a trans woman, so I was interacted with even less and only trotted out every so often to show off “We Hire LGBTQIA+ People!”

It was only at this point where the nickname “Fugz” finally stopped being used all the time. Three years of content with that name being used toward me and all that content is still up.

During that time my acting manager began to harass me and lie to the community any time I was “planned to be on camera and couldn’t show up” - many times it was said to the audience watching that I “had already gone home” when I was in the other room crunching to finish my job and the work of my manager.

The harassment continued and I began to spiral into a deep depression, wondering what I could do, I eventually reported it to HR and the “solution” was that they brought in my manager who was harassing me into a Two-On-One meeting where the manager said “oh I’m sorry” and that was it. The way I was treated did not change at all and actively became worse.

I then went to one of the founding fathers of the company to express my concerns, and was told that I was “too nice to work at Rooster Teeth” and that I should “just quit and find somewhere else to work” - I was horrified.

At the moment I couldn’t do anything but feel horrified and powerless. I was an out trans woman in Texas in 2018 and was told “just quit and find work elsewhere in Texas” a state that actively finds ways to keep our rights from us.

Throughout my employment I also struggled to get the company insurance to cover my transition despite Rooster Teeth telling me that “Oh it’s all good” - because of their inaction and lack of help in this matter I amassed horrible amounts of medical debt despite being “completely covered” by them.

I still am recovering from this debt now as Rooster Teeth has been underpaying me for years, my raises were frozen by my manager at the time, and because of that I never received a proper raise even up until I quit earlier this year.

Until the end of 2020 I was paid around $40k per year as a Producer/Director. Far below the industry standard. If not for the help of one person fighting for me to be paid properly, I wouldn’t have gotten bumped up to the pay of the lowest paid person next to me. Which was nearly $70k. I was shocked that I was being underpaid by nearly $30k.

During the 2019 layoffs, I was actually one of the people affected. I was very nearly laid off as well, but was told to either move to LA and work there (at the $40k per year rate which is UNLIVABLE in LA) or be laid off immediately.

I agreed to move to LA, Rooster Teeth said they would be giving me $5k moving costs to pick up my life and move to LA by March of 2020. The money never was given to me and then COVID forced the company into moving to remote, meaning my job was actually saved by COVID happening.

Crunch during the height of COVID was monstrous. Every department was forced to push out more and more content and do more and more work to make up for “losses” - many of us were working 7 days a week and extremely long hours.

I helped run the 2021 Anniversary Stream Event, but in the middle of production I had to undergo life saving surgery and was told I needed AT LEAST two weeks rest before going back to work. The person I was working with to schedule that event took credit for all the work I did up to that point and then BLAMED ME for anything that went wrong with it because “I wasn’t doing my job” while I was recovering for major surgery and was on mandated medical leave.

BRGs (Business Resource Groups) were created at this time to help with representation issues inside the company. I did everything I could to help the other BRGs as well as the Queer BRG I helped lead. By mid 2021 I was told “we’ve done enough for the queer community” - which hurt to hear as I felt like we had barely accomplished anything and were still struggling to have accurate representation on screen as most of our PRIDE stream events featured mostly Cis/Het talent still.

During this time there was a lot of outspokenness for the mistreatment of minority groups inside of Rooster Teeth from former employees, lots of fans asked “Why didn’t you all do anything about it?”, to which I say actual ground level employees did everything they could. But we could only do so much.

At that moment I asked for transparency for how others, not just one or two employees, were treated in the company - myself included - and was essentially told that “the company is going through a lot right now just leave it alone”. How I was being treated and how others were being treated was once again swept under the rug.

I left Rooster Teeth because, despite thinking I could make positive change in the company, they proved that I couldn’t every step of the way. From 2013 until 2022, I did what I could to help my fellow employees, make positive change, and help the industry.

It’s also worth mentioning that for every bit of VO I did before I left Rooster Teeth, I wasn’t actually paid for any of it under the idea that “I was an employee, so I don’t need to be paid for VO.” In that case and the way it was viewed, I was paid less than $30 per hour for each of my VO sessions. Which is well below any industry standard.

But I was ultimately silenced and pushed aside.

This is all really just the surface level, there’s so much more I want to say but honestly it’s all so exhausting at this point and I’ve done everything I can.

I still struggle regularly with the emotional, mental, physical, and financial damage that was done to me over those years.

There are good people still working there, I’m friends with them, and I wish them the best.

TL;DR

Feb 2013 - Nov 2013. Unpaid Contract Work

Fugz = Fggt, reported to HR nothing was done

2013 Christmas "Bonus" $100. Long time members disapproved of said bonus

14hr work days, rush orders for same or next day videos

"Any time I brought up mistreatment or that “making fun of people in content only encourages the community to hate us” - I was waved away saying “IT’S JUST A JOKE! Ignore the comments!”" RT crunch caused pneumonia, no recovery period on return

Crunched harder, physically isolated "people even IN the company forgot I worked"

RT never fulfilled their deals promotion deals

15 hr work days

2016 came out as Trans, Transphobia harassment started

Acting Manager lied to the community and harassed me, HR did nothing and enabled harassment

Founding Fathers knew and did nothing. Said “too nice to work at Rooster Teeth” and "just quit and find somewhere else to work"

RT did not properly support medical insurance coverage

End 2020 Position Producer/Director, paid $40k. Next lowest paid person was $70k.

2019, forced to move to LA or get laid off. RT never paid moving costs. COVID forced remote jobs thus SAVING my job

RT INCREASES crunch during COVID

2021 Anniversary Stream Event. Had LIFE SAVING surgery, majority work stolen by coworker and blamed production failures on me during MEDICAL LEAVE.

BRG created to help with representation issues, mid 2021 RT said "we've done enough for the queer community" PRIDE stream events still mostly Cis/Het talents

Mistreatment of minorities in RT ignored "“the company is going through a lot right now just leave it alone"

Unpaid for VO work during tenure at RT, May Marigold and RWBY Fairy Tales included.

Handful of good people. Bad Company.

#Rooster Teeth #RT #AH #RTAH #Achievement Hunter

[winterarmyy]

Baby, Fever & Cuddles

Glimpses of the grumpy chubby alpha!bucky's love life.

Summary: When Y/N unexpectedly cancelled their date plan, Bucky’s troubled mind seemed to jump right into the worst case scenario, but the reality was not quite what he thought.

Note: This is a part of 《 And You're Mine 》 AU.

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Words: 3.5k++

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. fluffy and soft feels with our chubby!alpha!bucky.

P/S: My writing is quite rusty after months of not utilizing it, so forgive me for that. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this short fic and happy reading! 🤍

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Bucky has been staring, or more accurately, glaring at the reflection of himself for far too long now. Completely distracted with the image on the mirror, he did not notice how his well-made bed is now crowded with piles of his clothing items.

Hoodies, jeans, dress-shirts and even the dinner suit that he got last year; they were all mixed up in an untamed way. He might need a couple of hours to re-organize those but it does not matter right now.

What matters is what should he wear for his second date with y/n? So far everything he tried on was either too fancy or too tacky. “For fuck’s sake, it’s just a coffee date. Just pick one and go, Jesus.” Bucky’s inner Alpha has been nagging him to get this over with, because he’s going to be late to the date, especially if he plans to pick-up a bouquet for her.

Now standing in his red Henley, which he deemed was appropriate, he could not look past the soft bulge on his stomach. The bright colour of the fabric did nothing to hide the unflattering shape of his belly. He twisted his body to the side and unintentionally grimaced at the sight.

Bucky instinctively sucked in a deep breath, trying to hide the extra fat of his body; giving a glance of the shadow of his past self when he was but a man with a well-built body.

Bucky sighed out the breath that held, and his belly naturally morphed into the original shape. He really can’t hide his imperfections; not his belly nor his prosthetic arm. As he stares at the source of his insecurities, he remembered the night of his first date with her;

"Because Bucky, you are as lovable as a person can be." She placed his palm on either side of her cheeks, purring as the sensation on skin felt so right, "And I am absolutely honoured and proud to be standing here with an alpha like you." She smiled like she was the happiest omega on earth.

His cheeks heats into shades of red and pink as the memories remind him of her; the softness of her skin against his palms, that cute little purr she made and her sweet scent that he was already addicted to.

Before the blood managed to rush further down to his spine, he shook off the unholy thoughts produced by inner alpha. Bucky glanced at the mess on his bed from the reflection of the mirror and let out a sigh before glaring at himself, “What are you so afraid of?”.

Now that he was standing in front of her apartment, Bucky suddenly remembered why.

His heart pounds, his palms were sweating within his leather gloves, his fingers fiddled with the delicate material of the bouquet wrappings. The second date is different compared to the first; there’s more expectation, which means there might be more disappointment awaits.

Not that he would be displeased with y/n but he is afraid that she will be with him. A few sweet words that she spoke on their first date might work to calm him down at the moment, but it is not enough to make his years worth of insecurity disappear completely.

Bucky gulped nervously as he lifted his hand towards the door; he knew that he was quite early from the promised time, but he couldn’t help it. As much as he is afraid of what will come, he was as excited to see her again. She had been occupying his mind like no other; he misses her. A lot.

When he was about to knock on the door, his phone rang. Slipping it out of his pocket, his phone almost fell from his hands, when he read the name on the caller’s placeholder. Y/N. He took a deep breath and slid the icon across the screen, “Hello. Hi” Bucky’s tongue was already tied with just two words out.

“Hi, Bucky.” she greeted with softly. That alone was enough make his heart skipped a beat. “Hi, y/n.” Bucky could not control the dreamy undertone in his voice, if only she could see the soft haze in his gaze, “What’s up?”

“Really, Bucky? ‘What’s up’?” he mentally scolded himself for this choice of words. A brief silence followed his question. “Was that… hesitation?” a thought popped at the back of his head. “Ummm, listen, Bucky…” her voice dripped with uncertainty.

Bucky’s fist around the stem of the bouquet got a little tighter when she continued, “..I’m sorry. But, I think we should cancel our plans today. Umm, some, uh, something came up and I think I can’t make it...” Her cryptic reasons were just a buzzing sound in his ear now.

What was he expecting? That this time it’ll be different? He’s finally gonna have the happy ending he deserves? No. Of course, not.

“What was I thinking?” Bucky’s head slightly lean forward as he try to recollect himself, “I understand.” He replied. y/n quickly apologised for her sudden decision but Bucky was not really listening.

He was just trying to clear out the dark clouds in head by leaning his head to the apartment door. But when his hand was trying to support his weight against the wall, he accidentally pressed the doorbell.

“Shit!” he cursed under his breath. Panic arose when y/n asked if he could hold for a minute while she get the door. “No wait! y/n don--”, a few milliseconds later, the door was wide open, revealing the omega who's been occupying his mind for weeks.

“Bucky?” Her eyes widened; shocked at first but morphed into a pleasant smile. “You’re here?” she was awfully in glee to see the alpha, especially when she saw the pretty bouquet of carnations in his hand. But the joy only lasted for a short moment, until she realised, “Don’t tell me you were already here when I called you…” a soft gasp came from the smaller, her eyes glistening with guilt.

Bucky thought that there’s no way to go about this other than telling the truth, “Yeah. I’m sure you have a good reason to cancel our date. And since you’re here, umm, here.” hands trembling, he extended the bouquet towards her, his gruff exterior softened by the shy smile on his lips, “….for you.”

y/n’s cheeks flushed with delight as she accepted the flowers, “Awww, Bucky.” She held the soft petals towards her face, inhaling the spicy clove-y scent. Reminded by the time she first met him, the corners of her lips curled upwards into a tender smile before looking up at him with a sparkle of alluring mischief in her gaze.

In that split second, something was triggered at the back of Bucky’s mind. It seemed like he had seen this view before. In fact, it is almost identical. Including this very moment, when she tiptoed upwards, her tender gesture of cupping one side his chubby cheek and her soft lips pressed on the other, "Thank you for the flowers, alpha." She whispered against his skin.

When the omega looked up at him with that sweet smile on her lips, his inner alpha was ready to pounce on her and it was all from just that one innocent kiss, “You’re welcome, doll” His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her body close to his, “Glad you liked it.” He returned her kiss with his own, a gentle grab on the side of her head and a loving kiss on her cheek.

A pleasant shiver crawled all over his body, his cheeks heated up and his ears reddened. Bucky’s eyes soften into a hazy gaze that if she look closely, she might see hearts twinkling in his ocean blues.

He wanted more. More of her lips, more of her gentle touch. More of her.

Before the sounds of their soft laughter could spread, the loud shrieking sound of a crying baby coming from y/n’s apartment startled both of them to a freeze. y/n was quick on her feet, “Oh no, Daisy.” she gasped as she broke out from Bucky’s loose grip.

The omega purred in delight to his gesture, her hand instinctively went to grab on his shoulder; literally melting in his embrace when she lost her stance.

Good thing Bucky had his arms securely around her because if not she would’ve ended up on the floor. Bucky chuckled amusingly when he slowly led her body to lean back, almost dangling on his arm, as his kisses lingered on her jaw.

“Come on in, Bucky.” she shouted when she entered the living room area. Bucky didn’t reject her offer, and stepped into the foyer. Closing the door behind him, he saw how some of her shoes were organised at the entrance; he quietly took off his shoes and slipped into one of the fuzzy guest slippers that was laid on the side.

Stepping further inside, he realised that this was his first time in y/n’s home. He felt a wave of warmth enveloped him like a comforting embrace. His eyes wandered around the corridor, noticing the photographs on the wall; each frame a snapshot of cherished moments frozen in time. Smiling faces gazed back at him, capturing the essence of love and laughter that filled the air.

As Bucky entered the living room, he was met with the sight of y/n tenderly coaxing a crying baby into calmness; swaying the little bundle to the rhythm of her quiet lullaby. His heart skipped a beat at the gentle scene, though he knew instinctively that the baby wasn't her own. Any other normal person would’ve thought the opposite. But the lack of semblance in their scent gave it away.

y/n glanced up, a mixture of apology and relief in her eyes. "This is Daisy, my next-door neighbour's baby girl," she explained, her voice soft with concern. "Her mother caught a high fever all of the sudden, and Mr.Scott is out of town for work.”

Bucky’s steps stopped when he reached by y/n’s side, “The couple is not from here. They just moved from the UK a few months ago. They don’t have any family here.” Bucky silently listened to her explanation as his eyes peered at the baby in her arms; now calmed and curious of the tall stranger next to y/n.

“I volunteered to care for her while the mother went for a checkup at the nearby medical centre." y/n explained as she softly wiped the remaining tears on Daisy's cheeks, "I'm sorry," y/n continued, her tone tinged with guilt. "I know it's selfish of me to cancel our date because of this."

Her teeth sunk into her bottom lips. “I could’ve suggested a day care or something. But instead, I took the job.” She chuckled when Daisy babbled some incoherent words.

Bucky quickly intercepted her before she could come up with other lines of unnecessary explanation. He shook his head, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "No, don't be," he reassured her, his gaze softened as the baby chortled gleefully. "I can see why it's hard to resist."

The atmosphere shifted into something else; sweet and warm until the sound of the oven timer went off. "And that would be my lunch burning," y/n remarked, relief evident in her tone. Without missing a beat, she passed Daisy into Bucky’s arms, and he instinctively cradled her close.

It was his first time holding a baby. He knows that babies are small, I mean everybody knows that. But he never realises how light they are. No wonder people say they are fragile.

It's the softest thing he ever touched, he could not believe it. So, he does it again and again. Apparently it is amusing to Daisy that Bucky was playing with her cheeks, the little sweetheart squeal and chortle every time he poked his finger on her. There was no denying the fact that Bucky’s heart was tugged in several different directions whenever she shrieked in joy.

When Bucky’s hand reached to touch Daisy’s cheeks, he realised that maybe handling a baby with leather gloves and jacket was probably not the best idea. He skillfully took them off while cradling the baby close to his chest.

When he was done stripping to Henley, he brought his fleshed finger and poked Daisy’s round cheek.

Bucky momentarily lifted his gaze and observed the chaos unfolding in the kitchen with a sense of understanding, then turned his attention back to baby Daisy, who gazed up at him with wide, adoring eyes. "How about I stay and help you babysit little Daisy?" he suggested, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Seems like you could use a helping hand."

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise, touched by his offer. "You would do that?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "I don't see any reason not to," Bucky replied with a shrug. "We're…" his words halted when he thought about it, "…mates. No, not yet." his mind spoke. Stumbling over the word as he corrected himself. "You, You're my girl, after all."

A blush spread across y/n's cheeks at his words, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "Plus, I think little Daisy wants me to stay," Bucky continued, “Don’t you, flower?” his smile grew as the baby chortled and gurgled in agreement.

So, both of them took the role of being temporary parents while getting to know more about each other. If Steve was there to see this scene he’d tear up from how beautiful it was. The way they naturally tend to each other’s every need and how natural their chemistry clicked.

It was so effortless, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle finally finding their perfect fit. From the moment they stepped into the cosy haven of Daisy's world, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a shared connection that transcended mere words.

And the time flows like a gentle stream, Bucky and y/n found themselves swept up in the rhythm of their newfound relationship, even in the chaos of taking care of Daisy. Hours and hours passed, and when the sun set in the horizon, they nestled on the floor, a makeshift fortress of pillows and blankets cocooned them from the harsh reality of the outside world. Daisy, the tiny bundle of joy they were entrusted to care for, lay peacefully cradled in y/n’s arms.

As Bucky watched y/n’s gently sway with Daisy, he couldn't help but marvel at the tenderness in her touch. Her eyes sparkled with maternal warmth, a sight that stirred something deep within him. He had never seen such a sight before – so serene, so utterly captivating.

Daisy, in her innocence, reached out with tiny hands, her curious gaze fixating on Bucky’s metal fingers. With a playful gleam in her eyes, she chomped down on the cold material, eliciting a surprised yelp from Bucky. y/n chuckled softly, her laughter like music to his ears.

"Looks like Daisy's taken a liking to you," y/n remarked, her voice soft and affectionate.

Bucky grinned, gently wiggling his fingers out of Daisy’s mouth. His swift movement to wipe the string of saliva from Daisy’s mouth makes it look like Bucky was an experienced father, "Seems that way. Guess I'll have to watch out for that scary toothless mouth of hers."

The moment stretched on, each passing second filled with a quiet intimacy that seemed to enveloped them in a world of their own. Y/n leaned back against a mound of pillows, Daisy nestled contentedly against her chest. Bucky lay beside them, his gaze drifting between his omega and the sleepy child cooing on her chest.

Y/n's gaze lifted, her eyes meeting Bucky’s with a soft, shy smile playing on her lips. As she nestled further into the warmth of Daisy's soft head, a gentle blush crept across her cheeks, adding a rosy hue to her already radiant complexion.

"What’s on your mind, Bucky?" she asked, her voice soft and quiet as she settled Daisy into her crib for a nap before sliding back into his arms. Bucky wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

In that moment, Bucky found himself lost in thought. He couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu that washed over him, a fleeting memory of a similar scene with another woman.

It can’t be. She was a beta and y/n is an omega. It would be impossible. But what if…

"I was just thinking..." Bucky began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. "Yes?" y/n's voice was a soft melody, laced with curiosity as she looked up at him. Bucky hesitated, unsure how to articulate the thoughts swirling in his mind. "Have we met before?" he finally asked, his tone tinged with uncertainty.

A playful grin danced across y/n's lips as she teased, "I don't know. Have we?"

Bucky felt a pang of surprise at her cheekiness, but he pressed on, recounting the memory of rescuing a girl from a dangerous situation in a park. "I can't help but see similarities between her and you," he admitted, his browdls furrowing with concern. "So, you think that I'm her?" y/n's tone was light, teasing, but there was a hint of something more beneath the surface.

He hesitated, grappling with the uncertainty of his own memories. "I'm not sure...I never saw her face," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, a mischievous glint in her gaze. "Took you long enough to notice," she quipped, her words laced with humour.

Shocked with the revelation, his words stumbled, "But, but she's a beta, and you're..."He trailed off, his voice trailing as he struggled to find the right words. "An omega. Always was, still am," She finished for him, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"But your scent?" Bucky questioned, his confusion evident in his voice, “It changed?”

"Scent blockers," She explained simply, her tone softening as she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair away from his face. "It's a long story, we'll get there soon enough. But for now..." She trailed off, her gaze meeting his with a warmth that sent shivers down his spine. "How have you been, Alpha?"

Bucky felt his heartstrings pull at the affection in her words, and without hesitation, he pulled her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he inhaled her scent deeply. "Better. Much better, 'mega," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

Bucky briefly pulled away from her, their eyes locked in a silent exchange and he felt a surge of tenderness wash over him, his heart swelling with affection for this beautiful woman who had stolen his heart. He reached out instinctively, brushing a stray lock of hair away from y/n's face, his touch as gentle as a whisper.

As Bucky leaned in closer, the soft brush of his breath against y/n's lips sent a thrill through her. His eyes, filled with a gentle intensity, held hers captive as he closed the distance between them. With a tender touch, he pressed his lips softly against hers, a delicate caress that ignited a spark between them.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as their lips met in a sweet and innocent kiss. She felt a rush of warmth flood through her, enveloping her in a cocoon of bliss. His kiss was like a gentle breeze on a warm summer day, soft and inviting, yet undeniably electrifying.

Y/n herself could feel the steady beat coming from between her thighs, she was pretty sure Bucky could feel it too. Of course he could, and he enjoyed the symphony of longing and desire that pulsed against his thigh. If she ever snuck her tiny hands on his crotch, she would know how much he enjoyed her soft lips; and her pretty princess part.

As they melted into each other's embrace, she lost herself in the sensation of his lips against hers; his hands rubbing the naked skin underneath her shirt.

While she was floating in the clouds, Bucky was at the brink of his sanity. He wanted to make his claim on her, to have her entirely to himself. and when the kiss deepened, he couldn’t contain his needy growl. His thick thigh naturally settled in between hers, gently guiding her hips down and her heat against the layer of his jeans.

Just as things began to heat up, a soft whine emanated from Daisy's crib, breaking the spell and bringing them back to reality. They pulled away from each other with shared laughter, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment as they realised they had been caught in the act by their tiny charge.

She glanced over at Daisy with a fond smile, her heart swelling with affection for the little interrupter. "So much for a second date, huh?" she joked, her tone laced with amusement.

Bucky met her gaze with a grin of his own, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I wouldn't want it any other way," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity; they shared a final kiss, a promise of more to come, before turning their attention back to Daisy, who had already drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

As they settled back into their makeshift nest on the floor, Bucky and y/n knew that their love story was just beginning – a tale of unexpected encounters, stolen kisses, and the sweet promise of a future together.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: im in my soft feels latelyyyyy and i miss this couple 😭 anyway, i hope you enjoyed this short fic 🤍

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #alpha!bucky #chubby!bucky #bucky fluff

[thef1diary]

🎧 Max verstappen marry bruno mars

A Beautiful Night | M. Verstappen

Summary: Max discovers how much he enjoys referring to you as his future wife when you pretend to be engaged for fun one night.

genre: fluff, no warnings.

wc: 2.1k

celebrate 2k w me :) taglist form masterlist

A gentle breeze flowed through your bedroom windows as the soft morning sun shone. Inhaling deeply, you turned to face the opposite side, away from the natural light that would disturb your slumber, but you were still sound asleep.

Your hand rested on your lover's back, who had tucked his hands underneath his own pillow while lying on his stomach, snoring softly.

You peeled your eyes open and looked at Max with a soft smile spreading across your face. Even after having the chance to wake up next to him every morning for the previous several years, you continued to cherish these early morning moments. It was as though time stood still at that very moment.

You lifted your hand to brush your fingers through his hair since it would always end up a tad too tangled in the mornings. However, as soon as you did, you noticed that the ring you typically wear on your index finger was now placed on your left hand's ring finger.

Furrowing your brows, you turned on your back with your left hand held in front of you. Your eyes narrowed as you sought to figure out why the ring was out of place.

Then, the memories came rushing back to you, causing your jaw to drop as a light chuckle left your mouth.

It's a beautiful night, we're looking

for something dumb to do

It started off with classic bar hopping. An activity you and Max had decided to take upon since you had a free evening with quite a few hours to spare.

Before you entered the first bar of the night, you turned to face Max and slipped a ring from your index to your ring finger. "How many free drinks do you think we can get if we say that we just got engaged?"

Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you

Max laughed at the way you wiggled your fingers to show off the ring. He wasn't opposed to the idea as it would definitely make the evening rather entertaining.

But he still shrugged, "I don't think people are going to buy the story, especially with that ring."

You looked down at it, now adorned on your ring finger. "What's wrong with it?"

Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice?

He held your hand in his while his thumb grazed over the thin band of white gold studded with lots of smaller diamonds.

"It's not engagement worthy, you know I will get you a much shinier ring."

You slapped his hand away, chuckling, "I know you will, but they don't need to know that." You nodded your head towards the door of the bar, hinting at the potential crowd behind it.

Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you

"Then let's find out," he agreed, holding the door open for you as you began the night.

Mingling amid a sizeable group of locals, you had forgotten how many bars you've entered tonight, however the slight sway you had while walking can indicate that the number was slowly increasing.

Well, I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go

Under ambient lighting, you noticed a crowd of university students joking among themselves in one corner of the bar, and heard the clinks of their glasses mixed with cheers over the background rock music.

This bar had been more crowded than the last few, but you still enjoyed it nonetheless. The buzz running through your body all the way down to the tips of your fingers had quickly made you forget how much you disliked larger crowds.

No one will know, oh, come on girl

You would have felt out of place if not for the friendly locals who have managed to kept you engaged in conversations. But then again, Max would tell you that you were adept at reading the crowd—at least more so than he was sometimes, even while tipsy.

"To celebrate the future married couple, here are some drinks, on the house of course!" On the bar top in front you, the bartender sets a tray with four shot glasses that are filled to the brim with tequila.

As you picked it up, the liquid splashed around a little bit, dripping over the edge and leaving traces of the liquor on your fingertips. You held the glass up in appreciation towards the bartender and then downed the contents inside alongside your lover.

Who cares if we're trashed, got a pocket full

of cash we can blow

You nodded slightly at Max with a teasing smile covered by the next shot of tequila you consumed, knowing that this was another successful attempt at your plan. These free drinks were adding to the ones you had began drinking at the previous bars.

Max watched with a smitten smile as you laughed along with a few other people who had asked to see your ring. Fortunately everyone who asked so far this evening, was a tad too tipsy to question the lack of a bigger diamond, only cheering in giddy happiness for a stranger before buying you both another round of drinks.

Shots of patron and it's on, girl

Once you exited the final bar of the night, the sky's darkness started to disappear, giving way to a paler blue hue that signified the impending sunrise.

Max's arm was resting on your waist as you walked side by side, however it was next to impossible to walk in a straight line. Laughing every time you accidentally bumped into each other, your stomach was now aching but the laugh bubbling up your throat never stopped.

Don't say no, no, no, no, no

"We should do that again," Max commented, and you couldn't help but look at him with a cheeky smile. "Why, you like calling me your fiancée?"

He paused, stopping you from taking another step as well. "If I had a proper ring, I'd get down on one knee right now and make you my fiancée."

Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

"Ring or no ring, my answer will always be yes." You stood in front of him, still facing him and placed your palms on his cheeks.

He gasped and shook his head, "you can't just say yes before I propose."

You chuckled at his antics, "why not?"

Max grasped on to your hand that adorned the ring, quickly sliding it off and holding on to it. "If you're going to say yes, let me at least propose."

And we'll go, go, go, go, go

He took a step back and almost stumbled over his own feet, causing you to let out a gasp in regard to his safety before it turned into laughter that echoed throughout the empty streets.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched you laugh, knowing the decision he was about to make would be the best thing he'd ever do in his entire life. Although he knew that he loved you endlessly and would never be able to imagine his future without you in it, tonight he realized that there was no reason to waste any more time to ask you the question that's been on his mind for a few months now.

He kneeled down on one knee and made a makeshift ring box with his hands, with the ring lying flat on his palm.

If you're ready, like I'm ready

Your eyes widened when he looked ready to give a short speech, your words leaving your mouth in a rushed manner. "Max, baby, are you seriously doing this now?"

He nodded, "I already knew that I wanted you to be my wife, to be my future, and tonight seems to be fitting in a way."

You placed your hands over your heart once he started off by saying your full name, slightly slurring over a few syllables due to the alcohol still buzzing in his system.

'Cause it's a beautiful night, we're looking

for something dumb to do

"I need you to know that you're everything to me, mijn liefje. I don't think I can spend a single day without you and I don't even want to know if I can. Ik hou van jou, and I will keep loving you until my last breath. Will you, the woman who owns my heart, marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?"

You began nodding before he could finish his speech, making his smile wider. "Yes," you still stated.

He held his hand out waiting for you to place yours in his palm which you obliged to easily. After sliding the ring on your finger, he stood up and immediately pulled you closer by his grasp on your waist, capturing your lips with his.

"I love you, my future husband," you mumbled against his lips, earning a light chuckle from him before he responded with just as much enthusiasm. "I love you more, my future wife."

Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you

Due to your shuffling about in bed, Max's eyes fluttered open before closing again as his eyes hadn't adjusted to the light yet. With his eyes remaining shut, his arms found your waist, sliding his body right next to yours.

His lips grazed your ear, and he muttered, "good morning, Mrs. Verstappen.”

You bit your tongue to keep a smile from forming on your face since you couldn't help but correct him: "Future Mrs. Verstappen."

"We can go to the chapel down the street and make it official," he suggested, blinking away the signs of sleep from his eyes as he turned to hover over you.

Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice?

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer with a smile gracing your face and eyes twinkling with delight, "that eager?"

Leaning closer to you, he placed a peck to your cheek. "I proposed to you while we were drunk, completely trashing my previous plan, of course I'm eager."

"You had a plan?" You asked, shocked by the piece of information he dropped casually.

Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you, oh

He groaned due to his own slip of the tongue as he rested his face in the crook of your neck. When he didn't respond any further than that, you threaded your fingers through his hair and urged him to show you his face.

With a sheepish smile on his face, he admitted, "I might've."

"Tell me," you prompted but earned a shake of his head, "I can't."

Don't say no, no, no, no, no

"You already proposed, you don't need to hide it anymore," you reminded him, bringing your left hand in between your bodies to admire the sentiment behind your ring.

Max leaned his body weight on one of his forearms to free his other hand so he could grasp onto yours. Bringing it closer to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your ring.

"What makes you think I won't do it properly again?" He asked with a sly smile, pressing another kiss to the back of your hand.

Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

You hummed, knowing Max well enough to have an idea that he would do something private yet extravagant. "I don't think it works like that, I already said yes."

"Well, you can say yes again."

Sighing, he rested his back on the bed, laying an arm across your pillow and with a gesture of his fingers, you shuffled closer to him. Resting your left hand on his chest, both of you looked at it, admiring the symbol of your future.

Then you huffed, "are you seriously not going to tell me?"

And we'll go, go, go, go, go

His response was immediate, clicking his tongue, "nope."

You turned away from him; away from the warmth of his body and into the torture of the sun shining directly in your eyes. But you didn't budge, only muttering, "I don't like you," in his direction.

If you're ready, like I'm ready

It took him less than two seconds to adjust his body and cuddle you, engulfing your smaller figure. His arm wrapped around your waist, while his other hand found the perfect spot to keep the sun from stinging your eyes.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he murmured in your ear, aware that your previous remarks lacked sincerity. 

'Cause it's a beautiful night, we're looking for

something dumb to do

Your frown faded into a slight smile, but you didn't turn to face him because you were now in a comfortable position.

You placed your hand over his, which was resting on your waist, and interlaced your fingers, ready for a future with him.

Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you

Taglist based on the form: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @helenemandl6 @charlesleclercsonlywife @thedecalcomania-blog

#f1 fic #f1 fanfic #thef1diary fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #di celebrates

[erwinsvow]

YOU LOOK SO SWEET — RC.

“i can’t believe you made out with sarah’s brother,” your friend comments. you choke on your water. 

it had been an hour or so since your friends had dragged you out of the bar, bringing you home with them for the pre-planned sleepover that you had been ready to ditch for rafe. in that time you and your friends had taken off your makeup and changed into pajamas, munching on pizza on the floor of your bedroom while discussing the night’s events like you always did. you wipe your mouth, looking up at them incredulously. 

“what?” 

“you didn’t know that was rafe cameron? shut up.”

“he’s a psycho, that’s what she always says-”

“he was really nice to me,” you defend, not liking the way your friends sound right now. the rest of the night goes like that—you trying to counter and justify everything rafe did for you last night with your friends telling you it’s a good thing they dragged you away. 

they fall asleep shortly after, but you lie awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering what time your friends will leave in the morning. you’re making plans to go to tannyhill. 

normally breakfast the morning after going out is a sacred ritual between you and your friends, which is why they’re extra surprised when you usher them out without any real reason. you hurry back to the kitchen after their car drives away, getting everything ready to make cookies and wondering which kind rafe likes best.

rafe sees it from inside tannyhill—the white bike with the wicker basket pulling up the driveway, the tiny figure dressed in pink parking it next to his truck. you climb off your bike and even from up here he can appreciate how short your dress is, how you almost gave the gardeners a show. he's gotta teach you to be more careful.

you reach into the basket to pull out a matching pink container, walking up to the front door. he’s down the stairs and opening the door before you’ve even had a chance to ring the doorbell. 

you beam at rafe, hoping he remembers you and wasn’t drunk during that entire encounter. you smile brightly, offering the pink box of cookies to him.

“sorry to just drop by like this. i made cookies for you. um, to say thank you.”

“yeah, kid? that’s real cute.”

“oh. thank you.” he looks down at you, leaning against the door frame.

your chest is heaving, material of your tight dress moving up and down while you keep your gaze fixed on him, eyes big and blinking fast. you don’t even realize how you look right now, trusting and innocent and staring up at rafe like you’d do whatever he asked. if you looked like prey yesterday night, you’re the definition of an offering today, walking straight into the predator’s den.

“i didn’t know what kind you liked, so i made a whole bunch.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” you stare back at rafe for another few seconds, then tear your eyes away. you think he wants you to go, and as much as you like him, as much as you feel a little brainless around him, you’re not stupid—you can tell when you’re not wanted. “well, i should go. thanks again for last night.”

“stop thankin’ me. it was nothin’.” rafe steps out of the house, just a foot from you on the porch now. his hand comes to rest on your shoulder and you nearly jump at the touch. “come inside. can’t eat all these myself.”

your pretty smile comes rushing back, following him inside just like you had followed him to the dance floor yesterday, looking around at the walls of tannyhill. you’d been once before, years ago for a party for sarah’s birthday that the entire class had been invited to,  but you hadn’t admired it then. nor did you realize what other treasures laid inside.

“want milk?” rafe questions, opening up the fridge while you rest your hands on the marble island in the kitchen. you nod your head, still looking around and taking in the new environment. rafe comes back to you with the jug of milk and two glasses, pouring you a cup first.

“how was the rest of your night?” you ask tentatively, breaking an oatmeal raisin cookie in half and offering rafe the other piece. he accepts it with a grin. you’re nervous—scared of the answer, wondering if another girl took your place after you left.

“boring. i left after you did.” he bites into the cookie, and then takes a sip of milk. if he thought you were beaming earlier, you’re radiant now—looking up at him like he’s hung the moon for you. your laugh—and even that’s pretty—fills the room.

“that’s not how you’re supposed to do it, rafe,” you giggle, dipping your own cookie into the milk first to demonstrate. “see?”

it’s quick. rafe takes your wrist into his hand, guiding it up to your mouth, making you take a bite. he doesn’t let go while he speaks, either.

“now it’s soggy. see?” you nod, watching where he’s touching you with big eyes. if you’re this reactive to a little skin contact, he’s dying to see what you’ll be like naked in his bed. he reminds himself to be patient.

“i didn’t realize i was doing it wrong,” you comment, picking up another cookie, this time snickerdoodle, to break in half. he’s half surprised at your compliance, half wondering what else he could convince you of with a little manhandling and kissing.

“don’t worry, kid. i’ll teach you right and wrong.”

#part 2 to down on me! #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #yes rafe eats cookies like that. monster!

[wandasfifthwife]

(7) please, let me stay* | I got a bad idea series

—> masterlist

southern!wandanat x fem!city-girl reader

tw: angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, suggestive content at the very end (sex implied), miscommunication trope?, mentions of homewrecking, r is insecure and overthinks, bit of arguing, conflict is resolved fast though (bc if w&n have to be sharp or else r will go on forever lmao), very small injury (r)

a/n: not proofread so it’ll be fucking shit, but I hope you still enjoy.

The flight back to New York was set to leave after tomorrow. At 8AM you’ll be on the plane heading back with no form of communication with the two. Since ending up in their bed and pressed about their house by their needy bodies, they’ve not seemed to care to ask about your relationship status. It’s not them, you haven’t thought to ask either, but you felt you had reason. It was their relationship first and you barged in.

You felt it was wrong, that you were wrong and unimportant. Their relationship was built on time and trust, and the last few days have told you that yours was built on lust and summer crushes. The guilt tore you from the bottom up, but you left their house one day and didn’t return.

You had one day left and then all of this will have been like it didn’t happen. You can let your feelings fade as the months go by again, maybe even years. These thoughts were the ones you mulled over and felt yourself leaving your family to hide in the bathroom to recover.

It was a fling. Your relationship built over half a month. To say it was love, felt one sided and cheesy. It was teenager puppy love. Another person you let in and fell for too fast.

It was difficult to hide from them as they kept busy. You did too, your grandparents saw you came back and set a list of daily chores. Cleaning the stalls, feeding the livestock, and checking in on their smaller personal garden to pull any weeds. You successfully avoided them this morning, not that it should be considered one going off of how tired you felt.

It was later into the night. The sun having set hours ago and the stars beginning to scatter across the skies. Your grandma sat out in the back. You noticed the top of her head through the window, hair frizzy from the humidity.

She smiled when you came to sit by her. The little candle being the only light, a specific kind that apparently repelled mosquitos.

“Do you like it,” she asks once you’ve settled down into the rocking chair.

“I do, it spells rather nice.”

“No. Running away again.”

You held back the attitude, knowing she wouldn’t let that down for the rest of the night.

You bring your glass up to your lips, “I’m not.”

“Why do you enjoy trashing everything you have? You ran away from here and now you’re running from them,” she sighs, “have they done anything?”

“No.”

“Then why, sweets?”

“Because I’m not welcomed. They have photos lining the walls of their home with the two of them at their wedding. Why ever would I get so selfish to engage with them?”

Your grandma’s face looks sad, eyes downcast as she looks at your side profile.

You saw them pull into the driveway just then, Natasha turning the car off and stepping out, and Wanda walking towards your home. She looked fine, neutral expression as she climbs up the slight slope your grandparents house sat on.

You stepped back inside, setting the glass anywhere on the rush your room. You pitched yourself by the open window.

“Hi Wanda, what brings you over?”

“Is she home tonight.”

You prayed your grandma would be on your side, to make up an excuse to free you.

“She’s just gone to bed.”

Wanda hums, hands in her back pockets as she looks up towards your window, “wanted to invite her over for dinner tomorrow since she’s leaving town soon.”

“Lovely, I’ll tell her in the morning.”

She bids her a goodnight, walking back the way she came. You shivered from where you stood by the window ceil, rubbing your arms to try and stop the goosebumps from forming.

You got your answer. She expressed her care, putting the weight onto you now to respond.

That morning your grandmother retold the information to you, news you already knew. She stared at you long after. You felt it on your back as you walk past her on the couch.

“While you’re out could you make sure the stable doors are shut properly? Those dark clouds are bringing a storm with them, with a storm comes wind.”

You slide your shoes on, sending her a smile to confirm your answer. When you woke up that morning you noticed the room was darker than usual, the sun hiding behind your curtains.

A light shower was settling in around lunch. The rain lightly settling on your clothes, darkening where they landed on your shirt.

You carry the last bucket into the shed, shutting and locking the doors. A sharp pain enters your finger, pressing against the pad of your index. You groan but it sounds more like a cry, peeling your hand away to find a splinter lodged in the skin.

You held your finger in a specific angle so you can see it and grasp it with your other hand to peel it out. The only item with wood you touched was earlier that morning when you heaved a plank into the shed. It wasn’t an asked chore, you just wanted to since it’s been sitting out since the day you arrived, termites beginning to eat away at it.

The splinter stayed in your finger, not notifying you of its presence until you had to use that specific area of your finger. You walked the bucket to the stable, fixing to end the day soon since the sky was beginning to grow darker.

You step into the shed, setting the bucket to the left of you somewhere. The rain carried out above you, the sound providing a relaxing atmosphere within the building. You brush your hand along the horses faces if they were there, avoiding the one towards the end who’s known for snapping.

It was your last day with them. Since you left so early in the morning, you practically only had a few hours left. You’ve been mulling over the situation during your tasks. Your mind wondering as you completed the mundane tasks.

At the moment their house was down the hill. A possible three minute walk. You decided against it, wondering around the building to shut all of the storm doors.

The storm started to pick up. Trees swaying with the motion of the wind, rain turning the dirt into mud. You shut the door, mumbling under your breath about the storm as you walk back for the night. You were cold. The rain covering your body in seconds, making your clothes feel heavy as you walk down the hill, sliding once due to the mud.

You reach your hand to knock, excited to be back in a warm environment. She opens the door, hair wet from a recent shower. Her shampoo smell flaring in front of you, a difference from the past days where it’s been fading.

“I never walk in a storm, let alone wonder in mud,” you start, leaning further under the canopy to hide from the thunder strike.

“You’re very brave, would—“

“No, you don’t understand I’ve never done that.”

“Would you like to tell this heroic story inside,” she asks and leans back to allow space for you.

Wanda shows from the kitchen after hearing the voices in the living room. She looks to your drenched body and asks Natasha to grab towels.

“She could shower and wear ours in the meantime?”

“There’s lightening outside, she can’t shower.”

Natasha looks at her wife like she’s crazy, “you still believe that? She’ll be fine.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she says, wiping her greasy hands on a towel, “how about you dry off with a towel and put on some warmer clothes. I’ll put your wet clothes in our dryer for a minute.”

You thank them, not saying much as you follow Natasha around until you’re left alone in their bathroom. The weight is lifted off you once you’ve taken everything that got drenched in the storm. Their clothes are warm and fresh. It doesn’t distinctly have their smell, you realize it smells more like their laundry detergent, fresh.

The warmer clothes don’t stick to your body, allowing you to relax. You call out to Wanda, handing her the clothes so she can throw them into the dryer.

“I’ll have dinner ready in fifteen, Natasha’s in the office if you’d like to see her.”

You took it as a sign to leave, going from one stuffy environment to the next. You found Natasha sitting at the desk, focus set on the screen in front of her. It felt like the more you stepped inside the more space was set between you. You greet her, voice meek and hoping she didn’t hear you.

“When’s your flight tomorrow.”

“Early morning.”

“How long will you stay in New York?”

“Maybe a year. Maybe a few years.”

She sets her glasses down then, powering down her computer. She moves around with ease, moving to walk down the stairs.

“I don’t know what’ll happen, I haven’t decided—“

“Running away from making decisions doesn’t help you make one.”

“I’m not running away.”

She turns on her heel, “don’t lie to me. I hate liars.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m not running away.”

“Within the whole five minutes you’ve been here you’ve been looking like you’re about to run at any second.”

“And what about that,” your emotions get to you, pitching your voice, “this is the first time I’ve ever stopped trying to ‘run away,’ and you’re focused on how shy I look?”

You hate yourself for how easily you succumb and react to emotions. Tears were present in your eyes, making your vision blurry but not yet making its way on your face. Natasha doesn’t say anything, frozen where she had turned around.

“I know I’m bad at communicating, don’t you think I know that? It’s frustrating how obvious my problem is.“

Natasha calls your name, but you shove her off, “and so what if I was considering leaving and not saying anything? I almost did, and I kind of wish I did. This whole thing was a mistake.”

You look away, wrapping your arms around your body subconsciously to comfort yourself. Tears spilt when she comes closer to pull you into her. You waste no time to wrap your arms around her, crying harder into her shoulder. You mumbled repetitive apologies, every one shushed by Natasha as she tries to calm you down.

You hear Wanda’s footsteps, soft pats getting louder until she’s behind you. Her hand lands on your back, rubbing circles.

“This is why talking is important, thoughts lie and you begin to spiral.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” she draws it out, “not sorry. We want you to feel comfortable talking with us. Hard topics have to be talked about or distance gets placed between people and anger begins to build.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, I said a lot that was out of line.”

You push her off, sitting down on the couch, “it’s okay.”

“I’m going to ask a yes or no question,” Natasha says, her tone almost a whisper, “do you want to stay.”

“Yes.”

Wanda reaches a hand under your chin to tilt your face up so she can press her lips to yours, “missed you.”

She heads back towards the kitchen, asking Natasha to come help her grab the food from the oven; Something about not having any item to take it out with and Natasha was the next best option.

You only barely arise from the couch, thinking Natasha was leaning to kiss you but her lips miss yours.

“I missed you,” her lips are pressing into your neck, just under your ear.

“Missed you in my bed, I wished your fingers were mine at night.”

She laughs, leaving to no doubt tell Wanda what you told her. Wanda sees you enter, leaning back from the oven to kiss whatever was closest to her, “I’m happy you stayed. Don’t forget to cancel your flight.”

Natasha sets the tray onto the stove, rubbing her fingers onto her pants right after. You mumble about not getting a kiss from her and she’s quick to lean closer to quiet your complaining. She’s wiping away the wetness in your cheeks, fingers still warm from the oven.

“Better?”

“Much better,” you smile against her lips.”

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[azrielsdove]

Softly: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Smuttttt, 18+. This is just a short, smutty fic for my az babies out there <3

***

You hadn’t been around many Illyrians before. You remember the first time you saw Azriel, how wide your eyes had gotten at the sight of the large wings behind him. You had never seen anything like that, anything so dangerously beautiful.

You had been shelving books in your little shop when he had come in. You had turned with a wide smile to greet your new customer, faltering as you took him in. Everything about him was big. You had trailed your eyes over his body before remembering your role here. You cleared your throat and put the smile back on, asking “How can I help you today?” He seemed to have not noticed your reaction to him, or was pretending he didn’t notice.

“I’m looking for a specific book, I was told you may have it here?” Azriel had responded, pulling out a piece of paper with a title and author. You had nodded and disappeared to find it for him. When you brought it back, he had given you a thankful smile and left rather quickly after.

You wanted to see him again.

Much to your pleasant surprise, Azriel began frequenting your little bookstore. You didn’t have too much traffic and sometimes he’d stay for hours talking to you. You started to consider him one of your dearest friends, looking forward to seeing his shadows enter your business.

As time went on your feelings grew for the Shadowsinger. You felt called to him. You started to need to see him, getting anxious whenever it had been a few days since his last visit. You only hoped Azriel hadn’t noticed your change towards him. You knew he would never feel the same way.

Years had gone by since your first meeting, and Az still visited you at least once a week, often more. He had started coming closer to close, helping you lock up and walk you home. You would invite him in occasionally, the two of you staying up late talking and drinking. Those were your favorite nights.

It was a night much like that when everything changed.

You admit you had a bit too much wine to drink that night, but it had been a particularly stressful week with your shop. A sudden increase in clientele had been excellent for your business in theory, yet in practice you weren’t prepared for all the new customers. You had struggled to keep stock, having to turn away many disappointed and angry faeries. Tonight you just wanted to drink and forget about all those problems.

You laughed as Azriel told you a story about his brother Cassian, tipping back more wine. You were probably sitting a bit too close to him on the sofa, but he didn’t seem to mind. You watched the way his eyes lit up as he spoke of his brothers, the way color tinted his cheeks when he revealed something embarrassing. You saw the way his shadows would swirl excitedly when he talked about something dangerous, and you loved the way his wings fluttered with them.

Oh, those wings.

They were one of your favorite parts of Azriel. You loved the way they would catch the sun, brown and red light shining through. You loved the way they reacted to his emotions, how you could tell what he was feeling that day depending on his wings. You loved how they hung strong on his back, giving him that deadly appearance.

You wanted to lick them.

You didn’t think as you reached a hand out and lightly stroked the edge of the wing closest to you. You didn’t even realize what you had done until you noticed Azriel go rigid, his story ending abruptly. You straightened up immediately, your cheeks going red. “Oh, Az I-i’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that without even asking. Did I hurt you?” You asked, embarrassed at your actions. He shook his head, refusing to look at you. “I don’t know anything about Illyrians. Was that rude? Oh I am so sorry!” You rushed out, feeling hot tears of humiliation fill your eyes.

Azriel quickly looked at you when he heard the break in your voice, spotting your tears as they spilled out of your eyes. “Hey, no, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” He said comfortingly, reaching over to brush your tears away. You ducked your head, focusing on your glass of wine.

“They’re just beautiful.” You whispered. “I wanted to know what they felt like.” You slowly looked up to him, asking; “Can I touch them again?” Azriels eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed a few times. Finally he nodded, saying; “Softly.” You broke into a giddy smile and set your wine glass down on the table. You carefully reached your hand out, stroking the wing in the same spot. You let your fingers brush over their softness, wanting to feel every inch of them.

You were so caught up in memorizing the feel of Azriels wings against your fingers that you didn’t notice the way his hand gripped the armrest of your sofa. You rubbed down a particularly sensitive spot on his wings, stilling your motions as you heard him let out a heated groan. You looked into his eyes, shocked to see them blown wide with lust. “Az?” You asked curiously, confused as to what was happening.

“Do you know what touching an Illyrians wings feels like for us?” He asked, voice deep. You shook your head as you removed your fingers from him, wondering if you had hurt him in some way. He turned to you, leaning close. Your body was caged under Azriels, your heart going a million beats a minute. “It feels like this.” He spoke lowly, running his fingers over your neck. You gasped at his touch, heat flowing through your body. He seemed to enjoy your reaction, a small smile coming onto his face.

You had imagined a situation like this so many times before, so many nights with your hand between your thighs. Nothing compared to having Azriels hands on you, and all he had done was touch your neck. You were fucked.

You felt like he could read your mind as his smile widened and he leaned down to press a light kiss to the place his fingers had just moved from. You arched into him, wanting more, needing more. “I’ve wanted to touch you for years now.” He whispered over your skin, one hand falling to press your hip down into the couch. You gave a soft moan at his words, desire ripping through your body. You didn’t think twice before you reached up and ran your fingers over his wings again.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” You breathed out, his hand tightening on your hip. Azriel wrapped his other hand around your throat, forcing your eyes to look into his.

“Do it again.” He ground out, a low moan ripping through him as you ran your fingers down the ridges again. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He said before sliding his lips over yours.

The kiss was passionate, needy, searing. It was everything you wanted and more. You wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, the other running down his wings again and again. You gasped when he ground down into you, his tongue sliding into your mouth.

You. Were. Fucked.

The hand on your hip slid under your waistband, finding you over your underwear. He chuckled darkly against your mouth when he felt the wetness seeping through. “All for me?” He asked, kissing you harder. Azriel slipped his fingers under the delicate lace, running them up and down, teasing you.

“Az,” you moaned out, pushing your hips into his touch. He pulled away and smiled down at you, enjoying the lust all over your face.

“What do you say, my needy girl?” His voice was hot, dangerous. You were going to explode if he didn’t touch you.

“Please, Az,” You breathed, his fingers toying with you. “Please touch me.”

At those words his fingers plunged into you, your back arching off the couch as you threw your head back. Fuck. The hand on your throat angled your head back to look at him, a smirk on his face. “Now now, I want to look at those pretty eyes when I make you cum.”

Oh gods. Oh gods. You were done for. You were done for. Azriel moved the palm of his hand so it was rubbing against you, heightened the pleasure you were feeling. You couldn’t help as moan after moan spilled from your lips, the coil tightening in your stomach. You were so close, so close.

Azriel flicked his fingers inside of you once more and you came with a scream, shaking under him. “That’s it, that’s my good girl.” He murmured, kissing your neck, your ears, your face as his fingers helped you through your high. He stopped once you let out a cry of overstimulation, pulling his fingers out of you before popping them in his mouth.

Fucking. Hell.

“Az, if you don’t fuck me right this second i’m going to lose my mind.” You said, your words dripping with desire. His eyes darkened as he leaned over you, the hand on your throat tightening.

“I don’t believe you give out the commands here,” was all he said before attacking your lips with his again. Your hands were all over him, on his chest, on his wings, desperately undoing his pants. You slid him out once you got the ties undone, groaning at the thick length in your hand.

“Az,” you moaned again, pressing your hips into his. “Please.”

“Please what?” He teased, dragging his tip through your folds. You grabbed his head and pulled him down to you, kissing him with as much desire as you could muster.

“Fuck me.” You whispered against his lips, a cry coming from you a second later as he began to push in. Gods, he was so big.

“That’s it, that’s it. You’re taking me so well. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He moaned as he sunk down into you, inch by inch. Once he bottomed out he took a moment for both of you to catch your breath.

You raised your hand, running a finger down his wings again. “Please move, Azriel.” You gasped out, feeling his body push into yours at your touch.

“As you wish.” He answered, pulling out before thrusting all the way back in. You couldn’t help the scream that tore from you. You dug your nails into his back, your other hand still playing with his wing. He began biting and sucking on your neck, relishing the moans you were giving him. “I won’t last much longer if you keep doing that.” He ground out as you ran your fingers down his wings again.

“Good. I want you to cum in me.” You breathed against his skin, a particularly strong bite settling on your neck as he took in your words. Az picked up speed, hand sliding between your legs to circle you. You began moaning his name like a prayer, unable to think anything else. He brought your eyes down to look at his again, fucking you through another orgasm. You scratched your nails on his wing and he came a second after you, spilling into you with a roar.

You both laid there for a few minutes, breathing heavily and processing what you just did. You began to worry that he was going to regret it, that it was a drunken mistake, that he was never going to want to see you again. Azriel pulled out of you slowly, watching as his cum dripped from you.

“I don’t know if I can go without seeing this everyday for the rest of my life.” He said, voice deadly serious. Your eyes widened at his words, your heart soaring. You rose to your knees, pressing your hands to his chest as you lightly kissed him.

“Then make me yours, Shadowsinger.” You said against his lips, a smile breaking out on his face. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back down on the couch, kissing all over your face.

“You’re already mine.”

***

This was just a short little thing to breakup the angsty ones i’ve been writing! I needed something a little easy haha. Please give me all your feedback! My requests are open as well if theres anything you guys want specifically <3

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel smut #acotar smut

[churipu]

★ ─── KILLSWITCH LULLABY . . . ( 04 )

warnings. cursing, toji vs parenting, in a world where toji actually takes care of baby gumi, gumi is at least 8 months old, non! sorcerer au, infant doctor! reader, toji uses the zenin clan name, but baby gumi is a fushiguro (takes after his mother), reader wears a light pink colored lip balm.

note. this is also a little rushed, and it is not proofread.

-> series masterlist.

toji's always been told that he was a fast learner in the past — and he never has really accustomed himself as one. until he's managed to perfect his first latte art after just a few days of training, considering he's a beginner revolving coffee, creamer, latte art; it's amazing.

"you're a fast one, aren't you? where've you been all this time?" (cousin) crossed his arms, leaning his hip onto the counter behind toji.

"this is easy," toji mutters out, the coffee cup sitting tight on the palm of his hand — he looks at the half-full cafe, megumi squirming around in his slightly oversized blue colored onesie, "stop movin' around, megumi."

"think he should be crawling around at that age," toji hears your cousin chimes in, eyeing megumi who has been squirming uncomfortably non-stop for at least the last ten minutes, "has he ever crawled before?"

now that he thinks about it — toji has never really seen megumi crawl, the most is sit up right. but other than that, toji has been megumi's main transport, carrying the infant everywhere they go, "not really, i've been carrying him everywhere i go."

"try to let him crawl, 'ts a good feeling to see your baby crawl for the first time, y'know?"

toji nods his head, he stares down at megumi who's now stopped squirming — just staring from one person to another with his doe eyes. coming from a thirty-two year old man with two kids, toji knew (cousin) has much more experience than he does, and in all honesty; he was in no position to refuse any kind of help he could get with his baby.

the door to the cafe opens, letting a soft jingle from the bell hanging right by it echo. your cousin detached his hip from the counter and walked towards where the register was, "huh, fancy seeing you here early in the day, y/n. the usual?"

toji eyed you, his thick digits wrapping around megumi's little foot, pressing on it awkwardly.

"break time. figure i might drop by y'know? i haven't been here for a few days," you answered, eyeing the menu, "and no, not the usual. i'm actually craving for some hot chocolate right now."

"small? medium? large?" (cousin) questions, "and doesn't your break end in like . . . half an hour."

"large," taking out your wallet — you slip a bill in between your fingers, "can you put chocolate powder on top of it? thanks," and then the bill went into (cousin)'s hold.

"right, right. oh, and how long did it take for you to learn latte art again?" he asks, handing you a few silver coinages, "almost a month? three weeks?"

rolling your eyes, you spoke, "are you going to make fun of me again? i thought we were past this thing, and yes — three weeks."

(cousin) chuckled softly, ripping the bill that had just printed out, "mr. fushiguro there," he points at toji, "just perfected his first latte art, in just a few days, you've got competition. hell, y/n — why couldn't you have met him earlier, huh?"

"first of all, i'm a doctor, considering how i even managed to learn how to perfect a latte art is good enough, right?" toji raised his shoulders up a bit, a slight smirk appearing on his lips at your defensive statement, "good job though, a few days is something to be proud of."

"so . . . keep toji and little megs company while i get your drink ready," your cousin cheekily winked, backing away as he handed you your bill.

moving aside, you approached the bar table and sat on the stool, "seems like you're having fun with this job, how's (cousin) treating you, hm?"

toji looks back at your cousin briefly before looking back at you, "having fun . . ?" having fun isn't really the term to describe toji's state today — he was erratic at the fact that he's managed to keep a job for almost a week with his son strapped to his chest for his whole shift, "i guess i am in a way. and he's helpful. i guess?"

the uncertainty in his voice made you laugh, "you guess . . ? i mean — he's been hell to me when i asked him to teach me some basic latte art, 'ts like asking your father to teach you how to drive, you know?" toji raised a brow in confusion.

"i leave you for like one minute and you're shit-talking me y/n? i thought we were buddies," (cousin) chimed in, ripping a piece of paper towel from by toji's side before turning his back to you again.

"see what i mean?" toji nods his head mutely.

"hi baby gumi," you waved your fingers at the infant, and him responding by letting out a strained giggle, his little body vibrating in euphoria, "aren't you a happy one today? all dressed in a nice onesie too."

as if megumi understood what you were saying, his body hopped happily. babbling incoherently.

not even five minutes later, your cousin popped by toji's side with a large paper cup of hot chocolate, "hot chocolate with powdered chocolate on top."

"thanks."

"so," (cousin) pointed his index finger accusingly at you and toji, "the both of you were talking about me, weren't you?"

"oh, come on — it's nothing serious. just the fact you contrast your personality between toji and i," toji faced your cousin for a few seconds.

"shut up, you grew out of my personality. thank me or something," you took an annoyed sip from the cup, leaving an oily pink stain copy of your lips on the paper material of the cup, "look at you, being able to make a latte art because i taught you."

"right, whatever floats your boat," you replied to him, "break ends in twenty minutes, gotta go."

toji nodded his head your way in acknowledgement, and your cousin shot back a smile before his brows furrowed, "wait! — so, you'll be back here after closing hours?"

you nodded in response, "probably, why?"

"right, do me a favor. i promised him here that i'd bring him home, but i might not be able to make it, so . . . can i trust him with you?" toji's head snapped to the side and he shook his head slowly, parting his lips to deny the claim as it was a blatant lie, but your cousin managed to beat him to it, "you could? thanks y/n, you're the best. i want my best barista here tomorrow at work safe and sound, understood?"

"no, i—" toji speaks out.

yet again, he was cut off. this time by you, "no worries, will do. gotta go guys, have a good day at work!" you exclaim, taking a swift look to your wrist watch.

toji wiped the last bit of the counter — doing the same procedure he always does every single night before, megumi fast asleep in his carrier. his small head leaning back onto toji's chest, snoring softly in his slumber.

the clock strikes midnight and there were no signs of you, and toji didn't know if he should be relieved or not. but he sighs out, swiping his hair back before walking towards the staff room to prepare himself on his journey home.

"toji?"

upon hearing your voice, he turns his body back, and there you were standing behind the bar, in front of the doorway with sweat dribbling down the side of your head, "sorry 'm late, i had to grab something from a friend's house."

your breaths were heavy and ragged, as if you had been running a mile. the hollows of your knees where trembling slightly, "you know your cousin was lying about this whole thing, right?"

you raised a brow, "no, but honestly? i'm not surprised that he lied about this — do you uh . . . feel comfortable with me driving you home or would you prefer something else?" you pop an alternative for him, trying to regain your normal breath composure.

seeing your state, he couldn't even pick the latter choice, it's a one time thing. he thought to himself, "will it be trouble? it's midnight," at one point, he felt bad if he had to decline your offer — but at the same time, he felt bad for accepting because he was sure being an infant doctor isn't the easiest occupation in the world.

"no, no. no trouble at all, i'd be happy to bring you and baby gumi home," you tell him, shaking your hand, "and (cousin) did say he wants his best barista to be here tomorrow safe and sound, it's midnight and it isn't exactly the safest at this hour, you know?"

toji nodded, "how can i repay you?"

your face scrunches, "no need to repay me, i want to do this. let's go," toji grabbed his bag and carried it with him, following after your steps in uncomfortable silence.

"so, you know how babies are supposed to have their own seat because it'd be a risk to have them on your hold during a drive," you explained clicking your car keys, skipping towards the back seat of your car, "i got a baby seat from a friend of mine for baby gumi — since her baby is no longer a baby and all, so she gave her baby seat to me."

toji halt his steps, standing a few steps away from your car as you spoke, his arms were by his side, "what?"

receiving no answers verbally — toji awaits for you to do anything to answer his short question. the male had fatigue chasing after his body as seconds pass by, his mind was swirling with a lot of thoughts; all at the same time. and the fact (if he had heard you right) that you told him the reason you were late to appear was because you had gone out your way to grab a baby seat for his son.

pulling the door handle, you reveal a baby seat calmly sitting on the jock waiting to be occupied. with a proud smile gracing your face, you nodded in an attempt to lighten up the dark night, "isn't it cool?"

the male blinked his eyes back from asking you another question — but at this point, he just wanted to go back home, take a quick shower, and sleep the exhaustion away.

and so he walked over to where you stood. still a little boggled to why you'd gone out your way to do all of this for his son, dropping his bag to the ground. toji works his hand around megumi carefully, trying to minimize his movements so that he wouldn't be woken up. unhinging the carrier straps, the male brought megumi's limp body on his arm.

stepping out of the way for him, toji gently laid megumi's body on the car seat. struggling to clasp the safety clipper on top of his small body, fiddling with it for a bit.

"need help with it, toji?"

as much as he hated to admit it. yes, he did. no words escaped his throat, but he stepped back as a signal for help. so you stepped forward and squat down a bit, gently moving your fingers around the clippers, clipping them together with ease — you stood up and shut the door softly.

"all done, let's go get you both home!"

toji waited for you to enter the driver's seat before goin inside the passenger's seat, taking in a quick look at the interior of your car. which was just like you — elegant and simple. no trash presented around, not even an empty water bottle to be seen in sight.

the male blindly reaches out for the safety belt by his head, pulling it across his body before inserting it to the bar. silently waiting for the car to move.

turning the engine on — you hooked your own safety belt into the bar, "okay, you ready? just a heads up, i absolutely don't know the direction to your house, so do tell me where to go, yeah?"

toji mutely nods before answering, "just go straight for at least the next three traffic lights."

and so you clutched onto your steering wheel, foot gently pressuring on the gas pedal; as the car began moving, finger expertly pressing on the in-car screen, your e/c eyes darting from the fairly empty road to the screen every now and then — toji eyed your fingers as his elbow was prepped up on the door, cheek leant on his fist.

soon enough, a soft tune escaped the speakers. the soft guitar strums humming into his ears, "does this work? feel free to change it into something else if you want to."

toji didn't answer you, but his head slightly bobbed. the least he could do was to give any form of answer to you, "so, met any hard to deal customers today?"

the male was at least the slightest bit delighted at your attempt to ease the awkward aura engulfing you both, "yeah, some of 'em are real hard to deal with."

you chuckle, "tell me about it."

toji's eyes averted from the road to your figure for a bit, "about them? what am i supposed to say?"

his answer was a bit different from what you expected, but you gave him a small smile, "mhm, like — tell me about them, what did they do and all. i like a good story time, you know?"

toji puckered his lips out slightly, he wasn't really used to tell stories to just anyone. megumi, an exception. so he didn't even know where to begin his "storytelling", the silence was deafening. but you didn't rush him, "they're just bitches, i got no story for it."

you let out a string of laughter, "the end? best story ever," he shrugs in response — it was fairly obvious that he never dilly dallies, "don't worry, i met an interesting client today too."

"oh."

now that reaction is a bit expected to say the least, "ask me about it," you bluntly told him, eyes focused on the road ahead.

" . . . go for it," toji mutters, clueless to why you were pushing him to ask about your day.

"this big sister came in, probably not older than fifteen — or sixteen maybe? she was with her younger brother, who was really sick with a high fever. and it has been going for apparently a week, so that was very concerning," you began slowly, "and her parents were too busy with work, and they didn't even show up until three hours later. she was crying and all. ringing her parents, it was just . . . sad. you know what i mean?"

toji hums out shortly.

"they didn't even bother looking at the little guy, stopped by for at least fifteen minutes. talked to me, and left without the sister," you continued, "well, he ends up staying in the intensive care — she stays too because she had to look after him, and the parents are just gone like that."

as the third traffic light was in sight, toji found himself finally breaking his silence, "uh . . . you can just turn right at the third light, and go straight."

you followed his commands well, "you don't talk a lot, do you?"

"isn't it obvious?" he replies slowly.

"it is, i just wanted to talk to you — tell me if i'm being too chatty, okay?" you warned him, "where do we go next?"

"another right at the very corner, my apartment's the first building in sight," toji informed you, shifting on his seat to sit straight up, taking a deep breath.

it took you less than five minutes to reach his apartment, braking your car at his command. toji wasted no time unbuckling his belt to leave your car. stepping to the back door, he opens it — fiddling with the clips of the baby seat megumi is currently residing on. this time, he fortunately didn't need your help as he managed to unhinge the clippers from each other.

carrying the sleeping infant into his arms, toji knocked on the window of the passenger's seat.

you chuckled, rolling the window down meeting his eyes, "good night, toji."

"thanks for the ride."

"you're welcome toji, have a good rest. see you tomorrow."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

#KILLSWITCH LULLABY. #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro series #fushiguro toji series #fushiguro toji x reader #toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen series #jjk series

[evera-era]

heal me. (pt 2)

ellie williams x fem!reader, pt one here

warnings: fluff, slight angst, mentions of illness, implied suggestiveness, ellie nurses reader back to health, even more fluff

a/n: eeeee yall i redid this chapter so many times but i think i’m finally happy with it. part 3 will be the last one!

Ellie had found herself much more aware of your existence. It’s been a few weeks since your last conversation, and now, her eyes searched for you almost everywhere she went.

Sometimes she would linger on the streets of Jackson — walking home almost agonizingly slow — for a chance to run into you. If she was lucky, she would find you tending to a crying child, or helping someone cross the street. And if you noticed her, too, you’d exchange a small wave.

She was a little embarrassed about it. She told herself that it’s because she has time to pass, and nothing really to rush home to. But she’s never done this before, and deep down she knows the truth.

It was the sound of your voice that surprised her as she was returning from patrol one day.

“Ellie!”

She quickly turned her head, blinking two or three times before realizing that you were really in front of her.

“Oh, hey.” She says, her eyes illuminating at the sight of you. “How— How are you?”

“I’m good.” You eyed her torso for a moment. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

“I, uh, just got back from patrol. Dropped my horse off.” She explains. “Oh, and um… the cut is almost done healing.”

“That’s great,” You beamed. God, even your smile was alluring.

A sharp wind blows across Ellie’s face, and yours. It tousles your hair that you had so obviously tried to brush down. She can’t explain why, but she thinks you look better this way.

A few people passed by as you stood several feet apart, fidgeting shyly. “I figured it was all good when you didn’t come back to see me.” You added, looking down at the ground.

Shit, She thinks. “Damn, wait, I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay—“

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, I did, I just…” She scratches her head. “Wasn’t sure if it was right of me to go, like, during business hours.”

You found it intriguing how seriously Ellie had taken the matter. And then you think of something funny in your head, and catch yourself laughing a bit. Ellie watches intently.

“So… you’re trying to visit me after hours?” You joke lightheartedly. “Wow. We’re moving fast already.”

“What?” She asks hesitantly. “Fuck, that was weird, wasn’t it? That’s not what I meant—“

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” You say quickly, taking in the way she looks when she blushes. It was cute. “Don’t worry about it, really.”

Ellie scoffs, taking a moment to catch her breath. Her heart had stopped for a second there.

“But…” You begin, and Ellie perks up. “I’m a pretty cool person outside of med clinic, so we could always hang out when I’m off. And I don’t look… shitty.”

Pfft, Ellie thinks. If this is you looking shitty, then shitty looks great on you.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She says quietly. “Uh, are you normally, like, busy, or…”

“No, not really.” You reply. “Most days I’m out of the clinic by dinnertime.”

“Oh.”

The conversation goes quiet again. You were worried; you didn’t want it to seem like an empty promise. So you look off to the side before mustering up the courage to ask.

“How about tomorrow?” You question. “We can meet back up here. If you’re not doing anything.”

She raises her eyebrows. Truthfully, she’s surprised that you asked. It would have taken her a thousand years just to man up and do it. Typical Ellie fashion.

“T-Tomorrow?” She asks.

“Yup. Sound good?”

Damn, you were cool. Ellie looks down, smiles, then nods. Her ears were becoming hot again.

“Okay, cool.” You backed away for a moment before grinning. You break into a slight jog, and she looks back up again. She can see your hand shooting into the air to wave at her.

“I look forward to our date!” You yell during your departure.

Ellie nearly passes out.

—

The next day, Ellie had gone back to the same spot as you said, promptly around dinnertime. But you were nowhere to be found.

Nor were you there the day after that, or the day after that.

At first she was confused. And then she became frustrated — no, annoyed. Why would you act so nice if you were just gonna leave her high and dry?

It’s not until a few days later, when she passes by a group of women on the street, that she discovers why.

“Have you heard about the new girl? The medic?” One of the women asks.

“Yes! I’ve heard she’s great,” The other chimes in. “But she’s been out sick. Stomach bug, they say.”

“Really?” The other replies. “Oh, I hope she gets better soon. The clinic is gonna struggle without her.”

Ellie immediately felt like shit. Here she was, writing herself off from ever looking your way again. And meanwhile, you were stuck at home, not at all by choice.

She had decided if you couldn’t show up to the date, then the date would just have to come to you.

So she spends all afternoon preparing a warm meal for you. She wraps it up carefully, and takes one of her favorite books. She tucks her journal in her backpack, too.

It takes her a while to find your house. It required a bit of asking around, especially considering how you joined the community not too long ago. But Ellie is persistent, and she eventually finds out where you live.

You stayed in a shed that was visibly transformed into a studio apartment. You had planted some daylily bunches along the short walkway leading to your door. A small gesture, but it brought life to your humble new home.

Underneath laid a coir mat. A small hanging plant hung near your porch light.

Ellie swallows softly before knocking three times. Her calloused hands cradle around the round container as she anticipates your answer.

But you don’t. And her heart drops again, as she places another sequence of knocks on your door. She feels uneasy — what if something happened to you?

Her thoughts come to a halt, though, when the door handle jiggles and you sleepily open up.

Ellie breathes a sigh of relief.

“E-Ellie?” You rubbed at your eyes. “Oh my god, what are you doing here?”

“I…” She clears her throat. “I heard you were sick. You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just about to go back to work tomorrow.” You sighed. “God, Ellie, I’m so sorry. We were supposed to hang out that day, and—“

“It’s fine,” She says quietly.

“I spent all day cleaning, and researching... trying to get back on my feet.” You look down at the bowl in her hands. “What’s that?”

“Oh, uh… it’s bean soup. Made it myself.” She grimaces. “It might not be that good, now that I think about it. I don’t cook often.”

You smile warmly, tugging at the hem of your oversized sweater.

“Thank you… that’s really sweet of you.”

She holds the container out, and you receive it with gentle hands. She shuffles her feet.

“I, uh…” She pulls at her backpack strap. “I brought something else for you, too, if that’s alright.”

“Of course!” You motion for her to come in. “Here, set it down inside.”

You turn, tucking your hair behind your ears as Ellie makes her way in. She closes the door behind her, examining the setup.

Some of your belongings were still in boxes, in the corners of the room. Most of it was unpacked — necessities, anyway.

You had accumulated a stack of medical textbooks during your initial supply run. You also had tons of rags, which she assumes is used to make bandages when you’re at work.

As for your decorations, she finds them intriguing. The rugs and posters you had up on the wall reflected your aura quite well.

“I’m sorry about the mess.” You added, taking the lid off of the soup. “I’ve still been trying to get settled.”

“You’re good,” She smiles. “I like it so far.”

You gleam back at her before beginning to sip on some of the broth. Her eyes widen as she slings her backpack off of her shoulder.

“Oh, right.” Her hand slides into her bag, and emerges with a thin comic book. “Have you ever seen this before?”

You shake your head.

“Savage Starlight.” She pinches the spine with her fingertips. “It’s… a pretty good comic book series.”

“You have more?” You ask.

“I have the whole collection,” She replies. “Back at my place. I’m kind of obsessed.”

You took another spoonful of soup, looking down into the bowl. “That’s really cool… I don’t think I’ve seen a comic book in ages.”

Ellie knew it was probably a dumb move. She had spent years collecting this entire series, and here she was, opening up about it to a stranger. But she wanted to trust you — she wanted to get to know you — and she couldn’t accomplish that without being a little vulnerable herself.

Ellie looks up for a moment, then sets the comic book down on the dining table. You raise your gaze.

“You can read it, if you want.”

“What?” You scrunch your brows. “No way. I mean, that’s part of your collection, right?”

“Yeah, but… you can just bring it back.” She shrugs. “No biggie.”

Truthfully, it was a biggie. Hauling it to your house was an ever conscious decision. But she’s also hoping it would give you an excuse to come see her from now on. If you liked the book, that is.

You sighed and waited a few seconds before looking up at Ellie.

“Let’s do a redo.” You blurt out.

“W-What?”

“Our date.” You clarify. “I wanna do a redo of our date.”

Ellie ponders, staring at you intently.

“It was supposed to be nice, and then I got sick, and I ruined it—“

“It’s fine, I swear—“

“And I just… I feel bad that you’re even here.” You look up at her. “I’m supposed to— to be the medic, yet you’re here taking care of me. We barely even met.”

Ellie looks down at her feet, kicking at the ground. And then, ever so softly, she mumbles:

“I like this.”

The air is still, and you can feel your heart swell in your chest. Just a little bit.

“I liked… coming here, and seeing that you’re okay. Even if it’s just for a day. ‘Cause nobody thinks about how, after everything you do, that you might need some help too. You know?”

She fixates her green eyes on you before resuming. “So just… please don’t say shit like that. Okay? I wanna get to know you.”

You didn’t know what to say, or how to respond. Even if you did, you probably couldn’t. Your heart was fluttering too fast in your chest.

“Shit… It’s getting dark,” She says after a moment. “I might start heading back.”

You nodded, rising from the dining table. You steadied yourself as she began heading for the door.

Ellie’s hand reaches for the handle, but then she pauses, and turns to face you.

“When you feel better.”

Your voice was softer than ever. It was your turn to be confused. “What?”

“Our date,” Ellie comments. “When you feel better, we’ll redo our date. You can come over to my place, and I’ll show you the rest of the collection there. Okay?”

You smiled.

“Okay.”

#ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 fanfic #ellie tlou #the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff

[jjklvr9]

Once More

⇢ 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩.

minors dni !!

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

genre: smut, a lil angsty(?), ex-situationship, one shot

warnings: slight praising, cursing, unprotected sex, fingering; do let me know if i missed anything!

wc: 3.6K

a/n: back with another very rushed hee fic ;_; i hope you all like it! reblogs, notes and any type of feedbacks are always appreciated <3

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Greying clouds and rolling thunders, the stormy weather made you reminisce. Huddled in the comfort of your blanket, your eyes gaze up at the ceiling of your bedroom as thoughts flood in with memories of your youth. It wasn’t that long ago when you left university; a mere 4 years ago, prompting the end of a chapter to move on to the next. That time of your life was unforgettable to say the least, not like you’d ever tried to forget even in the slightest way; the highs and lows of friendship, the overbearing pressure of excelling in your studies and of course, love.

The first time you had your heart broken, it felt impossible that the tiny fragments could ever be picked up again. It was hell for you, the countless nights spent awake and crying your eyes out, the loss of purpose in anything and everything. You chuckle back at the thought of how helpless you were, how young and naive you had been to be falling for someone like Lee Heeseung.

The fresh air of summer with the golden shine of the sun must’ve made you delude in your fantasies that this man wanted more with you. All you ever were to him was someone he could use, someone he could have at his disposal. So why did he do the things he did with you, if all he ever wanted was sex? Why did he treat you like you were his and he was yours, pouring somewhat a level of affection enough to make you feel like it was all real. Surely, he realised this himself, cutting you off as nonchalantly as he could with excuses and avoidance until you couldn’t take it anymore. He got what he wanted. 

So why was his name lit up on your phone screen right now? Where did he get the nerve to even ring you up after all he’s put you through these past few years? You were in disbelief at the audacity this man had, but more so at the effect he still had on you. You didn’t even know he was back in town. The last you heard of him was that he left abroad to pursue his dreams.

“Hey..” his voice was low and muffled like he had his face buried in his pillow as he talked. You weren’t sure why you even picked up in the first place, why you still had his number saved and why he still had yours. 

“Y/n?” he calls out, voice a little clearer this time when you failed to respond. His low, resonant voice saying your name sent a shiver through you, as if you'd been waiting for this moment all your life. “Heeseung.” was all you could muster up to say, fog caught up in your head now that you could not think straight. 

“I missed you.”

Your body froze, yet a rush of heat flooded through your skin, as if you were about to succumb to a fever. It seemed as though all the effort you had put into walking past the memories of him was in vain. With a heavy sigh, you surrendered to the weight of honesty.

“I missed you too.” 

“I know it’s been so long..but I’ve been thinking about you. Can I come see you?” 

His voice, slightly slurred as if intoxicated, echoed in the quietude of the late hour. Despite the lateness of the night, the vulnerability of your state crept into your mind, causing you to falter at his request. The memories of his voice, with its subtle imperfections, stirred emotions long kept at bay. As you hesitated, time seemed to stand still, the weight of his words and the intimacy of the hour enveloping you in a moment of uncertainty. 

"Okay," slipped from your lips almost involuntarily, a breath held for too long now exhaled. With a click, Heeseung ended the call, leaving you momentarily suspended in silence. The phone lingered against your ear as the void of nothingness enveloped you. Yet amidst the silence, the echo of your racing heartbeat echoed, a frantic rhythm driving you into the depths of the apprehension of what you just did. Before you could fully register the abrupt end of the call, your phone screen illuminated with a gentle buzz, signalling the arrival of a new message. The sudden interruption broke through the silence, injecting a flicker of anticipation into the stillness surrounding you.

"I'm outside." 

Your eyes widened slightly as you read the text, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. With a jolt of panic, you rose from your bed, the gravity of the moment sinking in. 

With a quick glance into the mirror, you assessed your reflection and your lack of clothing; only covered in a nightgown that ended before your knees and not missing the faint traces of anticipation etched upon your features. Hastily, you scurried towards the door, your hand hovering over the knob as you hesitated for a moment. Despite the urgency pulsing through your veins, you paused, drawing in a deep breath to steady your nerves before slowly turning the knob to open the door. And there, standing before you, were the eyes that held a magnetic pull, captivating you in an instant. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as you found yourself locked in a gaze that stirred familiar sensations within you, melting away any lingering doubts or hesitations. After all these years, he still wore the same expression, the familiar boyish smile gracing his lips as his big, deer-like eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lighting of the hallway. Though maturity had softened some of his features, it only enhanced his appeal.

"Hey," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours, conveying a depth of longing as if you were the missing piece he had been yearning for his entire life. How ironic it seemed that despite his past selfish actions, he still regarded you with the same affectionate gaze, and even more ironic was the fact that you found yourself succumbing to him once again, as if nothing had changed.

You parted your lips slightly, as if poised to speak, yet found yourself speechless, overwhelmed by the sudden closeness. Sensing your vulnerability, Heeseung seized the moment, drawing himself nearer, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. With gentle yet firm hands, he guided you back into the comforting embrace of your home, the door closing behind you with a soft thud as he kicked it shut. Pausing, he brought his face inches from yours, your noses brushing lightly against each other, a silent exchange of longing and familiarity lingering in the air.

His gaze flickered down to your lips, and you found yourself mirroring the action, your heart pounding with anticipation. Without hesitation, he bridged the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet desperate kiss. With each passing second, he deepened the kiss, his desperation palpable against your lips. It was as if his emotions were pouring out, tangible and raw, seeping through your skin and intertwining with your own. In that embrace, there were no words needed—only the fervent exchange of feelings, each kiss a testament to the depth of his hunger and the intensity of his craving. Your hands instinctively found their way to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, as if unable to get enough of the lingering touch of his piers. Heeseung swipes his tongue against your bottom lip and pushes it in at the brief parting of your lips, licking your cavern wet and continuing to knit both of your tongues together, sucking on them ever so roughly. Breaking the kiss, dishevelled and breathless, traces of mixed saliva lingered on your jaw. The man took this instant to rest his forehead against your own, his dark brown orbs locked with yours in a gaze that felt eternal. 

You weren't sure what thoughts were swirling in his mind, so you sought solace in his eyes and scanned his expression, yearning for any hint to ease the doubts clouding your own thoughts. "Hee-" You barely had time to mutter his name before Heeseung's lips crashed onto yours once more, but this time harsher and intensifying than before. You responded with equal eagerness, matching his vigour with your own as he lifted you effortlessly, his hands securing around the curve of your ass and groping them. With an urgency born of lust, you wrapped your legs around him, drawing him closer as if trying to meld into one another. Without breaking the kiss, Heeseung easily guided both of you back to your dimly lit room, moving with a familiarity that suggested he knew the layout of your apartment like the back of his hand. With gentle precision, he lowered you onto the surface of your soft mattress, maintaining his position above you, the heat of his body a comforting presence as the passion of the moment encompassed you both. 

With one hand supporting himself on the bed for balance, Heeseung's other hand began to trace the soft, bare skin of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced up your skin, reaching the hem of your gown with familiar confidence. You felt a ripple of tension as he boldly pushed the fabric away, his touch climbing higher with each movement. As his fingers made contact with the now-damp fabric of your underwear, a soft moan escaped your lips, betraying the intensity of the sensation coursing through you. You try to lean up closer to him, your body responding instinctively to his touch; his finger resting on your underwear begins to move, the motion slow and deliberate. With each circular rub, he teased you, eliciting soft moans that escaped between kisses. Your hands, now gripping onto his shirt, pulled him closer, your bodies pressing against each other as if he'd disappear if you let go.

"Fuck, you're so wet." Heeseung lowly breathes out into your mouth meshing with your moans, and holds your underwear to the side with his thumb, pushing two fingers into your folds. As everything escalated rapidly, you found yourself swept away in the heat of the moment, unable to recall the last time you took a moment to breathe and process what was happening. Each touch, each kiss, seemed to blur together in a whirlwind of desire and passion, leaving you breathless and intoxicated by the intensity of the experience. The experience you've been dreaming of and longing to relive again for the past four years. 

As his fingers push in deeper and faster in and out of your clit, the grasp you had on his shirt tightens at the feeling of increasing pleasure shortly before they sneak downwards to the growing mound in his pants; gently but firmly grasping its outlines, earning a stifled hiss from him.

"Yeah, yeah, more. I need you, Hee." the said man groans with quick movements of his digits at the sound of his name moaning past your lips, his upper body grinding against your breasts covered by the gown. 

 A smirk lifts up the corner of his lips at your desperate plea only fueling the fire within you. With a sudden force, he pushed his fingers deeper, igniting a surge of pleasure, before withdrawing them completely, leaving you achingly empty for a moment. "You want me? You need me?" he taunted, his words dripping with mockery, as he rose to stand on his knees above you. With a casual flick, he lifted his shirt off and discarded it onto the floor, revealing the expanse of his bare chest, a testament to the power he held over you. 

Despite the blush spreading across the apples of your cheeks at the tone he used, you couldn't help but take a moment to examine him. His chest seemed broader now, his arms more muscular than you remembered, evidence of the passage of time and the changes it had brought; while his tousled hair only added to his allure, making him undeniably more tempting in your eyes. Feeling the subtle twitch beneath your clammy palm, your attention was drawn to the burgeoning bulge, signalling his equal excitement as you gazed down his body. Heeseung takes this beat to pull your underwear down and off your legs completely, flinging it away to the floor and joining his shirt.

"Say it again," he demanded softly but with an underlying firmness, his touch tender as he brushed his hand against your cheek before gently grasping a handful of your hair and pulling it slightly. This caused you to wince, a reflexive response, as the hand that was resting on his bulge instinctively grabbed onto it slightly. Looking up at him, lust overtook your eyes, the intensity of the moment washing over you in waves. It was a view you never imagined facing again, yet here you were, consumed by fixation in his presence. It was as if he had this hold on you, encompassing your mind, your body, your entire life, a force you couldn't escape no matter how much you wanted to and you realised at this moment, you've never wanted to. 

"I want you, I need you, Heeseung," you exhaled firmly which earned an approving chuckle from him. Heeseung withdrew his hand from your hair and began to pull the hem of your gown up and off your body, revealing you to lie there bare between his knees for his sight. You were beyond the usual feelings of vulnerability with him, even in this exposed state. The way he looked at you made you feel wanted and desired in a way only he could evoke. A profound feeling of belonging, as if you were exactly where you were meant to be. Old feelings came rushing in like waves, a flood of adoration and longing for this man overwhelming you. You weren't certain if he felt the same way, but as the tension grew thicker in the air, the look in his eyes, entranced by your bare figure, seemed to confirm that he too was lost in reminiscence. 

"Fuck, you're the most beautiful person I've ever laid eyes on." he murmured, and though you weren't entirely certain if he ever meant whatever he says to you but at that moment, it didn't matter. Without wasting another moment, Heeseung swiftly untied the drawstrings of his pants and pushed them down along with his boxers, allowing them to rest just before his knees and springing out his cock free. You gazed down at it for a moment, memories of past pleasures flooding your mind, salivating at the thought of the satisfaction it once brought you. Heeseung lowers his body to hover on yours once again, delivering a firm kiss on your lips as his hands push both your thighs apart and bringing them up to rest each on his shoulders. He positions himself between you, steadying himself with hands gripped on your ankles. He then proceeds to tease you

with the tip of his erection gently brushing against your clitoris before thrusting himself inside roughly without even a warning. The folds of your clit envelope him completely in an instant, with every quickening thrust he pushes in constricting yourself around his cock. As the strands of his hair fell to cover his now hooded eyes, a primal groan escaped past his lips, the sound resonating in the room as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation coursing through him. You echoed his groans with your own, your eyes tightly shut as you indulged in the comforting waves of pleasure washing over you. Heeseung starts to pace faster, his fingers gripping your ankles tightening. 

"Open your eyes, baby. Look at me while I fuck you." he commanded with a tinge of dominance in his tone. You complied, trying to resist the urge to close them again, locking gaze with Heeseung's darkened eyes as they bore into yours. "That's right, look at who you belong to," he groaned lowly as he quickened his pace; yet you don't miss the smirk forming on the corner of his lips. The slickness of your gushing clit made his movements effortless as he slid in and out of you, overwhelming you with a high you could not replicate without him. Heeseung was like a drug you were addicted to, irresistible even with a sheer brush of his skin. 

Your hands roamed aimlessly over his bare chest, absorbing the warmth of his skin. Time seemed to freeze as he thrust harder with each breath you inhaled, every sensation heightening in your veins. Despite the lingering guilt and regret of letting him use you yet again, they weren't strong enough for you to care. 

"Mmhm..H-Heeseung. Your cock feels so good in me." Your moans grow louder as you squirm around him, fingers now tightly grasping your bedsheets but you made sure to keep your eyes on him. Heeseung released one of his hands on your ankle and gently placed it on top of your belly, applying light pressure as he leaned down to nibble on your earlobe. "You feel so fucking amazing. I missed you baby." his gentle whisper pulled you out of your thoughts, warmth flooding your cheeks at his tender words. Despite the softness of his tone, he continued to slam against you even rougher than before. Both of your chests were heaving rapidly by now, trying your best to catch your breath in between.

Heeseung buries his face on your chest, leaving gentle brushes of his tongue against your nipple before he sinks in his teeth to the flesh of your breasts; leaving distinct marks behind. Marks that showed you were his. "I-I missed you too," you managed to stutter out, your breath hitching as he pulled himself back to tower over you once more. He examined the ecstasy filling your expression, taking in the pleasure he had brought you with a satisfied smirk. 

"Yeah? You missed me fucking you like this baby?" The tip of his cock was slamming against you harder by now, it was getting harder to resist shutting your eyes in pleasure. "Nobody fucks you better than me, yeah?" Faster and harder, he pushes his hand down your belly even more. Taking his other grasp off your ankle, Heeseung gropes one of your breasts harshly as pleasure seeps through his skin. Your knuckles were turning white from gripping the bedsheets tightly as he continued to lace his groans with lustful words, each one sounding like music to your ears. Feeling the tip of his cock pushing itself exactly into your right spot, you whine out his name repeatedly. The back of your body arches, toes curling as the air around you grows hotter with every nerve on edge. A whirlwind of emotions rushed through you all at once, lost in the throes of ecstasy as your vision and mind grew hazier by the second. 

"O-only you, Hee. Only you fuck me this good." Your louder moans indicated you were nearing the climax, the intensity building with each passing moment. Sensing this, Heeseung quickened his thrusts, both of you on the verge of reaching the pinnacle of pleasure together. 

"Cum with me like my good girl, yeah?" Hoarse, low groans escaped from his lips with each accelerated movement, echoing your own whines of pleasure. With one final deepened jab at just the right spot, you cry his name loudly as so does he with yours; feeling the surge of his warmth fluid fill you to the brim. "Fuck." you hear him mumble under his breath as he tries to catch it. Lost in the aftermath of pleasure, you were dazed, unable to comprehend the implications of what had just transpired. Yet, with his chest resting gently against yours and his soft kiss, a feeling of completeness washed over you. With his head now rested on your breasts, you both stay like that for a while basking in the stillness of the moment only to be occupied with controlled breaths. 

The moment Heeseung pulls himself out of you and rests your legs down on the mattress, the momentary feeling vanishes in an instant. You observed his quiet yet swift departure from the bed, his silhouette disappearing into the connected bathroom and back to you with a wet towel. In the quiet of the room, your eyes fixated on Heeseung as he meticulously cleaned you up; and though you wanted to say something, anything, no words came out. What was there to say? You knew deep down that this was how it was going to end, that it was no different from before. What made you think it would be any different this time? This time, you only had yourself to blame.

As Heeseung picked up his clothes, dressing himself in silence with his eyes fixed on the ground, you couldn't help but feel a pang of ache etched in your chest. Once he finished dressing, he approached you, gently pulling the covers over your bare form before meeting your gaze one last time. You searched desperately in his eyes for any sign, any glimmer of emotion that might hint at something deeper than mere lust. Yet, as you gazed into his eyes, all you found was a reflection of your own longing, mirrored back at you with a tinge of guilt. It was a new facet of him, one you hadn't seen before, but it offered little solace in the face of the inevitable farewell. "I'm sorry," his voice finally broke the heavy silence, leaning down to press a fleeting kiss on your temple. With that he turned away, his departure signalling the end of this fleeting chapter in your life once more.

Heeseung was nothing but a ghost in your life. A shadow coming back to haunt you mercilessly, only to leave again like he was never there. And once more, you felt the familiar warmth of tears forming in the corner of your eyes, stinging pain in your heart just like the first time it broke. 

#enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #heeseung x reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #enha x reader #enha

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Sexual Harassment Training

Captain Price has a permanent scowl on his face today, it seems. You see him stomping around like a toddler on a rampage at lunch.

"What's got the Captain all bollocksed up? Did I say that, right?" Soap grins, then grimaces as he thinks about it. Standing together, you dump your trays before Soap leads you to the team meeting.

"Ya, doll, that's how you say it. He's like this every year. Mandatory sexual harassment training for everyone this afternoon." You ponder it for a minute.

"Why? Like, it's just something to sit through, right? It isn't like anyone is harassing our team."

He chuckles quietly and answers, "they aren't worried about the likes of me getting harassed, but that we will harass you, Princess." You elbow him and sit next to Ghost, who has saved you as seat per usual.

"Hey Luv, ready to be bored and insulted for a few hours?"

"Are these really that bad, Bruv?"

"They are, Crumpet. They really are."

"Hey! You need to address your coworkers with respect! Nicknames have no place in this organization, Mr..."

"Riley, Lieutenant Riley." Ghost stiffens up in his seat, restrained irritation pouring off of him. The woman from human resources turns toward you.

"Ma'am I have the form here to file a complaint when you feel up to it. No rush."

"Uhh... a complaint?" You stare at her in complete confusion as she brandishes a form at your face.

"Yes, no one should be treated with such disrespect. Talking down to coworkers is frowned upon." Her voice is condescendingly sweet, grating on your last nerve already. You stare at her for a moment before nodding, and Ghost tries to catch your eye, looking shocked.

"Pet... I mean, Sergeant. Do my nicknames make you feel uncomfortable? I will stop if they do. You never said anything, or I wouldn't have..."

"Hmm...? Oh no, but I will be filing a complaint." Turning toward the smirking woman, you ask, "what was your name again? Brenda McMasters? Perfect." You quickly fill out the paperwork before handing it over. She skims it with a smile, then freezes in place as she reads it more closely, her smile falling. She looks up at you, then back at the paper, reading it again and again as the words sink in.

"You- you can't file a complaint on me! I'm the one teaching you about sexual harassment! I'm here to make sure these brutes don't attack you!"

You shrug before responding, "I feel singled out by you due to my gender and your policing of the camaraderie between myself and my teammates. It is making me feel very uncomfortable, Ma'am." Her jaw is hanging open in complete shock.

You stand and turn to the Captain, watching you with a grin on his face at the front of the room. "I don't know if I feel comfortable being taught by someone who is sexist and clearly violating policy, Captain Price. May we request a different lecturer? I know it will mean rescheduling, but I don't think we should be learning about harassment from someone who has a complaint on file."

Captain Price has to smother his grin and bite back laughter at your innocent expression when Brenda turns toward him. "You are right, Sergeant. Ma'am, I will take that complaint and file it. It wouldn't be proper for you to file one on yourself, or it might go missing in transit." He gleefully plucks the paper from her hands and walks out. She follows, looking ill. You can hear her trying to get the Captain to stop and discuss the matter..

You lean on the table with a pleased look. "So, free afternoon, now. Any plans?" The team just stares at you, still processing what happened. You see Ghost staring down at the table and tap his hand. "You alright, Tiger?" He looks up, visibly distressed.

"The nicknames, do they bother you, Sergeant?" He needs to know now. The last thing anyone here wants is to disrespect you.

"Course not. Makes my day. The only things better are cuddling after a long day while we watch movies in the rec room or killing fucks on the field together. HR doesn't know what the fuck they're talking about, Bruv." Turning back to the rest of the team with a grin you say, "How about we sun up on Captain's grass? He won't be back for a bit anyway."

"You're playing with fire, Lamb. We're in."

#ghost cod #captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty

[simpingsavant]

Late Night

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Summary: You are the person always working when Spencer stops by to get his fix of Mountain Dew Kickstart.

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slow-burn. A gross man flirts w you for plot purposes. Promise it's very non-major but just in case.

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: First time posting for smosh, but not the first time posting fanfic. I made a whole side blog for this lol I'm thinking I want to post more so feel free to send me smosh requests and give lots of love so I stay motivated to write more hehe <3

Working the graveyard shift at a 24-hour convenience store is generally not a good idea. Except this one is in a nice area of LA, you’re almost always working with someone, and it’s slow enough that you can get your grad school work done.

Four months ago, when you were first looking at the help wanted sign in the window, you decided you would give it a week to see if it was actually worth it. Now, you were contently typing away on your computer as a group of middle-aged people grabbed alcohol and snacks. They were fancily dressed but the expressions on their faces were reminiscent of college students who were partying through the night like they owned it. When they came up with a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and enough snacks to last them weeks, you happily scanned the items.

The silver fox dressed in a deep, blue suit dropped a twenty in the tip jar.

“Thank you,” You said, handing him a receipt as his cohorts grabbed the food.

The bell jingled as they left. Your coworker was in the back taking inventory. You looked down at your laptop, rereading the last couple of sentences as you found your place in the research essay you’d been taking notes from.

You loved your job. You worked from 11 pm to 8 am and although it took you time to adjust to a new sleep schedule, it was worth it. You were paid slightly more since you were working such an atrocious shift and you never interacted with your boss. Occasionally, he would message you that he was coming in early to talk, but he often just texted about what he wanted you to get done.

Until 1 am, you were working with Michael, a young man who was in his senior year of college. At 4 am, Marie would come in, an older Latina woman who had been working this shift for over ten years now. She’d relieve you for your break and you’d come back just in time for the morning rush.

You liked the morning rush. Although you couldn’t get much homework done at the time, it was when you had your most regulars. You would see moms buying their children lunch before school, office workers buying cheap coffee, and students buying energy drinks.

Marie would man the register, and you would come to help if needed. During rests, you would be restocking shelves or cleaning.

From 1 am to 4 am, you would usually see only a few faces. You would see students who stay up extremely late or workers having to go in much too early. Since it was a nice neighborhood, they were all pleasant people and you never worried about your own safety or well-being. 

Only one regular came in consistently during these hours. He looked to be about your age with chocolate hair that curled at the nape of his neck. He came in just after 1 am and always sported dark eye circles. He purchased anywhere from 4 to 8 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart and occasionally a bag of chips. 

Sometimes, you’d see him in the morning again before you were off. He’d buy a cheap coffee and some fruit.

For the first month, you were too concerned with doing your job well to start any conversations besides pleasantries. He was, however, the first customer you recognized as a regular. You couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would need so many energy drinks. In particular, why in God's name did he love Mountain Dew Kickstart?

Maybe you were so intrigued because he caught your eye from day one. He was dressed in combat boots and a worn jacket. You soon learned those two items were part of his daily attire. You liked the way his hair looked or the way his downturned eyes crinkled as he smiled.

In your second month of working there, you spent way too much time trying to think of a way to start a conversation.

So far, you only got:

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How’s your night going?”

“Good, and you?”

“Fine. Do you want a bag?”

“No, I have my backpack.”

“Okay. Your total is $12.53, go ahead and swipe, insert, or tap your card. Would you like your receipt?”

Sometimes he said yes, sometimes he said no. A few times, your hands would brush. He was always so warm, your cold hands lingering as he bashfully smiled and looked away.

“Have a good one.”

“You too.”

His hair was getting longer and you thought it suited him well. You wanted nothing more than a reason to hold a genuine conversation with him.

During your third month, that reason finally came.

He walked in, luscious locks replaced with a buzz cut and you couldn’t help but go “Oh wow.”

“Is it that bad?” He joked, rubbing the top of his head.

“No, no,” You immediately said, hands moving rapidly. “It just surprised me.” A beat of silence followed before you added, “You pull it off.” He really did, but you also took that as a sign you liked him a little too much. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Thanks, it was for work,” He adds, voice monotone despite the little grin he sported at your compliment. He walks farther into the store, toward the opposite wall with the display of drinks.

“For work? Are you joining the army?” You question, stumbling over your words slightly as you realize that it’s finally happening—you are finally holding a conversation with him.

“No,” He laughs. “I work for this online entertainment company.” He fills his arms with five cans. “It was for a special.”

“Oh,” You reply, rolling on the balls of your feet as you try to think of ways to keep the conversation going. “Are you an actor?”

“More behind the scenes,” He replies, coming up to the counter and placing his drinks down. He grabs a bag of chips from the front display.

“That’s cool,” You say, picking up the first can as you begin scanning.

He shrugs, “I’m sure half the city does stuff online.”

“I doubt that,” You scoff. “Maybe half does entertainment, but definitely not exclusively online content.” Feeling a little bad for shutting him down, you look up at him for a moment, expecting to see disappointment or annoyance.

Instead, he’s smiling. It’s not a large smile, but it quells your anxiety.

“You’re probably right,” He answers, fishing out his card.

“I usually am,” You joke, giving him a quick look before clicking away on your screen. “Your total is $10.54.”

He lets out a short laugh that makes your insides flip with satisfaction. “I’m Spencer by the way,” He offers, putting away his card after the reader beeps.

“Y/N,” You say, tapping your name tag. “Do you want your receipt, Spencer?”

“Sure, Y/N,” He answers, putting his drinks into his backpack.

You rip it from the printer and hold it out. The way he said your name makes you shiver. He takes the receipt and bids you farewell.

You see him in the morning and you’re eighty percent sure he times it to check out with you instead of Marie. Today he opted for an iced coffee with lots of cream and a plastic container of chopped mango.

“Good morning, Spencer. How’d you sleep?”

“Good, but not long enough. What about you?”

You see a flash of realization on his face as soon as he says it, but you’re speaking before he can correct himself.

“Haven’t slept yet, but I get off in ten minutes and will be able to sleep till five today so that’s nice.”

“What’s at five?”

“Class. They’re in the evening since so many grad students work day jobs.” You tap away on the screen. “Would you like your receipt?”

“Nah, just toss it.” He picks up the drink and fruit. “See ya later, Y/N.”

“See you,” You reply, crumpling the receipt and throwing it in the small trash bin under your register before waving to the next customer.

~~

Since then, Spencer has come in every night without fail and sparked a conversation with you. You learn that the company he works for is called Smosh and you think the name is vaguely familiar. He asks you what you’re studying and why you’re always on your laptop.

The next month and a half goes by quickly. You come to expect him, anticipating his nightly visits. He has recently started staying longer, leaning over the counter and smiling at you as he talks about something that happened the other day. If another person comes in, he usually takes that as his sign to leave, wishing you well and exiting before the new customer is ready to check out.

You’re unfortunately not getting as much homework done because of this, but you don’t mind one bit. You either work during your break or just take some time before class to do more. You wonder if he’s not getting as much sleep because of this, worried you’re burdening him. Despite this, you know that you’ll selfishly never be able to turn him away. Even if it is for his own benefit.

Once, he came in before Michael had left. Your conversation was curt and he left right after you gave him the receipt. Michael stared you down the whole time and Spencer was clearly thrown off by another person being there.

“Who was that?” Your coworker asked, moving toward you from his spot behind the hot food.

“Just a regular,” You answer, trying to keep your cool. You pull out a cloth and begin wiping down the counter, wanting to occupy your hands. “He usually comes later.”

“Ah,” Michael says, nodding slowly and giving you a look. “That’s it?”

“Yeah?”

“Interesting.”

The comment piques your interest and you can’t help but ask, “How so?”

Michael smirks at you, “Why do you care?”

“Bro, shut up,” You hiss, pushing him out of your face and walking over to your stash of food. Your face felt hot as you walked past, and you attempted to hide it in the collar of your shirt. It was never fun to be caught with a crush, but you wanted to know Michael’s thoughts. So far, you and Spencer always talked in privacy, with no onlookers to comment on if your feelings seemed mutual.

“Fine, fine,” He relents, holding his hands up. “It’s just that I saw him through the window before he came in and he was smiling way too big for someone coming in the pick up energy drinks.”

“You’d be surprised. He gets those every night,” You defensively argue, “He probably has a shrine at home.”

“Oh, come on,” Michael says, rolling his eyes as you pop a chip into your mouth. “That smile dropped as soon as he saw me. I bet he wishes it was just you.”

“Don’t say that stuff.”

“Why not? Don’t you like him? You definitely lit up when you saw him.”

You gawk at your coworker, absolutely astonished at how easy it was for him to notice. This was the first time anyone witnessed the two of you interact and now you were questioning every interaction. Did he like you? Or did he just like that you gave him a confidence boost because your infatuation was so obvious?

“W-what’s your major again? Investigation?” You accuse, stuttering out of pure frustration.

“Yes, actually—”

You roll your eyes, but the sound of the door brings your back to attention. You steel your expression but are grateful the conversation ended. It was a wake-up call for you and you spent the rest of your shift trying to understand your feelings more.

Could it still be called a crush? You felt like you knew so much and yet so little about him. When did you cross the line from strangers to acquaintances? How do you go from acquaintances to friends? Did you even want to be friends?

After that, Spencer always came in after Michael left, his disposition more friendly when it was just the two of you. You didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad sign, but it was hard to think about when only a counter separated the two of you and he was radiating warmth and cracking jokes.

~~

“Okay,” You hear Michael say and all of a sudden you are back to reality, no farther in your reading than you were 10 minutes ago.

The door to the back shuts and you look at your coworker with wide eyes.

“I finally finished with inventory.”

He looks down at his phone, prompting you to look at the time showing on your laptop.

12:56

“Sweet,” He says, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “Need anything from me before I go?” 

“No,” You answer. “Enjoy your night.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna go grab my stuff before I clock out.”

“For sure. See you tomorrow.”

“Later,” Michael says.

He opens the door to the back and you turn to your computer. The break room was through those doors as was the back entrance which almost all employees used when coming and going.

You focused on your computer, reading the most important parts of the study and taking down notes. In the back of your mind, you knew Spencer would be arriving soon. It makes you nervous, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you await his arrival.

You have been thinking lately about how to advance your relationship. Maybe get more personal with the information or invite him to hang out outside of your job. The idea makes you queasy because you worry about ruining everything by trying to get more.

You finished the reading and moved on to another class assignment. Spencer came in soon after, his lips quirked up and no jacket on. The weather was getting warmer and it was rather dry. You could absolutely walk around with only a T-shirt and jeans on despite the time.

This, however, drew your eyes to his arms immediately. They weren’t as hairy as you were expecting, his beard and how quickly his hair grew back making you think they would be. He wasn’t very muscley in any way, but your eyes shamelessly lingered on his biceps longer than you wanted.

His skin was littered with freckles and tattoos, black ink that started at his forearm and rose past his t-shirt. You could spend hours looking at them, a couple of them immediately garnering your interest.

“Hey,” You greeted, your eyes snapping up to his face. You were pretty sure he caught you, but he thankfully said nothing. Maybe he was used to his tattoos being looked at, an easy cover considering you weren’t just looking at his tattoos.

“Hey, how’s your night?” He makes his way across the store with ease, eyes staying on you.

“Fine, it’s extra slow tonight.”

“That’s nice,” He’s speaking loud enough that you can hear him from far away. “Are you getting a lot of homework done?”

“Yeah,” You replied. “Finals are coming up and I’m working on all the trivial homework now so I can study and work on the final essays in the library.”

“Is this your final year?”

“Sort of. I’ll be getting my masters after this, but I’m on an automated track for my PhD.”

There’s silence as he grabs a final can and walks up to the front. It’s almost awkward, but you aren’t sure why. It seems like he wants to ask you something, but is struggling to say it.

You start scanning his items, letting him think instead of trying to fill the space with meaningless talk.

“Are you still working here over the summer?”

“I am,” You light up, realizing why he was nervous. It sent a spark through your body to think about him missing you.

God, you wanted him so bad.

“I’m also doing some research work for a professor though,” You add. “I’m honestly too busy to have a job and it will only get worse in the upcoming year, but I need the money and this is the best option for pay and the ability to do homework.”

“Damn,” Spencer sighs. “I’m sorry about that.”

His voice is soft and sincere. It throws you off for a moment, not used to this kind of sympathy. Your social circle consists of Michael, Marie, and other students who were also going through their own shit.

“Oh, it's nothing,” You shyly reply, eyes falling to the counter and lips forming a tight line as your mind races.

“No, seriously,” Spencer insists. “It must be so difficult and yet you never seem like you’re struggling.”

With a large breath, you finally accept his compliment. “Thank you, that’s very nice of you.” You look up to see that his gaze is already on you and you hold eye contact for an absurd amount of time. You’re sure any onlookers would consider the scene intense.

The pressure of the moment builds, compressing your lungs.

“Um, anyways, your total is $9.54,” You say, breaking the silence and eye contact.

“Oh, right.”

Spencer shoves his hand into his pocket to grab his wallet and you once again admire his arms as he’s busy.

“How was work today?” You ask, wanting to dissipate the intensity of the moment.

“Long.” He answers. “This week is a filming week so I’ve been busy as hell working behind the camera and being in a few videos too. Tomorrow is Friday though and I don’t have to be in till 11 am.”

You hum in acknowledgment, “That sucks.” 

Long ago, when curiosity finally got to you, you looked up Smosh. You realized quickly that the name was familiar because it was quite popular back in OG YouTube. You spent an hour exploring their channels before growing bored and looking up videos with Spencer specifically. It was weird and you could only watch in short increments of time before needing a break. You felt like you were violating his privacy, but struggled to stop when you realized just how funny he was, his humor translating perfectly on camera. He held your attention in so many videos, quick quips making you burst out laughing.

You also note the differences in how he talks to you and how he talks to the camera. Although quiet, he cracks jokes almost every time he speaks. His coworkers seem like friends and you’re sure that helps to comfort any nerves he would have on screen. However, they were obviously trained on-camera talent whereas he simply fell into it because of how much the audience liked him. Around you, he made jokes, but he also seemed to shed the demeanor he developed for videos. Not every sentence was about entertaining.

They were real. Real discussions with real problems no matter how mundane.

“Yeah, but at least we are getting it done. Next week is all at my computer or in meetings,” He adds, tucking away his card and putting his drinks into his backpack. “Anyways, so, when is your finals week?”

“In two weeks technically, but I have a couple of major things going on next week,” You answer, taking a seat on the stool next to you.

“Like what?” Spencer inquires, a light in his eyes that sends a shiver up your spine.

“Well, I’m taking four classes. Two of them have an exam and a final essay. One has a final essay and matching presentation, and then last is a group assignment that also has a presentation and essay.”

“Oh no, not a group assignment,” Spencer interjects, empathy on the tip of his tongue.

“I know,” You agree, nerves falling away as you ease into familiar territory. “People in masters programs are not as bad but they can still be pretty clueless and unhelpful.” You shake your head in frustration, “Like this one guy in my group, he thinks he is so edgy and smart. He takes no criticism but also doesn’t put in enough work. He’s basically made me his personal target and I literally have a group chat with two other members just to rant when he says the stupidest shit.”

“Damn, sounds like an ass.”

“He is,” You groan, closing your eyes. “But we are almost done. We have the essay due next week and then presentations during the finals period.” You grin in relief, “After that, I have two weeks of break before starting my internship with the professor.”

“Are you getting paid for that?” Spencer asks.

The conversation was flowing easily, his interest in your life more evident than ever. It isn’t lost on you that he’s exhibiting every sign of attentive listening and it makes your insides twist. He’s leaning forward, fingers tapping away on the counter as he nods periodically.

“Only in experience,” You sigh. “Money would be great, but I’d rather learn from this and not get paid than not do it at all. I only have to dedicate 12 hours a week to it anyway and that’s not much considering my usual schedule is jam-packed.”

“What’s the study about?” He asks, holding your gaze more often than usual. You find it hard to reciprocate, too nervous to engage in whatever he is doing. You aren’t sure if you could call it flirting because he definitely wasn’t complimenting you, but he was acting differently enough that it was noticeable.

Before you can answer, a customer walks in, the bell ringing in your ears as you look at the brunette in front of you. You expect him to leave like every time before, but he doesn’t move. Although thrown off slightly, you recover quickly and answer his question. When the customer is ready to check out, Spencer simply steps to the side but lingers near. As soon as the man leaves, Spencer is right back where he was and asking you another question that keeps you talking.

He leaves twenty minutes later, eyes half-lidded and tired. You don’t see him that morning, likely because he doesn’t have to go into the office as early as usual. Despite logic, you still miss him.

~~

When Spencer comes in that night, he’s later than usual. Not by much, it’s not even 2 am when he walks through the door. And yet, he’s apologetic.

“Hey, sorry,” He mumbles, coming right up to the counter.

Taken aback, your hands slip from your keyboard and you stand up straight. Fridays were always the busiest weekday and although you did wonder where Spencer was, you didn’t have much time to think about it.

“I was playing a game and totally lost track of time,” He continued, a touch more out of breath than usual. He runs a hand through his short, recently bleached hair.

“No worries,” You say, not quite sure why he’s apologizing. It’s not like you had a set time to hang out or do something together. “Need to come get a drink so you can keep going?” You ask, trying to dissipate the awkward feeling that was bubbling up. You didn’t want to let yourself assume more than was reality.

“No, no, I mean,” He stumbles, “I probably will go back to playing, I just—never mind.” He looks down, staring at the counter, specifically the display of scratchers in the built-in glass case.

God, this felt so weird. You shouldn’t have said that, maybe he actually wanted to see you but then you ruined it by making it about the drinks and not you.

“So, what game were you playing?” You ask, the air feeling stuffy.

After a relieved sigh, Spencer goes into the details. You listen intently because not only is he a good storyteller, but you also genuinely care about his interests.

As he rants about some game mechanic, your mind begins to wander. More precisely, you wonder if your affection for him is obvious. Even from the short interaction you had in front of Michael, he could tell there was something more going on. To a stranger would it be obvious? To your friends would it be obvious? Would they say you two would make a cute couple? Or would they not see the chemistry?

“Oh, that’s frustrating,” You say, picking up on the pause in his monologue.

“Eh,” He shrugs, “It’s life.” He leans over the counter, shoulders more relaxed than when he first entered. “I needed a break anyway. So, how’s your night been?”

“Well,” You begin. “I felt rather lost without you.” Sarcasm is dripping off your tongue and Spencer immediately smiles. “My internal clock is all screwed up.”

“You poor thing,” He says, playing along.

“You, sir, need to take your responsibility more seriously,” You laugh, sitting back down in your chair and leaning over to grab your water. “More than half an hour late, I’m sure your body is screaming for a Mountain Dew.”

“Not just a Mountain Dew,” He protests, “A Mountain Dew Kickstart.”

You giggle, just about to add something before the bell rings and your eyes immediately shift to the front door. The patron, dressed in black jeans, a blue hoodie, and a leather jacket, comes up to you immediately. In the fifteen-foot walk between you and the door, you notice he is at least twenty years older than you, skin wrinkling and sagging with age. His clothes are worn, fraying at the seams. When he pushes forward, Spencer immediately slinks away, stepping over to look at the opposite wall of food. The stranger places his hands on the counter and you see dirt under his nails.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse.

“Two packs of the Marlboro Red,” He commands, his eyes dragging up and down your body. Just as you turn to grab the cigarettes, you can see a smirk forming on his lips.

You sigh, taking a moment to harden your exterior before turning around to scan the packs. These kinds of customers were uncommon for the area, but still came in enough for you to pick them out of a crowd immediately. Usually, they leave easily enough.

“Anything else?” You ask, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Two of those beef taquitos, hun,” He says, a dirty finger pressing against the warm glass.

You feel a wave of cold at the name but move aside to grab the hot food without any fuss. The sooner he leaves the better. When you hand them over to him, he purposefully moves his hand far enough forward that it touches yours. You are vaguely aware of Spencer in the background, but force your eyes off him.

You can deal with this on your own just fine.

The stranger's eyes linger on your hand and you snatch it away, typing on the tablet to add the taquitos to his total.

“Anything else?” You echo, voice more curt than before.

“Hmm,” He hums contemplatively, putting his finger to his chin like he’s performing. “I suppose I’ll take your number too.”

You fake a laugh, looking into his eyes for only a moment before going back to your screen. “Although I’m flattered, I don’t give my number to strangers.” A few more taps to the device, “Your total is $22.37.”

“Well,” He leans forward and reads off your name from the tag. It sounds sickly coming from his lips. “My name is Mark. Give me your number and then we won’t be strangers.” He pulls out his card to pay, shoving the cigarettes into his pockets.

You give him a forced smile, resting your hand on your heart while you try to let him down gently. “Nice to meet you, Mark, but still. I am not interested.”

“Why?” He questions, “You got a boyfriend?”

You debate telling him you’re in a relationship. Maybe it will get him to leave, maybe he’ll just suggest you cheat. It’s always difficult to tell.

“Dude,” You hear a voice speak up. “You’re holding up the line.”

Mark turns around to see Spencer a few feet behind. You have to crane your neck to see him, the brunette lining up down an aisle. He’s holding some random items, clearly having wandered around the store, paying attention but trying to look like he was merely shopping.

Just before Mark can say anything, Spencer is pushing forward and shouldering past. “Just take the L and move on,” He deadpans, his voice low and foreboding. He stares down the stranger, putting his items onto the counter without even looking away. He’s half a head shorter than the guy, but his presence alone makes up for that tenfold.

“Here’s your receipt,” You quietly interject, holding it out. Half of you was thankful for the interruption, but the other half of you was annoyed. Despite that, you choose to use this opportunity to end the conversation.

With a huff, Mark snatches the receipt from your hand.

“Whatever,” He mumbles to himself, “Bitch.”

The bell dings as he exits, leaving you and Spencer in a loud silence. You let out a shaky breath.

“Oh my god,” Spencer begins. His words draw your gaze away from the door and to him. You can see the concern on his face and the disgust in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You have a moment to say before he’s talking again.

“What an ass. Do you not have a panic button?”

“I do,” You answer, “But that’s for robberies.”

“Or this!” He protests, gesturing at the door where the man had exited. “You need to stay safe.”

“I was staying safe,” You defend.

“I can’t believe they have you alone at this time of night,” Spencer continues, seemingly not registering your words. “Like, anyone can just come in here!”

“Spencer,” You say, trying to grab his attention.

“You should never have to deal with that kind of–”

“Spencer,” You repeat, finally getting him to shut up.

“What?”

“It’s fine, I can deal with this on my own. You didn’t need to help,” You explain, wishing the moment would simply pass so you could move on.

“Just because you can deal with it on your own doesn’t mean you have to,” He argues, his voice softer than before.

His words leave you at a loss, unsure how to respond. He breaks the silence before you can.

“How often does this happen?”

“Not often,” You say, struggling to make any eye contact. “This is a nice area and usually they just give up after a couple of tries.”

Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair with an exasperated expression. “Sorry,” He mumbles, the word being pulled from him. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” You can see the regret in his eyes. “I got so heated and I should have just made sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” You say, “Thanks.” His apology was unexpected but very appreciated. “I am fine.”

Spencer nods, the moment feeling slightly awkward as the resolution comes. “When does the next person get here?” He asks.

“Four,” You answer, taking a chance to grab your phone and check the time.

2:21

“Damn, that’s a long time.”

“It’s whatever,” You shrug. “It goes pretty quickly since I’m basically just talking to you and then doing homework.”

When the words register for him, there’s a glint in his eyes and a small smile forming on his face. “That’s good,” He replies. There’s a pause before he speaks again, “But damn, that’s like an hour and a half away.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, resting back on your stool.

“Can I stay?” He asks, surprising you. “For peace of mine, I mean. I’m just thinking about me leaving and that guy coming right back in. I don’t know, it’s dumb, but I just can’t imagine leaving you right now.”

“Sure,” You reply, interrupting his word vomit once you’ve regained your barrings.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You shrug, a closed-lip grin forming. “I would love for you to keep me company.”

“Cool,” He says, a smile forming for him.

The moment is awkward and foreign. From an outside perspective, you probably both look like grinning idiots.

“Well,” Spencer begins, breaking the silence, “I’m definitely going to need an energy drink to stay awake.” He looks down at the pile of snacks he brought up. “You keep working, I’m gonna put these away and come back up with stuff I actually want to buy.”

“Roger that,” You reply, giving him a look before turning back to your computer. You don’t get much work done as you wait for him to come back up. You can’t see him in the aisles, but as he moves between aisles, he always looks at you. The security camera screen is just to your right and you can’t help but watch him as he puts away the random collection of items.

You’re nervous, too distracted by his presence to focus on anything. You were somewhat excited to spend such a prolonged period of time with him. However, you were also absolutely terrified that you would make a fool of yourself or simply seem too boring.

“Okay,” You hear him say, already aware that he was making his way back to the front. “All done.” He is now holding three cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart and a chocolatey protein bar. “Can I also get a couple of taquitos?”

“What kind?” You ask, reaching forward to start scanning his items.

“Your pick, I guess."

You smile at him and see he’s already grinning at you. You can’t help it, everything he does seems to make you happy beyond logic. “I’ll give you one chicken and one fiesta. The beef is fine and the cheese is not good.”

“Sounds like a plan,” He laughs, pulling out his card to pay and then opening a can and taking a big swig.

“Did that guy getting some make you crave them?” You ask, a joking glint in your eyes as you look up at him.

“Am I a misogynist if I say yes?” He replies, making you let out a laugh that was just a little too loud.

When you hand him the taquitos, he leans back onto the counter, head turned so you can see his side profile. He has the drink in one hand and the paper bag of taquitos in another. He takes a bite, a comfortable silence falling over you both. You occupy your time by looking down at your computer and mindlessly clicking around while you try to think of things to talk about. 

“How was work?” You say, deciding on that as the least risky option.

“Good,” He shrugs. “We finished a little late and traffic meant I didn’t get home till almost 7 pm.”

“Oh jeez,” You groan. “My commute is pretty easy in the morning because I go opposite the traffic.”

“I’m jealous,” He replies, smiling at you. “Do you live far from here?”

A shock of electricity shoots through your body. “Somewhat. This isn’t my local convenience store, but I’m not that far.”

Spencer nods, “This isn’t mine either.”

“What?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrows perked up like he didn’t just say something ridiculous.

“This isn’t your nearest convenience store,” You repeat slowly. When he nods, you ask, “So why do you come here?”

Spencer laughs, realizing his mistake. “The one nearest me is literally down the street, but they don’t always have these,” He answers, holding up the pineapple orange mango-flavored drink. “This store is only a few more minutes away and it always has them.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s because you buy our stock,” You joke. “I’ve literally had my boss ask about why we are selling so many more.”

“Really?” He gasps, leaning in closer. “I used to only make the walk here if the closer one was out, but four months ago I just stopped bothering.”

The fact that four months is when you started working is not lost on you. Feeling confident, you add, “What about when you get coffee? I’m sure the other one has coffee.”

“True.” He looks slightly caught off guard, eyes scanning the store before speaking, “I only come to get coffee here if I’m too lazy to make it at home and running early enough to…” He pauses for a second, the sentence closing as if it wasn’t the planned ending. Finally, he adds, “To see you.”

You hum, looking down because your face is warm and you’re at a loss for words. Luckily, he’s too nervous to look at you either. You feel tingly, knowing full well that this is a special moment that you’ll look back on if you end up dating.

“Anyways,” Spencer breaks the silence. Before he can say anything else, he yawns, mouth opening wide.

“You know you can go home, right?” You laugh. When you look down at your computer, you see it’s about half an hour later. “No one has come in and I doubt anyone will before Marie gets here.”

“No, no,” He protests. “And anyway, aren’t I making time fly?”

“I suppose,” You grin. “You are quite great company.”

Spencer flashes you a smile that makes your insides twist. You wonder if he is picking up on all this. If he can tell that you’re interested in him.

“I’m honored.”

“You should be.” You sarcastically quip. “I have high standards for the company I keep close to me.”

“Is this close?” He contemplates aloud. “I’ve never even seen you without your black polo, black pants, and nonslip shoes.”

You laugh, looking down at your clothes. “Don’t you like this fit?”

“I mean, I love it,” Spencer starts, “But I don’t know how much you’re serving day to day.”

“I serve even when I’m only going to class,” You protest. “Maybe when I’m done with finals, I’ll grace you with my out-of-work personality.”

Spencer grins, “I’d be honored.”

You’re on high alert, knowing exactly what was happening.

“You should be,” You echo, unsure of what else to say. It doesn’t matter though. You could say anything and Spencer would find you charming.

“Maybe we can go to competing stores and graffiti them,” He suggests, long since turned around so he can look at you fully.

“Pft,” You laugh. “I don’t want to get arrested with you the first time we hang out.”

“You don’t? That’s usually my go-to!”

“Well, my go-to is food. Or the arcade.”

“The arcade?” He questions. “All this time I’ve been talking about games and you’ve never mentioned that you’re also a gamer?”

“I am not!” You protest. “Definitely not compared to you. You’re a savant and I’m the fool.”

“I doubt that,” He replies, a grin never leaving his face as he leans in closer. “I say arcade so I can check out your skills.”

“Deal,” You say, leaning onto the counter so you are only a few feet away. “The arcade it is.”

#smosh #smosh games #smosh fanfic #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew #spencer x reader #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew fanfic #spencer agnew fanfiction #spencer agnew imagine

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Just for a second - Lando x fem reader

Summary: Y/N "dated" Lando for a while but life happens and sometimes it isn't a fairy tale.

Warnings: Fluff and a sad ending.

Word Count: 17K

Notes: Please, no second part requests. This is me trying to deal with personal stuff I don't know how to work out, and writing helps me get it out. I wrote it in a rush so excuse the mistakes.

___________________________________________________________

An Instagram DM request called your attention, when clicking on the notification his name froze you. You doubted about opening it.

After panicking for a couple of minutes you finally did.

LvNg4Lf Hey, I will be in Italy next week. Can I take you out for some dinner?

Your heart rushed a million miles an hour.

You had kept yourself busy for the last year to keep him out of your mind, but the moment his stupid face and name appeared on your phone it all came back.

"Y/n? Are you ok?" Ana, your best friend and roommate asked softly as if not to scare you.

"Sorry, yes" you answered matching her tone

"Are you sure? You're biting your nails again"

You removed your hand from your mouth.

"He messaged me"

"Who?" You just stared at her. "Oh hell no, what does he want?"

"He will be here next week, he wants to buy me dinner"

"Why?"

"Don't know"

"What did you say?"

"I haven't answered"

"Are you going?"

"I don't know"

"How do you feel?"

"I don't know, I thought a year would be enough to get over it, but I guess not" you said signaling your bitten nails.

"I don't know what to tell you"

"It's ok, I don't know what I need to hear"

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Hell, no, it's your anniversary dinner. You go, I will be fine"

"Are you sure, I can tell-"

"Go" You pushed her off the couch "Say hi to Leo from me. Have fun"

"Ok, but message me if you need anything"

"I won't and you know it, go!" You pushed her out the door and sat back on the couch, your phone on the coffee table. How could something so insignificant as a message have you losing your mind?

You and Lando had met in the UK at a Quadrant shooting, your boss was in charge of the art department for the shooting but that weekend he had caught a bad cold, and after the pandemic, anything close to the mild flu meant someone else had to take the job and that's how you found yourself in a meeting room with Lando, Max and the rest of the creative team.

It was an instant click, he was funny, and smart, and much to your surprise he had a good eye for colors, textures, and lighting, he was clearly an amateur but better than a few of your "professional" coworkers.

The shooting was long but so entertaining and with such an amazing vibe between you and Lando, when he offered to drive you to your hotel you didn't hesitate and said yes.

It was all super friendly, both of you talking about everything and nothing at the same time, you sat in his car talking well past 5 am.

The next morning you got an Instagram follow request from a weird account and a DM request.

LvNg4Lf Hi, it's Lando, last night was so much fun, it was amazing working with you. I would love to invite you to lunch and talk about future projects. This is my personal account, please don't share it.

The next day the group chat was exploding with messages asking you for details about your hot night with the F1 driver, but there was nothing to tell, it had been all innocent.

The dates started as innocent work meetings but slowly the topics drifted from work to more personal stuff, then the Instagram DMs became more and more frequent, and before you realized you started seeing each other for movie nights and dinner dates. The first kiss happened one night after dinner, he was dropping you off at your flat. He had been weird all night as if something was bothering him, you were worried something was wrong.

"Thanks so much for dinner" You said as he helped you out of his car. "Please let me know when-" He pulled you hard against him placing his hand on your cheek.

"Don't hate me, please" He whispered, and joined your lips shyly.

You kissed him back, it was as natural as all those dates. His soft lips against yours felt amazing.

"I'm sorry" he said out of breath as his forehead rested against yours.

"Don't" You gave a quick peck to his lips.

Just a kiss was shared that night, even when your body was asking for more, and judging by the bulge pressing against your hip, he was craving more too, but neither of you wanted to rush it.

It was just a situationship but it was intense. You kept it down on the low, only your roommate and best friend, and his best friend knew about it. You could see how everyone treated the other "WAGS" and your mental stability wasn't ready for that kind of pressure, especially when you didn't even know what was happening.

He was flying straight back to London after every race, staying over at your house or you going to his, spending as much time together as you could. Movie nights and romantic dinners in either of your places were the usual, but you didn't care about not being outside. His arms around your body, him kissing your forehead, neck, and lips, was better than any date outside, you couldn't keep your hands off each other and didn't want to risk being caught in public.

You were falling, and falling hard. Once you even flew to surprise him at a doubleheader, spending one amazing week with him, living the full F1 experience.

His personal brand had reached a high peak and his management advised him to move to Monaco, it was a good economic decision. He was so excited when he told you about it as he showed you the apartment he had just leased, but all you could think about was what about the "relationship"?

It was the post-sex rush that made him ask you to move with him to Monaco, but it wasn't that easy. You loved your job, and you had worked so hard to get to the position you had now, leaving the country for a situationship wasn't the smartest idea, especially when he wasn't sure about going public or even formalizing. Another suggestion from his team. His Playboy era had proved to be a great marketing strategy, his merch sales had increased the moment he broke up with his last girlfriend, so getting into a relationship was strongly discouraged.

You spoke about it once, but in the end, moving with him or him staying in London was out of the question.

You avoided the topic for the last couple of weeks you were together. He spent his last night in the UK at your place, since his place had been emptied. It was as lovely as every night you had been together, but you couldn't shake away the bitter taste of him leaving and not knowing what would come next,

"We will find a way to make this work, ok?" He whispered against your lips as you said your goodbyes.

"Promise?"

"Yes" he kissed you deeply, biting your lip one last time.

He got in his car and drove off.

You kept in touch, facetime was your best friend for a few weeks, but slowly the communication started to lessen. He had a lot of work with Quadrant and the races, and you received an offer to lead the company's office in Italy which kept you crazy busy.

You moved to Italy a couple months after he had left for Monaco. Thank God, your best friend found a way to move with you thanks to her remote work, keeping you company whenever you needed to vent about your situationship. Around that time you were messaging just a couple times every couple of weeks.

Slowly whatever you had faded away, and even when you still had feelings for him, you did your best to keep yourself busy trying to bury whatever you felt under tons of work and meaningless dates.

But now, his message pulled all those feelings back up, and they were as strong as they were a year ago.

Y/USERNAME Y/workadress, on Friday I'm off at 5

LvNg4Lf Great, see you on Friday

Thank God, Ana spent the rest of the week at her boyfriend's, when she texted you asking about Lando you just replied "I'm not sure yet", she had such a strong mom vibe she would've rushed home just to talk to you about it, ruining Leo's anniversary plans.

"Y/n, somebody's waiting for you in the lobby" one of your workmates said as she entered the meeting room, a cheeky grin on her face.

"Thanks, Lis" You gattered your things nervously.

"Who's the cutie?"

"An old friend" you said escaping her interrogation, you were anxious enough to also worry about the office gossiping about your relationships.

The moment the elevator doors opened you recognized him, his back was facing your way, but the curls were unforgettable, and his arms those damn arms.

"Hey" you softly said standing behind him.

"Hi" A big smile on his face as he took you in his arms.

You hugged him back, it was as if no time had passed. He was bigger, stronger, and his back was broader, but still, your body fitted inside his embrace like a glove, and his scent, you had missed it so much.

He took your bag and jacket as he walked you to his car. Inside he handed you his phone.

"What?" You asked confused, he was usually the designated DJ.

"Your address"

"Why?"

"You need to pack for the weekend"

"What? I thought we were just having dinner"

"Do you trust me?" he stared at you making your heart rush.

"Calm down, Aladdin"

His particular laugh melted your heart, you hadn't realized how much you missed that sound.

You typed your address and started the route.

You shared small talk, he asked you about your day at work and you asked about his trip there.

"Go, I will wait here, I need to make a couple calls" He opened the door and offered his hand to help you out.

"What should I pack for?"

"Whatever you might need for a weekend, if anything is missing we can buy it, now go" He kissed your forehead and took out his phone as you rushed up to your apartment.

You took a quick shower, shaved, and trimmed where it was needed, not that you were expecting anything to happen, as far as you knew this was all friendly, but you didn't want to get caught offward.

"Holly shit, you're not going to believe who I saw-" Ana barged into your room as you were searching for a dress in your closet.

"-what are you doing?" She asked approaching the suitcase on your bed. You just turned and gave a nervous smile. "He invited you to have dinner, and you weren't even sure you were going, now you're packing?"

"Well..."

"Why are you packing? Are you escaping, want to jump in my car's trunk?"

"I'm not escaping, I'm not sure, he just told me to pack for the weekend"

"What if he's kidnapping you to take you to Monaco, should I call the police?"

"I'm not going to Monaco!"

"Not yet" A hint of sadness in her voice.

"I'm not, I swear, we're just doing something that I'm not sure what it is, but I'm not moving anywhere."

"Well, I guess the only thing we're sure about is that sex is part of the plan" She said pulling out the Victoria's Secret set you had packed.

"You never know" you answered with a cheeky smile.

You finished packing and rushed to the door.

"Please take care, be careful, and call me if you need anything, I will send the Italian troops your way immediately"

"Thanks, I will keep you posted" You hugged her and rushed downstairs, Lando placed your bag on the back of his truck and started driving without a map.

"Are you telling me where are we going?" You interrupted the conversation.

"Nope" A proud grin on his face.

"Are we going to Monaco?" You asked shyly.

"Do you want to go to Monaco?" He turned to look at you, some seriousness on his face.

"I'm just asking" You turned your blushing cheeks towards the passenger window.

You kept a casual conversation, the nerves were fading away but then he placed his hand on your thigh, and your breath hitched, it was a normal gesture when you were together, but now it felt like your leg was on fire.

A little over two hours later you were driving on a dirt road toward a lit-up old-style chalet.

He took both your bags, placed the code on the pad at the door and a beautiful living room appeared. It was one of those fairytale-like chalets.

"Follow me" He walked up some stairs to the only room in the house.

"One room?"

"I didn't think you would mind us sharing a bed. If you don't feel like it, I can sleep on the sofa" A hint of shame in his voice.

"No!" you said a little too loud. "I mean, I just... this is all just a surprise, that's it" You walked towards the bed and sat on it. He placed the bags next to the closet and walked towards you, he sneaked between your legs and you hugged him by the waist as his hands wrapped around your shoulders.

"Want to explore before it gets darker?" He kissed your hair.

"Sure" You followed him through the back door.

It was such a beautiful place, a jacuzzi was just outside the living room door, facing the Italian countryside. Not a single sign of other people for miles and miles.

He took your hand, intertwining your fingers as you walked through the dimly lit path. The conversation was about it all, your new job, the F1 season so far, just like old times.

Night fell and you walked back to the chalet, the full moon giving you enough light not to need the phone flashlight.

You prepared dinner and sat in the living room to watch a movie. After you finished eating you found yourself leaning against his chest, Aladdin playing on the flat screen as his fingers softly played with your hair, and yours traced the veins on his arm around your waist. A knot in your throat, you missed this so much.

As Aladdin was kissing Princess Jazmine after defeating Jafar his finger found your chin, turning it softly towards him. You stared deep into his eyes, your breath hitched when his tongue traced his lips. You moved your hand to cup his cheek and pulled him to join your lips. The kiss was soft, but filled with emotion.

His tongue entered your mouth as you turned your body to face him completely. His hands found your thighs guiding you to straddle him.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked breaking the kiss, as much as he was dying to be with you he wanted to make sure you were ok.

"Yes" you answered leaving a soft kiss on his nose.

That was all he needed to hear and in no time you were naked, his lips traveling to the places he missed the most. The moment he entered you it was as if you were two pieces from the same puzzle.

Magical, wasn't enough to describe the weekend. You had sex in every single surface of that chalet as if you were trying to make up for lost time. Even the sex in the jacuzzi was amazing, you had heard a ton of stories discouraging you from doing it in the water but it had been one of the best experiences in your life.

It was the early hours of Sunday, and you had to leave the chalet that afternoon. Your head on Lando's chest as his fingers traced figures on your back. A sudden feeling of sadness took over your body. A couple tears escaped your eyes.

"Y/n?" Lando took your face when he felt a warm tear on his chest and you sobbed silently.

"I'm ok" You said trying to sound normal.

"Come here" He sat up, his back against the headboard and he pulled you to straddle him, this time it wasn't sexual, he just needed you close. His face showed he was as unsure as you were, bringing more tears to your eyes.

"I know" he softly said as you laid your head on his chest and finally let the tears fall freely.

When the tears had eased you lifted your head back. Seeing your red eyes and nose broke his heart.

"You're thinking the same, right?" You lowly asked as you saw his eyes starting to water.

"Complicated?" his voice hoarsed from the tears he was holding back.

"Yes"

"You seem happy in Italy"

"You seem happy in Monaco"

He nodded and you leaned your head back on his chest as fresh tears fell from your eyes.

"Having you by my side would make me happier" he softly said as his fingers played with your hair.

"Same"

You knew that for now, this was impossible. As much as you loved being with him, you loved your work, your life in Italy was amazing and you couldn't ask him to do something you weren't willing to do yourself. Maybe you didn't love him as much as you thought, but why was this hurting so much? You could feel your heart breaking into a million pieces as his chest moved in a way that let you know he was crying too.

"I'm sorry" He whispered

"Don't, it was amazing, it's just...life"

"This fucking life"

"Ok" you took a deep breath and whipped your cheeks. "We still have a few hours, let's make the most of them"

He smiled, his eyes still shining from the tears, which made you sigh. "But first" He kissed your neck. "One more?" he pulled you down grinding your body against his growing bulge.

"Let's see if we can fit two" You smiled against his lips and hugged his neck.

After leaving the chalet you stopped by a small trattoria, eating slowly, enjoying every bite. Back on the road he was driving the speed limit, trying to spend the most time together.

He parked next to your car.

"I'll help you with it" He said as he stopped you from taking your bag.

"It's ok" You tried to reach for it.

"I insist" he took a step back.

"Lan, I can do it, please" You looked up at him, your eyes watery again.

"But..."

"Thanks for this, it was magical, but I think it's time" You tried to hold back the tears, he was doing the same. He didn't say a word but handed you your suitcase.

You hugged him hard. He breathed in your scent, trying to lock it in his memory and you did the same with his.

The garage door opening interrupted the moment.

He whipped your tears and you did the same with his.

He kissed your lips softly, you knew the three words he was holding back because you were holding them back too.

"Good luck next weekend"

"Thanks, good luck at work"

You said goodbye as if you were seeing each other soon just to make it less painful, but the truth was completely different.

He watched you walk towards the elevator. you saw a faint smile on his face as the door closed.

The moment your appartment door closed Ana rushed to you, hugging you hard when she saw the heavy tears falling from your eyes.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch,

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

#f1 fiction #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #max fewtrell imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #lando x y/n #f1 x y/n #lando norris fluff

[fizzydrink698]

conflict, conceal, confess | minho

kinktober day 31: thigh-riding

pairing: lee minho x reader

word count: 18.1k (💀)

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, (modern!consort au)

warnings: sexual content (thigh-riding, oral sex, fingering, handjob, marking, a whole lot of smut honestly, like 6k words of it), swearing, an ungodly amount of academia

summary:

“Why don’t we call a truce?��

Minho blinked, caught off-guard. “Truce?”

“Yeah. No more arguments…” you trailed off, the words already sounding hollow and you were the one saying them. “OK, maybe some academic debate. But nothing personal.”

“Nothing petty,” Minho added, giving you a pointed look.

It took an impressive amount of willpower to force your smile to stay on your face. “Exactly. We somehow managed it as kids. How hard could it be to do it again?”

“Your brother is such an asshole.”

You wondered how many of your conversations with Felix had started with those exact words. In the years since childhood, there had probably been countless variations of this very situation: you collapsing into a seat near Felix, ready to unleash after biting your tongue for however many hours beforehand.

His reaction was second nature at this point. Without even glancing towards you, Felix paused in the middle of rolling out what looked to be shortbread dough and turned to switch on the coffeemaker. “What is it this time?”

“Do you remember how many new people signed up to debate at the start of the year? Had to be at least twenty, right? Maybe thirty?”

“At least thirty,” Felix confirmed. “I gave out blondies to every person that signed up. The entire pan was gone in like an hour.”

Yes, you remembered that day. Specifically, you remembered Felix holding up the empty pan with a big smile on his face and proudly declaring how many people had shown interest in joining. And you’d had to figure out how to politely break it to him that the hordes of first-year students walking back and forth in front of his table were eyeing a little more than just his baked goods.

Sweet boy. Sweet, innocent, oblivious boy.

“Guess how many are left,” you challenged him, eager to prove a point.

Felix frowned, thinking it over. “There were still about fifteen when I was last there. So, ten?”

“Six,” you exclaimed, balling your hand into a fist and planting it onto the tabletop for dramatic effect. “And Minho made one of them cry today.”

In just a few years, you and Minho had transformed your university’s debate team into one of the most successful in the country. You’d won awards, you’d attended international competitions, you’d gained notice from several notable figures in academia. Membership of the debate team had gone from a minor footnote you’d discard in an application to a badge of prestige, of recognised talent.

Minho’s standards were high, shockingly so, but he got results. As a second-in-command in all but name, it was usually up to you to run damage control, to nudge members towards persevering instead of walking out the door. The good cop to his bad cop, the carrot to his stick. You’d be tempted to call it exhausting, were it not for the undeniable rush of satisfaction whenever you succeeded in building up a member where Minho failed.

Lately, however, your efforts were starting to fall short. In just eight weeks, over twenty recruits had quit before team selections had even finished.

“Oh, jeez,” Felix muttered. Before he could say anything more, the coffeemaker chirped behind him, and he wasted no time pouring you the biggest cup he had lying around.

You motioned it over with greedy little grabby-hands, accepting it with a smile.

Felix returned to his shortbread dough and picked up a star-shaped cookie cutter. “Why did they cry?”

You made a vaguely displeased noise through a mouthful of coffee, only managing to word a response when you set the mug down. “I don’t even know. This week’s debate was on the ethics of nuclear power, and I could tell she took pretty much all her talking points from Wikipedia. I assume it was about that. Minho probably got all Minho about it and tore her to shreds.”

Felix paused. You wondered if it was just because he was concentrating on his cookies, until you realised he was hesitating. “…I don’t know. I know Minho takes this stuff seriously, but he’s not the kind of guy to make some poor kid cry over debating.”

“Why not?“ You asked, and you can’t stop the bitterness creeping out into your voice. “It’s nothing he hasn’t done before.”

“Oh…” Felix said, eyes widening in realisation. He lifted his head up to look at you, sympathetic. “Shit, yeah. I’m sorry.”

For the most part, you’d gotten over your experience in high school debate club, but the memories still stung a little.

You’d been so eager, signing up the very second you were eligible, talking Felix’s ear off about how excited you were, how much you were looking forward to it. You’d known that Felix’s older brother - a year ahead of you - was somewhat of a big deal in the club, and you’d maybe imagined him taking you under his wing. Looking out for you, encouraging you with gentle feedback and a warm smile.

You’d gone into your first debate, attempted to expand upon the few points you’d known about the topic, and shyly waited for Minho’s counterarguments.

He had stepped up to the microphone, levelled you with a blank stare, and eviscerated every single argument you’d made. Pointed out every logical fallacy, every gap in your research, every misspoken or poorly worded statement, everything. He’d cut you right to the bone, with zero mercy.

You spent the rest of the club meeting holding back tears, ran all the way to Felix’s house as soon as it was over, sobbing your eyes out – and actually, maybe that was the first of many “your brother is an asshole” exchanges.

Huh. Funny how things come full circle like that.

When Minho returned home about a half-hour after you, you’d stormed into his room and demanded to know why he would treat you so badly. Did he want to drive you away from the club? Did he secretly hate you this whole time?

You’d never forget his response. The shrug he gave you, the arch of one eyebrow as he took in the sight of you, burning with rage, fists clenched by your side. The fucking sigh.

I just thought you’d do better than that.

What a fucking thing to say to a fourteen-year-old. Especially one that looked up to him the way you did.

And, deep-down, there was a certain sting that accompanied his words. Something you could never bring yourself to admit out loud, not even to Felix. An extra flash of pain, because back then you’d…

Whatever. It was ancient history.

You had almost quit on the spot. Instead, you dove headfirst into researching the next week’s topic, determined to beat him, paranoid about every little mistake he might pick at.

And that…

Well, that was your life for the next nine years. Even that one blissful year when Minho had graduated, the year you’d taken over as head of debate club, the year you’d gotten your team all the way to nationals - he still didn’t leave you in peace.

He’d turned up to that final competition, gaze intense, face neutral. You’d spotted him in the audience, unable to tear your eyes away, watching every little twitch of his jaw, every tiny shift in expression, and knew he was picking apart your arguments. Waiting for you to trip up and fail in front of everyone.

It felt like a glorious ‘fuck you’ when your team won that year. You’d held that trophy, looked right into Minho’s eyes, and wanted to scream ‘I fucking told you so’ right in his smug face.

Ugh. Asshole.

“It’s all in the past,” you said, forcing yourself to shrug it off.

Taking another swig of coffee, you reached over and poked Felix’s shoulder, grinning.

“And besides…Minho isn’t the one coming with me to the U.N. next month.”

“Next month,” Felix repeated, slightly in awe, matching your excitement and then some. “Holy shit, it’s so soon.”

It was. In just a few weeks’ time, you’d be standing in front of a U.N. committee giving a speech on commitment to environmental preservation with your best friend by your side. You’d worked for this for months, years even. And you’d be doing it together.

“I’m afraid I have bad news about the U.N. speech.”

You sat there, horrified, as your supervisor – Dr. Koning – shuffled the papers on his desk with a grave expression. “What? What happened? Don’t tell me it’s cancelled.”

“It’s not cancelled,” Dr. Koning said, before pausing. “…But it has been postponed. Certain recent global events have pushed it further down the agenda. The speech will happen next January.”

“January?” You repeated, and horror quickly dawned on you. “No, wait. Felix can’t do January. He’s studying abroad next semester. There has to be some other…”

“I’m afraid there’s not. I’ve tried to speak to the few contacts I have, but changing the agenda of the United Nations is…well, a little beyond our capabilities, I’m sure you can understand.”

“But this is just as much Felix’s speech as it is mine. It’s on environmental preservation, he’s the one that’s specialising in environmentalism, he can’t just get dropped like…what if he flew back for the U.N. speech? That’s doable, right?”

“Even if he could, he would still be missing the weeks of preparation leading up to the speech,” Dr. Koning reminded you, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Unless he withdraws from his study-abroad program, I’m afraid we have to give his spot to someone else.”

You felt like you’d just been punched, right in the gut. Felix couldn’t withdraw from the program. It was one of the main reasons he’d chosen this university in the first place. He’d spent months competing for the limited spaces at the best partner university, he’d e-mailed the faculty there ahead of time to begin networking, he’d based his entire career path on the connections he could make there.

Even the fucking United Nations wasn’t worth the damage his future plans would take if he dropped out of studying abroad.

“…Who’s taking his spot?” You asked, quiet, defeated.

Dr. Koning looked down at the papers, and adjusted his glasses. “Well, there are a few candidates in mind. But at such short notice, there’s really only one feasible choice. One of my colleague’s PhD students, you might know him. Lee Minho?”

…No.

No.

Absolutely fucking not.

You choked on the sudden anger bursting from your chest, trying your best to push it down before you started cussing out Lee Minho right in front of your professor. Finally, you were able to respond through gritted teeth. “Yes, I know him. We don’t…really get on.”

Dr. Koning frowned, pushing his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are there any incidents I should be aware of?”

“No, nothing like that,” you said. “Just…it’s been a thing since we were kids. We don’t like each other.”

“Well, we can look for others…” he said, before trailing off. Frowning, he leaned forward slightly, granting himself an air of conspiracy, like he was letting you in on a secret. “But, honestly…if this is something you feel comfortable setting aside, just temporarily, you should know that Minho really is the best candidate. By quite a wide margin.”

Of fucking course he was.

You let out a deep breath, closing your eyes and fighting the urge to start massaging your temples.

“…Maybe,” you relented, even if it took every ounce of willpower you had. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Good to hear,” Dr. Koning said, smiling. “I really do hope the two of you can work together on this. Both of you have shown astounding potential. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

“…Mm-hm. Me too.”

It was a cold, crisp Monday morning, and you found yourself stood on the steps of the lecture halls. The expression on your face was enough for the dawdling first-years around you to give you a wide berth, allowing you to scroll through your e-mails in peace.

Scroll through your e-mails, and wait.

For him.

Felix had mentioned that Minho was sitting in on a talk from a visiting financial expert on the state of global economics, and you figured now was as good a time as any to confront him about the speech.

…And by ‘confront’, you meant ‘patiently and politely open channels of communication’. Of course.

Fuck, it was freezing.

You shivered, pulling your scarf just a little tighter around your neck, and exited out of your e-mails to shoot a text to Felix.

You

Who in their right mind voluntarily sits in on an economics lecture at eight o’clock on a Monday morning?

Lixie

…

i mean

…literally you last week

You

OK first of all

That was a fucking Guillaume Van Bebber seminar

The man has a Nobel prize

Second of all

That wasn’t a Monday

Third

Shut up

Lixie

ok no cookies for you

You

Wait no, what??

I take it back.

Take it all back.

You’re my bestest friend in the whole world.

Bestest and smartest.

Waittt

You were so distracted texting Felix, you didn’t notice the doors to the lecture halls opening, and the slow stream of students beginning to file out.

You did, however, notice a familiar voice.

Your head snapped up to see Minho at the top of the steps, talking with who looked to be the guest lecturer. The two were standing still, rather than walking along with the rest of the students, positioned just out of the way so they could continue whatever conversation they were having without interruption.

Cool, even more waiting.

You shifted your weight, shoving your hands into the pockets of your coat to keep warm, and watched as Minho continued to speak – and, unbelievably, managed to make this lecturer laugh.

You blinked.

What the fuck? Minho didn’t make people laugh. He made them miserable, yes, but never laugh.

And then, suddenly, as if he could sense your insults, Minho looked over and locked eyes with you. His eyebrows raised slightly, probably in surprise at seeing you on campus so early in the morning. You made sure to maintain eye contact – an old habit with Minho, by this point. You hated being the first to look away, it always felt like weakness.

He turned away, saying something to the lecturer with a slight incline of his head.

The lecturer blinked, before nodding. You watched as, with a warm smile, the lecturer extended what looked to be a business card to Minho.

Minho accepted it, the two exchanged one final handshake, before Minho turned on his heel and descended the steps.

Towards you.

It was a little unfair, you wanted to grumble, that Minho always looked so put-together, no matter the time of day. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater, perfectly suited for the chilly October morning air, under a tailored beige overcoat. It looked designer, the plaid pattern on its lining looking vaguely familiar, but that was standard for Minho’s wardrobe. You’d known since you were a little kid that Felix’s family had money.

Like, ­fuck-you money.

You forced your eyes up to his face before they travelled any further downwards, but you knew from a glance that Minho was wearing some form of tight black jeans. They were a staple of his wardrobe, and you hated them. You hated any and every reminder of Minho’s…

Well, Minho’s fucking tree trunk thighs.

Which you also hated.

With a passion.

He did dance as a kid. And some kind of equestrian thing in his teenage years – because, again, fuck-you money – which all contributed to…

You know what?

Didn’t matter.

Because you hated them. They weren’t worth mentioning.

“We need to talk about the U.N. speech,” you said, as soon as he got close enough, cutting straight to the chase.

“OK,” Minho nodded, approaching closer. You paused, confused, as he showed no sign of slowing. He drew closer and closer, and something tightened in your chest, as he–

He brushed past you, shoulder nearly bumping yours, continuing onwards past you.

You stilled, rooted to the spot for a moment, blinking at the empty air where he had just been standing.

Shock quickly morphed into incredulous anger, and you turned sharply to storm after him, blown away by his rudeness. “Hey, where – what the fuck?”

Minho paused, turning to face you, halting so suddenly that you almost bumped right into him. You stumbled back a step or two, before righting yourself, as Minho asked. “…Wait, did you mean now?”

The way he said it, confused, as if you were the strange one for not specifying the obvious.

“No, I was thinking in three weeks. But let me just check my calendar first,” you retorted, deadpan. “Yes, now. Why else would I be here?”

“For classes,” Minho pointed out, gesturing to the lecture building he’d just exited.

You opened your mouth instinctively, before pausing.

Because the honest answer, that you were here because you’d been waiting for him, now sounded…

“…Look, are you free to talk about the speech or not?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest.

Minho stared at you for a moment, before giving you a shrug. “I’ve got about an hour before my next class.”

“Good.”

“I usually get coffee around this time, while it’s quiet.”

“…OK? Good for you?” You said, frowning slightly.

Minho kept staring, looking…strangely expectant.

What, he wanted a pat on the back for having coffee in the morning?

Finally, with a sharp exhale that could almost be mistaken as an exasperated sigh, Minho turned away and set off walking again.

Rude. You were literally just having a conversation? Now, he just expected you to follow him?

Ugh.

Reluctantly, you did just that, having to quicken your pace to match Minho’s stride with those…fucking gargantuan legs of his.

Legs that didn’t matter. Because you didn’t notice them. At all.

To your surprise, Minho didn’t head for Muffin House, the main coffee shop on campus. That was your go-to place for caffeine – it was cheap, they had a bunch of muffins in different flavours, and they had an irresponsibly large number of discounts on extra espresso shots for students.

Instead, you had to follow Minho down a little side street nestled between two of the towering science blocks, cut across a near-deserted car park, and finally took a right towards a quiet little pocket of buildings on the edge of campus.

You would have walked right past the coffee shop entirely, were it not for Minho suddenly ducking through the doorway of a non-descript stone building. You paused, and it was only after looking up and studying the front face of the building that you noticed the sign for Kwon’s Koffee.

Inside, it looked indistinguishable from other coffee shops on campus – except it was far less crowded, with only a few tables taken up by exclusively postgraduate students.

This was definitely one of those little insider-knowledge haunts for PhD students, like Minho. And the idea almost made you want to hate it on principle.

You joined the queue behind Minho, gaze wandering toward the board of coffee specials.

…Fuck, OK, they did look pretty good.

Still, the principle of the matter remained.

“You realise Muffin House was so much closer, right?” You asked, glancing at Minho.

Minho made a face. “Yeah, but their coffee is shitty.”

“No, it’s not!”

“It’s always bitter.”

“Yeah, because it’s made to go with the super-sweet muffins,” you said, slowing your words as if trying to explain the concept of taste to a toddler. “They balance each other out.”

“Which means if you don’t get muffins, you’re shit out of luck,” Minho pointed out, and glanced over his shoulder at you. “And I never get them.”

You stared at him, genuinely affronted by this statement. Yet another thing to add to the colossal-sized list of reasons to dislike Minho. “What? Why? How?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

“How are you and Felix even related?”

“It’s because of Felix,” Minho argued, and you had to admit, your interest was piqued. “Who do you think was the test subject for all his recipes?”

“What, were they bad?” You asked, intrigued.

Minho smiled ruefully. “Some were. But the most dangerous ones were the great ones. There’s only so many whole pans of brownies you can inhale before your body just rejects sugar on sight.”

Huh.

You forgot, sometimes, how close Minho and Felix were. It didn’t entirely fit in with your general doctrine of ‘Minho = The Worst’ so it was often banished to the back of your mind.

You supposed even the absolute dregs of humanity usually had at least one redeeming quality.

…Wait, this was coming dangerously close to an actual conversation with Minho.

“I think you’re just a coffee snob,” you dismissed with a shrug.

Minho rolled his eyes, and that brief façade of reasonable humanity vanished. “If Muffin House figured out how to brew coffee without burning it to shit, I’d drink it. But they haven’t yet, so…”

You opened your mouth, already raring to start an argument, but it was at that moment that the person in front of Minho in the queue finished ordering. Minho turned away from you, and walked up to the counter.

You followed closely behind, and it was only when your attention shifted from Minho to the person behind the counter that your eyes lit up.

“Seungmin?”

Seungmin blinked, leaning to the side just a little to look over Minho’s shoulder at you, surprised. “Oh, hey! Long time no see.”

Seungmin had been a stalwart member of your debate team for the first few years of undergrad, until he landed a job as research assistant for one of the most respected professors on campus. You had a lot of good feeling towards him, not least because he – along with Felix – often acted as the mediator between you and Minho.

He must have remembered that role too, as his gaze soon shifted back and forth between you and Minho, and his brow furrowed slightly. “Wait, are you two getting coffee? Like, together?”

You saw Minho bristle out of the corner of your eye, and you fought back a scoff. Did he really find it so insulting to be seen in public with you? “Yes, we are.”

Seungmin’s eyes flickered between the two of you again. “…Voluntarily?”

Minho answered this time, seemingly through gritted teeth. “Apparently.”

“Huh,” Seungmin said, mostly to himself. “Interesting.”

“Can we order now?” Minho asked, impatiently.

Seungmin shrugged, ignoring Minho’s rudeness, and set about taking your orders.

(Of course, Minho took his coffee black. Pretentious motherfucker probably had a whole thing about palate and bean aroma or whatever. You threw in a muffin with your order, to spite Minho more than anything else.)

It was only at the end, when it came to payment, that Seungmin looked up again at the two of you. “Are you guys paying separately, or…?”

That was kind of a dumb question.

“Separately,” you said, pointing out the obvious.

“Very separately,” Minho echoed, giving Seungmin a very pointed look.

Impressively, Minho’s glare did little to change Seungmin’s expression. In fact, Seungmin only smiled a little wider, calmly reverting back to his standard customer service script. “…OK. Cash or card?”

After payment, it only took a few minutes of waiting for your coffee before you found yourself sat at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, facing directly across from Minho.

The two of you sat there in silence, coffee in front of you.

How did you…how did you even start a conversation with Minho that wasn’t an argument? Usually, you relied on him to say something incorrect and pounce on it.

Now? You had to figure out how to be…nice. Civil. All because of this dumb speech.

You watched Minho shrug off his coat, turning in his seat to drape the coat over the back of his chair. The black turtleneck he was wearing underneath was surprisingly form-fitting, and when he turned back around to face you and pick up his mug, your eyes dropped down to your own cup before you gave into the urge to scowl openly.

Sometimes, you wondered if it would be harder to hate Minho if he were less attractive.

It was a thought you crushed down the second it came into your head, but you couldn’t entirely deny it. There had been moments, unspeakable moments, when you started dating someone, that your brain betrayed you and compared them to Minho. It was like he had to just…infect every part of your life. He had to ruin everything.

You swallowed, curling your fingers around the handle of your mug, tapping the edge of it with your thumb. “…So, the speech.”

“The speech.”

“I assume Koning already talked to you about it?”

“Yes.”

“…And?” You said, resisting the urge to scream. This was like pulling teeth. “Your thoughts?”

Minho sat back in his chair, eyeing you closely. “Why the U.N.?”

Easy question. So easy, you’d almost call it moronic. “It’s the U.N. It’s literally where I want my career to take me.”

“You want to work at the U.N.?” Minho asked, and you could almost mistake his tone for interest.

“Yes,” you said, confidently, half-prepared to defend yourself in case Minho decided to find your ambition laughable. Screw him. “The Human Rights Council, preferably, but I wouldn’t say no to a job in the General Assembly.”

“Who would?” Minho remarked, deadpan.

“Ergo, a speech there. It wasn’t easy, but we managed it,” you said, not even pretending to be humble.

“…It’s impressive, honestly. What you’ve achieved.”

“What me and Felix achieved,” you corrected him automatically, but honestly, you were a little thrown. That sounded…dangerously close to a compliment. From Minho.

“Koning said it was your idea,” Minho said. “You came up with the proposal, and you were the one ballsy enough to actually submit it to the U.N.”

“Yeah, but the speech is literally on environmental preservation–”

“International NGO commitment to environmental preservation,” Minho interrupted, and you bit down the sudden flare of anger that he felt the need to correct you on your own fucking speech topic. “International commitment is your wheelhouse, isn’t it?”

“And Felix is literally specialising in environmentalism,” you reminded him, and it was then that one of your biggest concerns about this whole situation reared its head. “Which reminds me, actually, why did they pick you to replace him on it?”

Minho stared at you for a solid moment, eyebrows slowly raising, as if he couldn’t believe you were being serious.

You felt yourself bristling, growing defensive. “What? You’re a politics student, not–”

“My master’s thesis was literally on environmental activism. I help teach undergrad classes on green politics and ecological efforts in government policy. How do you not know this?”

…OK. So, fine, maybe you didn’t pay that much attention to what Minho actually studied. Why would you? You imagined it would only piss you off more, reading through his fucking glowing examples of academic writing – like, seriously, in your second year of undergrad, one of your professors used one of his essays as a literal example of how to do the assignment.

You scoffed, lifting your coffee up to your mouth, muttering under your breath. “Ego-logical efforts, more like.”

Minho tilted his head, clearly having heard every word you just said. “What was that?”

You stared him down, taking one long, unabashed drink of coffee, before setting your cup down. Maintaining eye contact, you forced your most innocent smile. “Nothing.”

Another moment of silence fell between the two of you, as Minho’s mouth twitched. You could tell he was very tempted to call you out, and you almost wanted to dare him to say something. Going this long without some kind of conflict with Minho felt…weird. Strange.

Instead, Minho sighed, and you couldn’t imagine the visible shock on your face when his expression actually softened towards you. “…Look. I know you really wanted to work with Felix on this. It’s really shitty that this got taken out of your hands.”

…What? What the fuck was happening here?

He continued. “I’m sorry you got screwed over like this.”

What the fuck was in this coffee?

“I’m not trying to butt in and mess with everything you’ve prepared,” Minho said. “I genuinely just want to help you. I know we’ve got…issues.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement.”

“Sometimes people just don’t get along,” Minho said, eyes flickering downwards to his mug as he took a sip of coffee. “But I hope we can be professional about this.”

You fought the urge to scowl, but you couldn’t quite stop yourself from clenching your jaw at the assumption.

You could be professional.

You could be insanely fucking professional.

“Yes, I hope we can,” you said, your voice perfectly level. Calm. Composed. Professional. “So, actually, until this speech is over…why don’t we call a truce?”

Minho blinked, caught off-guard by your choice of words. “‘Truce’?”

“Yeah. Until the speech is done, we’ll try to be nice to each other. No more arguments…” you trailed off, the words already sounding hollow and you were the one saying them. You backtracked slightly. “OK, maybe some academic debate. But nothing personal.”

“Nothing petty,” Minho added, giving you a pointed look.

It took an impressive amount of willpower to force your smile to stay on your face. “Exactly. We somehow managed it as kids. How hard could it be to do it again, for the next few months?”

Minho didn’t answer immediately, clearly thinking the proposition over.

You took another sip of coffee, trying your best to leave it at that. But you couldn’t help but add, pointedly. “I mean, I don’t think it’ll be hard for me. But if you think you–”

“I’ll manage,” Minho interjected, dryly, unimpressed. “You’re the one who starts it most of the time, anyway.”

“I don’t–” you bit your tongue, taking a second to claw back your patience. “…I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure.”

You sat just a little taller, frowning. “OK. So, we’re decided.”

“Yep.”

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

“…Good.”

“Good.”

“Great,” you said, maybe just a little eager to get the last word. Maybe.

It was only when you took another sip of coffee, content with yourself, that Minho dropped the sudden curveball. “My housemates are throwing a Halloween party this weekend. Maybe you should come.”

You very almost did a spit-take with your coffee. “What?”

“If you’re so interested in a truce,” Minho added, tapping his fingers against the wooden surface of the table, and that was when you recognised the invitation for what it was.

A challenge.

Minho was absolutely trying to get you to chicken out.

You straightened your shoulders. “I’d be happy to,” you said, and it sounded vaguely threatening.

“Great, I’ll let them know.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” Minho said, his words so edged, you could imagine them slicing into you.

Yeah, this truce was definitely going to last.

This was a terrible idea.

You hesitated on the pavement outside of what was very obviously a Halloween party in full swing. You’d purposely waited a little, hoping to avoid the awkward early stages of house parties, your imagination filled with dreadful images of being one of the first to show up and having to make conversation with Minho.

The later, the better. More people to act as a buffer, and a better excuse to get drunk.

Hopefully, fingers-crossed, maybe Minho had already gotten absolutely wasted and wouldn’t even notice you were there.

Bolstered by the thought, you shot a text to Felix – who should already be inside, having volunteered to swing by early and help his older brother with decorations – to say that you were here.

OK.

Breathe.

Go.

You marched up the path towards the front door, refusing to be distracted by the partygoers scattered around the front yard, smoking and chatting and one couple leaning against the wall and already looking very handsy.

The front door was open, and you made your way inside, senses alert for any sign of Felix (to approach) and Minho (to avoid) as you did so.

The house was impressively large for student housing – of course it was, Minho lived here – and yet, every room held a crowd of people. Dancing, drinking, having fun. A drunk girl, dressed in what looked to be some variation of zombie Disney princess, stumbled into you, giggling apologetically as she did. Her drink – a can of something, maybe a bottle – was icy-cold as it brushed against your thigh.

You should have worn something longer, you thought. Your costume was cute, and dare you say, maybe even kinda hot, but it was not cut out for any temperatures colder than a room full of warm bodies. Just the walk up to the house had you shivering, just a little.

Your hunt for Felix led you from room to room, as you tried and failed to prevent yourself from rolling your eyes at the size of this place. Someone had set up tables – multiple – for beer pong in one room, while another room hosted an impressive speaker system for dancing, while another room was all softly-lit and calm background music, clearly the designated room for quieter, laid-back conversation.

A layout that checked all the house party boxes, sure. But a terrible place to try and track someone down.

Eventually, somehow, you found yourself in the kitchen, and it was here that you wondered whether you should just give up for a second and grab something to drink. You’d find Felix at some point, hopefully. Just as long as you didn’t run into…

“Oh.”

You turned at the voice, instinctively, but on second thoughts maybe you should have pretended not to hear.

Minho was standing in front of you, leaning against the kitchen counter.

And he…

He looked…

Holy fucking shit.

From the fake blood on his billowy white shirt and the painted-on bite mark on his neck, he was clearly some kind of vampire. Someone – maybe Minho himself – had applied the subtlest amount of eyeliner, and between that and the rumpled dark hair, and the…

Fuck, those were leather pants. Skin-tight.

Oh, you had to leave right now–

“Hi,” you said, standing your ground.

“You’re late,” Minho noted.

It was only then that you realised Minho was part of a loose cluster of guys, all of whom turned to see who Minho was talking to.

And one of them, to your intense relief, was Felix.

“Hey!” Felix greeted, wandering over to throw an arm around you in a half-hug. He was a cheerful drinker, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t help your confidence a little to see someone so unambiguously happy to see you here.

When he pulled away, you noticed that the little hand-drawn stitches around his neck had already started to smudge. Miraculously the little fake plastic bolts on either side of his head remained intact.

“I like your costume,” Felix told you. “It’s very…pink.”

“It is very pink,” you agreed, looking down at yourself.

When you glanced up, you caught the way Minho’s eyes flickered upwards too, as if he’d just finished looking you up and down.

You tensed a little, preparing yourself for some kind of critique. Lee Minho, champion appraiser of cheap Halloween costumes.

To your surprise, however, Minho quickly averted his eyes and took a deep swig of the drink in his hand.

“I like your costume too,” one of Minho’s friends chimed in. He was kind of cute, all dark hair and big brown eyes, so adorable that his werewolf costume came across as looking more like a chipmunk. “What are you?”

You smiled, relaxing a little. “The most accomplished woman of our time.”

The guy blinked, looking briefly thrown for a second, eyes back on your costume as he tried to decipher who you were.

But Minho, astonishingly, cracked a half-smile. Which, for Minho, was practically a laugh. “Are you Barbie?”

“Yes,” you admitted, reluctantly, half-tempted to lie just to be petty. Except, damn it, no more pettiness. You’d agreed.

“Barbie is the most accomplished woman of our time?”

“Princess. Astronaut. President. I am prepared to fight you on this.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and I’ll win.”

“Mm,” Minho hummed, and again, his gaze flickered downwards. What, was it so shocking to see you in pink?

You shifted your weight, and you almost folded your arms over your chest before you remembered what the neckline was like on this dress. Maybe not.

Unbeknownst to you, Felix and Minho’s friend exchanged a look.

Clearing your throat, you turned your attention to the large and varied alcohol selection littering the kitchen counter. “So, what can I get to drink here?”

“Minho can talk you through it,” Minho’s friend suddenly announced, patting Minho on the shoulder. Minho blinked, tearing his eyes away from you to look at his friend. “I’m gonna go find Chan, he promised me a beer pong rematch. Felix, bro, you should come with.”

Felix hesitated. “…Actually, maybe I–”

“Nah, come on,” Minho’s friend insisted, hooking his arm with Felix’s, cheerfully pulling him away. “Be my cheerleader.”

You stared, as it dawned on you that your biggest support in this minefield of a conversation was being frogmarched away.

Right. OK. Alone with Minho.

Cool.

You chanced a look back towards Minho, only to find him still watching you, and you quickly diverted your attention to the alcohol again. Smoothing down your skirt, you forced yourself to shrug. “I thought about coming as Frieda Dalen, but I figured no one would get the reference. She was–”

“The first woman to speak at the U.N., yeah.”

You snapped your head back to stare at him, bewildered. “How the fuck do you know that?”

Minho raised one eyebrow, and you were genuinely irritated that, in combination with the hair and the blood and the outfit in general, it almost…almost maybe twisted something in your gut. “My first official university debate was about the history of women in global affairs. She was a good factoid. 1946, right?”

You fought the urge to scowl as you confirmed his answer. “Yep. 1946.”

And, because even the tightest of leather couldn’t dull your burning dislike of seeing Minho smug, you pressed him further.

“Do you remember which country she was the delegate of?”

“No,” Minho admitted, tilting his head slightly to one side as he looked at you. After a moment, he straightened up from where he’d been leaning, gaining an inch or two of height in doing so, forcing you to tilt your chin up slightly to continue meeting his gaze. “Why don’t you tell me?”

His words should have sounded patronising.

Except, there was a strange edge to his voice, almost a playfulness but not quite. Not a lightness, because it definitely didn’t feel light. It felt kind of heavy, actually.

If you didn’t know any better, you would almost mistake it as…

“Minho!”

Both of you jolted at the sudden shout, barely having the time to turn towards it source before a tall guy with a Phantom of the Opera mask and ridiculously pretty long, blond hair staggered into Minho and hugged him.

You blinked, too caught off-guard to even appreciate the bemused expression on Minho’s face as the pretty guy mumbled into his shoulder. “Minho, I think…I’m druuunk.”

You took that as the perfect opportunity to back out of this…interaction with Minho, even as something strange twisted inside of you. You quickly grabbed the closest drink you could and retreated out of the kitchen as fast as your dignity would allow.

You needed to drink. And maybe dance. Anything to distract you, before your mind wandered anywhere dangerous.

This wasn’t working.

Drinking your problems away was a terrible idea in and of itself, but you’d been tempted to give it a go. After your second drink, however, you were blindsided with the intrusive thought of getting wasted and throwing up in Minho’s bathroom, and all the humiliation that could go with it, and it had warned you off alcohol for the rest of the night.

Dancing, your alternative solution, had worked for the first hour or so. You had let loose a little, but as your drink-fuelled buzz slowly faded, you found yourself growing increasingly uncomfortable by the stale air and the press of warm bodies. You were getting hot, something under your skin beginning to itch.

You needed to get out of here, just for a moment, to clear your head.

With crowds of people blocking your way to the front door, you decided on a different path towards some peace and quiet. Upstairs was mostly left untouched, understandable since there were no drinks to be found and no music playing, and you breathed out a sigh of relief when you reached the top of the stairs and turned a corner, and found an empty hallway.

Perfect.

Before you could think twice, you sat down on the floor, your back against the wall. The relief of taking a break from standing in these heels was immediate, and you let your head loll backwards, closing your eyes.

You just needed a few minutes here, you decided. Just to recharge.

“What are you doing?”

You didn’t open your eyes, but you felt your expression immediately sour. Of course it had to be the worst possible person to find you here, alone and close to misery, sitting in the hallway.

Minho approached, or at least, that was what you gathered from the sound of his footsteps. He came to a halt fairly close, pausing, and spoke up again.

“How are you this wasted already?” Minho asked, and there was surprisingly little amusement in his voice at the idea. In fact, you’d almost mistake it for concern.

“I am distressingly sober, actually,” you replied, slowly opening one eye to glare at him, but it was half-hearted at best, and you closed it again. “Just needed some quiet. Had a headache.”

Minho didn’t say anything in response. In fact, it was silent for so long, you started to wonder if he’d walked off without you even noticing, when he suddenly spoke up again. “I know a good place for quiet. And for fresh air, if you want it.”

Slowly, you opened your eyes again, fixing him with a look of suspicion. Admittedly, whatever he was suggesting sounded like the perfect place for you right now – which was exactly the reason you were so suspicious. “Where?”

“It’s pretty nearby,” Minho said, and to your disbelief, held out his hand.

Your eyes flickered from his face, to his outstretched hand, to his face again, before taking a deep breath and pushing yourself up to your feet by yourself. To his credit, Minho withdrew his hand smoothly, seemingly unaffected by your refusal to take it.

“After you,” you said, still reluctant to let down your guard.

Minho nodded, and set off down the hallway, going just a little further from where you were sitting, and stopping in front of a door. With a glance back to you, probably checking to see if you were still following, or if you’d lied about being sober and collapsed while he wasn’t looking, he opened it and wandered inside.

You took a few steps towards it – and then caught one look inside the room and halted dead in your tracks.

That was…

Was that…?

“Is that your fucking bedroom?” You asked, in pure disbelief.

Minho stopped, turning around to look at you, and how the fuck could he look so calm about this? “…Yeah? Last time I checked, why?”

“Why? Are you…” you trailed off, scoffing, before putting on your best Minho impression. “‘I know a good place, come follow me’ and it’s your bedroom. Come on.”

“I wasn’t…I was talking about the balcony. There’s a balcony through…” Minho gestured vaguely towards the far wall, where you realised the huge ceiling-to-floor curtains hanging there must be hiding the doors to it.

Of course he has a balcony.

Of course.

For once in his life, Minho looked just the slightest bit ruffled as he finally caught on to the incredibly obvious implications.

He swallowed. “Look, if you’re not comfortable, that’s–”

You interrupted him with a scoff. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

In fact, to prove just how comfortable you were, you marched into his room, forcing yourself to appear entirely unbothered.

“See? Fine,” you said. “Just, maybe lead with the balcony thing next time, so you don’t look like some massive sleaze.”

Again, Minho’s reaction surprised you. Instead of anger or annoyance at your accusation, Minho cracked another half-smile. “Fair.”

…Yeah, you really weren’t used to this whole ‘nice’ thing between the two of you. It felt weird, like the very foundations of your dynamic were shaken by it.

As Minho led you towards the balcony, you tried your best not to look too closely at his bedroom, as much as your curiosity protested otherwise. The most detail you got was that it was fairly neat, fairly clean, and he had a stupidly large bed. Which, you know, Minho, fuck-you money, that made sense.

You point-blank refused to dwell on it.

As soon as he slid open the door, you quickly leaned forward and breathed in that refreshing cold night air, and felt your headache fade just a little. It was only when you stepped out onto the balcony that you truly felt yourself relax, and the tension built up in your head began to ease.

“Better?” Minho asked, and you heard him come up from behind you, coming to a stop beside you to look up at the night sky. You couldn’t make out many stars from here, thanks to the light pollution of the city, but it was still undeniably a pretty cool view.

“Yeah,” you admitted and, begrudgingly, you turned towards him to mutter. “…Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I won’t be too long out here,” you added, feeling the weirdest need to justify accepting this kindness from Minho, to downplay it. “I’m not exactly dressed for October weather.”

Minho paused, keeping his gaze fixed on the night sky above and very much not on you. “Yeah.”

…Yeah?

You frowned, unable to stop yourself from feeling slightly defensive. “I mean, you’re one to talk.”

That got his attention. Suddenly, Minho had no problem looking at you. “What?”

“Your pants, Minho. Did you paint them on yourself?”

And you realised then and there that you must have made some kind of error, because Minho looked genuinely amused. Glancing down at himself for a moment, his eyes wandered back up to meet yours, and there was a genuine note of curiosity in his voice. “What, do you like them?”

You stilled, faltering just slightly, before retorting. “I’d probably like the cow they’re made from more.”

“Don’t worry, they’re not real leather,” Minho quipped back. “If that’s your only issue with them.”

“Well, you know, the fake leather industry is actually…” you trailed off, because your comeback sounded lame even in your head. “Whatever.”

The two of you fell into a silence, both watching the stars for a moment, listening to the thud of the bass downstairs and the muffled cacophony of voices.

And then, quietly, reluctantly, Minho spoke. “…Can I ask you a genuine question?”

If it was about the pants, you might actually throw him off this balcony. “OK. You’re not guaranteed a genuine answer, but go ahead.”

“The U.N. speech. It was your idea. If you want to go into human rights, why are you doing a speech about the environment?”

You paused, genuinely flustered by his question. Your response came out jumbled. “I don’t…you know, the two aren’t mutually exclusive, environmental damage is having a huge impact on–”

“Yeah, but that’s not what the speech is actually about. It’s a great speech, but why isn’t it on a subject youwant to do?”

“Who says? You? You don’t know what I want,” you shot back, irritated, refusing to admit that he’d touched a nerve.

Rather than snapping back at you immediately, Minho took a deep breath, calming slightly. “…You’re right. I don’t. I shouldn’t assume.”

What was this? You didn’t want him to agree with you, you wanted an argument. This ‘nice’, truce stuff was really starting to grate on you. “Exactly.”

“It’s just…it’s important that you do what you want, and not try to shape yourself around other people.”

“I don’t,” you argued. “Maybe what I want is for you not to attack every little decision I make. Like you always do.”

Minho’s brow furrowed, his stance shifting slightly. It took a second to realise that he was appraising you, eyeing you thoughtfully.

“You…really seem to dislike me,” he noted.

“Oh, do I?” You remarked, bitterly.

“Why is that?”

You let out a deep breath, mostly out of frustration, but also a little out of exhaustion. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to construct some kind of response.

There seemed to be a multitude of answers to that question. Minho was arrogant. He was atrociously blunt in most social settings and seemed indifferent to the hurt he caused others. He had an exorbitant amount of money and had very few qualms showcasing it. He scared away almost every single new debate team recruit because he was apparently allergic to the concept of constructive criticism. He’d ruined more than one relationship you’d had. Apparently, you talked too much about him, but there were only so many ways to honestly answer questions about your day or how you were feeling without mentioning how aggravating Minho was in some capacity.

But honestly, the more you thought about it, the more you felt yourself slipping back into the shell of that little fourteen-year-old, looking up at the cool older boy with wide eyes and hoping for just one kind word.

And it made you feel so…small. Pathetic.

“Because you’re an asshole,” you stated, simply.

Minho stared at you for a second, before frowning slightly. “I mean, not really.”

…Oh, he decided to say just exactly the wrong thing there, didn’t he?

“You absolutely are. Like, objectively,” you argued. “You literally made a girl cry last week over debating.”

“What? Who?”

“That first-year girl. Dark hair, super perky. You know, when she’s not crying her eyes out.”

Something approaching recognition dawned on Minho’s face, but to your surprise, his expression dimmed slightly. “Oh, her. She told you it was about her debating?”

Well, not in exact words, you wanted to say. But it wasn’t hard to read between the lines, given what you knew Minho to be capable of.

“OK, then what was it about?” You asked.

“She came up to me after our last meeting and asked for some tutoring,” Minho said, before giving you a very pointed look. “As in, a specific kind of ‘private’ tutoring. Very specific. And she was not subtle about it.”

You blinked. “…What?”

Minho’s brow furrowed, visibly searching through his memory of the incident. “To be fair, I might have laughed in her face. In my defence, it was less about her and more about the audacity.”

You pictured the scene, of that girl coming onto Minho, his face when he realised what was happening, and the worst part of you maybe wanted to smirk a little. But you would not indulge it. “Still, sounds like you could have been nicer abut it.”

“OK, yeah, I feel a little bad. But no, it wasn’t over her debating skills. I might be harsh, but you think I’d make someone cry over that and not give a shit?”

Every ounce of amusement drained out of you in an instant, replaced by something cold. “I mean…yeah, you’ve done it before.”

“What? When?”

He didn’t know?

How could he not know?

You might have finished sobbing by the time you’d confronted him, all those years ago, but hadn’t it been extremely obvious?

You stared at Minho for a good few seconds, waiting for him to slip up, to give up the joke. But all you got in return was a genuinely confused expression on his face, waiting for you to clarify what exactly you were talking about.

Oh.

Yeah, he really didn’t know.

Shit.

You swallowed, looking down at your hands, picking at one particularly jagged edge of your thumbnail. “…Me.”

Minho stilled. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your head, searching your face. “You cried?”

Oh, fuck this guy. You stiffened, embarrassment roiling in the pit of your stomach, and snapped, seething. “Just forget it–”

“No, I didn’t mean…” he trailed off. When you braved a look over at him, you didn’t find the smirk you were expecting. Minho looked genuinely chastened, watching you with a deep but unreadable emotion. “I…didn’t know.”

You didn’t like this, you didn’t know how to handle…earnest Minho. Where the fuck did asshole Minho go?

“It was just the once. It was my first debate, and you were a dick about it,” you said, forcing yourself to shrug.

“Oh,” Minho said, with such a strangely specific tone that you couldn’t help but look over at him. There was a look of dawning realisation on his face, and the slightest hint of…

Embarrassment?

“I think I remember that,” Minho said, sounding vaguely horrified. “…This is going to sound dumb.”

Minho? Dumb? And aware of that fact? “…OK.”

“And a little pathetic.”

“Good, go on.”

“But I think, at the time…I was hoping you’d ask me for help.”

You stilled, trying to comprehend the string of words that had just left his mouth. Trying to forge them into anything that made even the smallest bit of sense.

“…And you didn’t, I don’t know, think about offering your help? Before humiliating me in front of my classmates?” You asked, and you almost surprised yourself with the way your voice shook with an old, familiar anger. “That didn’t, you know, maybe occur to you?”

Minho turned his whole body to face you head-on, hand curling around the balcony railing at his side. It was in that moment, seeing him entirely, that you glimpsed that blunt, ruthless young man that had cut you so deeply all those years ago – and saw, for the first time, how small he really was. That memory had taken up so much space in your mind, had warped itself until Minho towered over you, a titan, a symbol of each and every one of your failings.

Now, for once, a new image appeared. An awkward teenage boy, too embarrassed to admit that he wanted to be something in your eyes.

You softened, just for a second.

And then, remembering yourself, remembering all that had happened between the two of you since then, you came back to your senses.

“And what about everything after? It’s not like you were nice after that one little misunderstanding, you picked at everything I did for years.”

“In my defence, neither were you. You refused to speak to me unless you had to for years,” Minho pointed out. “And I realised how much you could do, what you could achieve–”

“If you kept being an asshole?”

“If I held you to actual standards,” Minho corrected, and for the first time in this conversation, he was starting to get heated. Good. “The next time the club met, you wiped the floor with seniors. Seniors. You were just as good as me, and you barely had experience.”

A compliment from Minho, however begrudging and biting it was, had a dangerously addicting effect on you. Actually, maybe the begrudging part only made it better. “And what? That pissed you off?”

Minho’s expression faltered, just for a split-second, and that spoke more than any confession could.

“It did,” you said, half-shocked for a second, before pressing on. “So, you wouldn’t get off my fucking back foryears. You even turned up at nationals after you graduated, hoping I’d fall flat on my face.”

“Is that what you think?” Minho asked, incredulous.

“What else would it be?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe…” Minho stopped, before letting out a short, bitter laugh. “Never mind. Forget it.”

You wanted to press him further, but the anger that had sustained you so far was starting to flag a little.

This was just…exhausting, sometimes.

You let out a deep breath, just as a cold October breeze decided to kick up, making you shiver. Instinctively, you folded your arms over your chest, tucking your hands into your sides to get just a little bit of warmth.

Maybe it was time for you to leave.

You looked over at Minho, opening your mouth to say something–

Only to catch his gaze openly, unmistakably, dipping down towards your cleavage.

You stopped.

You stared.

His eyes moved upwards again, finding yours, and he realised he’d been caught.

He tensed, just for a second, and you watched a tangle of emotions play out across his face before he settled on a neutral, blank, composed expression. But he didn’t speak.

He just…looked at you.

Waiting for you to say something? Daring you to say something?

It was hard to decipher, because at that moment, your brain was still 100% stuck on the fact that Minho had been checking you out.

Because that wasn’t some little accidental flicker, his gaze had stayed there.

Minho had been absolutely, undeniably, checking you out.

For all your complaints about the cold weather, it was starting to get very warm out here.

Why the fuck wasn’t he saying something? Anything?

You swallowed – or, well, you tried to at least.

Something had awoken, deep in the pit of your stomach. You felt it starting to unfurl, slowly, your nerve endings beginning to prickle.

“Are you…” you didn’t finish the question, you couldn’t finish the question, because the words ‘are you into me?’ were so laughably alien that they just refused to leave your mouth.

Minho waited, expectant for something, searching your face. Whatever he found – or didn’t find – was enough to make him speak.

“What?” he asked, and it was that same voice he had in the kitchen. Quiet, loaded, just a touch lower in register that almost made your breath catch.

It was like he was challenging you. Goading you. Wondering whether you were too much of a coward to finish that question.

You needed to ask. You needed to say it.

Come on, you were about to talk to the fucking United Nations in a few months, surely you could handle asking one question to Lee fucking Minho.

“Are you…attracted to me?”

Already, you were starting to cringe internally. Already, you were preparing for the worst. You tried to reassure yourself that it was fine, that when he said ‘no’ you could call him out on staring at your chest, he had no room to speak, it was a logical question, it…

Except Minho didn’t say ‘no’.

He didn’t say anything.

And the longer he looked at you, the longer he stayed silent, the more obvious his answer became.

…Oh.

That…

Maybe you were drunk, actually. Surely you had to be. Because the idea that Minho found you attractive didn’t drive you off like you thought it would.

Minho found you attractive.

Minho, the man with an ego so large it could smother a man, a superiority complex so vast it could bring awe-stricken observers to tears, that Minho…found you attractive.

Huh.

As you stared back at him, you were hit with the sudden thought of kissing him.

Which would be a terrible idea.

Because Minho was Minho and just because he was into you, just because he was perhaps objectively maybe a little good-looking, just because he’d admitted that all these years he’d seen you as an intellectual equal, just because he had the kind of thighs that could probably crush a watermelon, he…

He…

You paused, mind-blank, before rising up on your toes and pressing your lips to his.

The first few seconds were strange. Of course they were, it was surreal to feel someone’s lips on yours and know this was Minho, holy shit. You could feel how still he was, how shocked, and you knew he must have been on the exact same wavelength.

And then, he closed his eyes, his hand lifted up to gently cup your cheek, and everything clicked together perfectly.

This felt right, like really weirdly right despite it all. Some kind of base level of brain chemistry was screaming about how right this was, and it had you shivering in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

Was this a bad idea? The two of you had to work together for the next few months, you should have been aiming to keep things strictly professional, personal issues could complicate–

Minho let out the tiniest exhale, recapturing your lips immediately, and your thoughts stopped dead in your tracks.

Fuck professionalism, you’d earned this, you’d been working your ass off for months, you deserved to take satisfaction whenever you could get it.

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up slightly to press the entirety of your front against his. He was warm, shockingly so, and when his free hand moved to press itself into the small of your back, you chanced parting your lips just a little.

Minho followed suit, deepening the kiss, angling his head just slightly. Everything about his touch, how he held you, it was all so strangely gentle in comparison to the usual way he treated you. As if you were an illusion, like if he squeezed too hard, you might disappear.

One of your hands came up to run your fingers up his neck, through his hair, and the drag of your fingernails coaxed a quiet hum out of him.

Every noise you pulled from Minho, every little reaction, felt like winning an argument. It felt like a strange natural extension of your debates, isolating the weakness in the other’s defence and targeting it.

You let your fingers tangle in his hair, biding your time, and when you tested a sharp little twist, you heard his breath catch.

Minho went still, just for a second, just enough to take a deep breath, before grabbing your hip and swinging you around, pushing you up against the sliding balcony door, trapping you between it and him.

The impact was enough to knock a gasp out of you, and he pulled away briefly. You watched him, cheeks flushed, eyes dark, breath heavy, as he tried to form words. “Fuck, are you–”

You pulled him back to you, a hand fisted in his shirt collar, too impatient to let him finish the rest of his question. Your kiss was rushed, insistent, and you took your time before you pulled away to mutter against his lips. “I’m fine. Just…fuck it, just keep kissing me.”

Minho’s head dipped towards yours, briefly, as if he were about to do just that – before he paused. “…Ask me nicely.”

“Fuck off,” you snapped, impulsively, heat rushing to your face.

He pulled his head away, his whole body even, until the two of you were just barely touching. He lingered, teasingly close, an amused glint in his eye. “Why, is that want you want? Me to fuck off?”

You didn’t know if he was being sincere or not. You never knew if he was being sincere or not. That was Minho, through and through.

You scrabbled for an answer, brain still sluggishly working through the fact that you weren’t kissing anymore, chest rising and falling with every quickened breath. You found your words, looking him directly in the eye, tilting your chin up slightly.

“Kiss me,” you said, practically venomous, before setting your jaw. “Or I’ll find someone else to do it for you.”

You didn’t know why that was the threat you made. Logically, it held no weight – Minho might have been attracted to you, but would he really care if you kissed someone else? You half expected him to laugh you off, and wander off back to the party without even a glance back at you.

He did neither of those things.

In fact, the teasing look in his eye vanished completely. His gaze turned so intense that you wondered if he could burn a hole straight through you.

When he finally spoke, he was deceptively calm, his voice perfectly even as he noted out loud. “I see. So, that’s how we’re playing this.”

You barely had time to process his words, before his mouth was back on yours, almost feverish, and with a newfound harshness.

You met him with just as much enthusiasm, matching him move-for-move.

A gentle Minho was too complicated. A soft, kind Minho forced you to confront some preconceived notions that you were very happy to keep unchallenged.

This Minho, the one who dragged his right hand down your side, the one who gripped your hip so tightly you could imagine it bruising, this was something you could handle. Something you didn’t have to overthink.

Because, fuck, you really, really didn’t want to think right now. You were sick of thinking, your whole life was thinking.

Minho’s hand slipped downwards to your thigh, his palm sliding around to the back of it before he lifted your leg up slightly to slot his thigh right between yours.

The instant he lowered your leg, you realised exactly what he’d done. Immediately, you felt the press of him between your legs, subtle enough to allow plausible deniability, and yet too firm for you to just ignore. To make matters worse, you were now just slightly off-balance, your foot just brushing the floor.

You couldn’t lower it, you couldn’t regain your balance, without pressing down even more on his thigh. You tried anyway, and the friction resulted in your first whimper of the night, light and breathy against him.

Minho’s grip, still on your leg, tightened.

He dropped his head to press his mouth to your neck, kissing at the skin there – and then he clenched his fucking thigh muscles, and your resulting moan slipped out right by his ear.

Your hands scrambled for him, clutching his shoulders, breath heavy as you tried not to rock your hips. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction, you absolutely refused to. You grabbed a fistful of his hair again, pulling by the roots to drag his head back upwards so your mouths could meet again.

Your kiss was now heated, almost clumsy. You caught Minho’s bottom lip between your teeth and nipped, enjoying the way he hissed, the way his tongue licked over where you’d done it, the way his left hand came up to your face – not to cradle this time, but to clutch, to grip.

His right hand moved up to your ass, giving it one firm squeeze, before suddenly and very deliberately pulling you down and along his thigh. More noises fought their way out of your mouth, and you were too weak to resist just one roll of your hips, chasing that same friction. It had barely been a few minutes, and you could already feel yourself starting to ache, heat beginning to collect at the apex of your thighs.

It was gratifying to learn, when you pulled Minho even closer, forcing the full length of his body to press against yours, that you weren’t alone in that. You felt something firm beginning to press into your hip, and when you slid your hand down to confirm what it was, palm sliding against it, Minho inhaled sharply.

You grinned against his lips, and squeezed him through those damned fake-leather pants.

He groaned, eyes drifting shut for just a second, before suddenly snapping open.

“Come on,” he said, swallowing, and took you by the wrist. Before you knew it, he pulled you away from the balcony door to slide it open again, and hurriedly tugged you inside.

You had been a little too distracted to notice how much colder it must have turned outside, but inside welcomed you with a warmth that radiated through your whole body.

But it took you a moment, brain still in a thigh-induced haze, to realise the full extent of what it meant to be inside.

To be inside Minho’s bedroom.

You hesitated as Minho slid the balcony door shut behind you, drawing the curtains together.

You stared ahead, eyes on that huge bed – and the first hints of panic seized your chest.

Quickly, almost unthinkingly, you grabbed Minho by the arm and pulled him. He stumbled, clearly caught off-guard, but he went along with it, letting you pull him to you and turn, pressing him up against the wall.

Easy. Your back was to the bed now, removing it from your sight, and that strange new weight of anxiety disappeared entirely. You went back to kissing him, hands back in his hair. Your new comfort zone, apparently.

Apparently, however, you didn’t entirely fool Minho, who must have picked up on your tension at least a little.

“I thought,” he murmured, between kisses, and made no move to grab at you like he had outside, “you might want,” more kisses, “some more privacy.”

You hummed, non-committal, your concerns already disappearing as you tried to figure out how to get Minho’s leg back between yours again without outright asking.

“Outside, people can…” he paused, probably because your nails had scraped along his scalp almost accidentally, and he shivered, “hear.”

You pulled away slightly, hiding how breathless you were, fixing him with a playful look.

“Hear what?” you challenged, pretending as if you hadn’t literally moaned in his ear just a short while ago.

Minho didn’t answer, but you knew that expression. It used to keep you awake at night, anger burning through you at just the thought of it. He was smug.

Surprisingly, the sight no longer filled you with burning rage – but it did prompt you to back him up against the wall again, stepping right back into his personal space, and pull his head down to kiss you again.

He relaxed into you, soft and gentle as his hands eased over your sides, which only served to wind you up more. Frustrated, you tugged at his shirt, pulling it up and out from where it had been tucked into his waistband, and let your hand snake up under it.

You had learned over the course of the evening that Minho, as mouthy as he liked to be around you, wasn’t the most vocal partner you’d encountered. Maybe that would have discouraged the average person, but you knew Minho. You’d known him for years, you knew every tell he had, the meaning behind every hint of body language.

You knew that when Minho’s breath caught, as your hands ran up his stomach, up his chest, exploring his upper body, it was basically his equivalent of shaking with anticipation.

You took the hint, grasping his shirt with both hands and pulling it upwards. The shirt – some kind of billowy white poet’s shirt, the kind with the little lace-up ties at the neck that he’d left undone and open – was loose enough to remove easily, and you let it drop without a second thought.

Even now, despite everything, you were reluctant to stroke Minho’s ego by openly ogling him. It was a challenge, trying to ignore the smooth skin, the lean muscle, so you dipped your head before he could see your reaction, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the underside of his collarbone.

Again, it felt like a special talent to recognise Minho’s deep inhale, when your hands brushed his chest, for the emotions it betrayed.

Your mouth descended lower, eager, towards his chest – and you let your tongue brush his nipple.

His breath caught again, and when you experimented with a quick nip of your teeth, his grip on your sides tightened briefly.

That was Minho’s equivalent of being horrendously, painfully turned on.

Your hand slid down past his abdomen, cupping him through his pants, and this time you let your palm gently grind against him.

Minho’s body shivered under your touch, and it felt like winning.

And then, suddenly, as if he had somehow read your mind, he scrambled for the zipper of your dress, determined to even the playing field. You briefly pictured denying him, pictured staying clothed while undressing Minho, having that kind of advantage over him.

Tempting, maybe. But then you imagined the feel of Minho’s hands on your bare skin, and you made your decision pretty quickly.

Minho pulled down your zipper, building anticipation as he hooked two fingers under each of your spaghetti straps and slowly peeled your dress from you, letting it pool around your ankles.

His eyes dropped, and his expression changed.

“Oh, wow.”

You couldn’t help but grin slightly, glancing down at what you knew Minho was staring at. Your underwear was a matching set of pastel pink silk, with little hints of lace and ribbon, even a bow or two. You’d taken one look at it and knew it screamed princess.

“I always commit to my costumes,” you replied, refusing to feel even the smallest hint of embarrassment. It was hard to feel so anyway, with Minho staring down at you with dark eyes, drinking the sight in, amusement long since shifted into something else entirely.

He reached forward, tracing the ribbon at the edge of your bra cup with his thumb, before letting it sweep down over the lace – and right over the peak of your nipple, eliciting a sharp inhale from you. “Were you expecting someone to see it?”

“No,” you admitted, half-tempted to arch your back, just to press your breast into the curve of his palm. “Nothing about this was expected.”

Minho hummed quietly in agreement, still taking his time admiring you. He grabbed at your breast, not quite rough but not entirely gentle, fingers splayed, making sure to drag his thumb back over your nipple as he did so. “I never imagined you wearing something like this.”

You were so focused on the weight of his hand on your chest that you almost missed the implication. Almost. “Imagined? You imagined?”

Minho’s eyes darted up to meet yours, looking caught out for just a moment before his expression smoothed again. “Sometimes. Occasionally.”

OK, you had to ask. “What did you imagine?”

“Not this,” Minho stated, stubborn, refusing to give a single detail.

Your mind whirred at the possibilities anyway. What? Did that mean it was the complete opposite of this? What was the opposite of this sugary pink ensemble? Black, sexy? Leather? A whole dominatrix-style thing, was that what Minho was into?

“Tell me,” you demanded, incredibly curious now.

He hesitated, before sighing. “…You know that red skirt you wear sometimes?”

Well, that was not where you thought this was going. “Yeah?”

“I’ve thought about you wearing it at debating. You’re stood behind the podium, most of you hidden from sight,” Minho described, and his voice slowly began to shift. “I’m stood behind you, like I’m reading your notes over your shoulder. You don’t look at me, but your legs part, just a little.”

Your breath caught, as his left hand brushed against your inner thigh, fingertips stroking circles into the sensitive skin there.

“You let me slide my hand up,” he continued, and slowly, his hand begins to drift upwards. “Because you want me to know you aren’t wearing anything underneath.”

Holy shit.

“And you want me to feel how wet you are, waiting for me,” Minho said, pausing his hand just a few inches from the edge of your underwear, waiting as he checked your face for any signs of protest.

You couldn’t imagine what exactly your expression was, but you’re certain that protest was probably the furthest fucking thing from it.

And so, his hand moved, cupping you through your underwear, feeling just how damp the fabric was. Your breath rushed out shakily at the first moment of contact, almost akin to a gasp, body shuddering.

“That’s what I imagine,” he said, and fucking shrugged, even as his thumb pressed directly against your clit.

You moaned, your hand immediately flying up to clutch at his shoulder for balance. Everything about Minho’s touch, the pressure, the pace, screamed relaxed. He wasn’t trying to do anything but just…touch you. Gauge your reaction.

You closed your eyes, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, as his fingers continued to work small, slow circles around your clit, still over the barrier of your excessively pretty underwear.

“Should have known,” you murmured, trying not to gasp, and trying not to push your hips towards his hands. “You’re the type to tease.”

Minho’s voice came low from somewhere above your ear, as his hand moved at that same maddening pace. “Not usually.”

“Ah,” you breathed, understanding. He was on the exact same wavelength as you. Every reaction sparked from the other was a victory, to be enjoyed, to be savoured. “I get it. I’m special.”

Minho murmured something under his breath, something you couldn’t quite make out, and pressed just a little firmer against you. You moaned from the surprise of it, burying your face further into his neck.

Beneath your hand, you could feel his dick twitch, now so firm and so insistently pressing against your hand that you knew it had to be aching, trapped in those skin-tight pants like that.

You moved your hand up, struggling briefly with how tightly his waistband sat around his hips, before your hand suddenly slipped inside, fingers grazing roughly against something slick and warm and hard.

Minho finally moaned, loudly, openly, hips bucking briefly up into your hand. “Shit.”

“What was that you were saying?” you asked, innocently, running your fingers back over what you knew to be his cockhead, teasing. “About no underwear?”

Minho sucked in a breath, and from where your head was resting in the crook of his neck, you could hear him swallow. “…These were already too fucking small.”

“They are stupidly tight.”

“Don’t act like you – fuck,” he hissed, cutting himself off. Probably because you’d squeezed him again.

His free hand found its way to the corner of your jaw, prying your face away from his neck so he could duck his head down and kiss you, hungrily. You reciprocated, basking in the way he groaned against your mouth.

And then, he asked. “Bed?”

You stilled, hesitating. “…Bed?”

Minho paused, pulling away a little to take in your expression. Immediately, you did your best to smooth it out, to appear unbothered, casual, fine.

He wasn’t fooled. “Is something up?”

You swallowed, still trying to maintain your composure. “Besides your dick? No.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, and faked one short, sharp laugh. “Ha. You’re so funny when you dodge the subject.”

“I’m not dodging anything,” you argued.

He paused again, waiting, watching you. And, after a moment, he pulled his hand away from your underwear to wrap around your wrist, gently tugging your hand out of his pants.

“OK, fine,’” you relented, composure cracking. That old familiar dread returned, lodging itself in the pit of your stomach. “I just don’t…do this. All this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you, and towards the room at large. “The way it’s all spontaneous, I mean.”

“Me neither,” Minho said, calmly, still waiting expectantly. “What else?”

Fucker.

You scowled, jaw clenching, teeth gritted as you admitted. “And my experience in general, is…one could say limited.”

“I figured as much.”

“Rude,” you pointed out, vaguely offended. You’d had this man fucking shivering from just touching him. And what? Now, he was calling you inexperienced? Amateurish? Like he could tell the whole time? Bullshit.

“No, not…” Minho cleared his throat, looking mildly exasperated. It was a look you often inspired in him. “I don’t mind. That’s why I’m saying this, because I don’t want you pretending when it comes to shit like this. If you’re not going to be honest, I don’t want it.”

Honest.

Shit.

You hesitated, debating internally, weighing the pros and cons in your head. It was so fucking Minho to pick the most aggravating time to do the right thing. Of course, the one time that him being an asshole worked in your favour, he refused to do it.

“Fine,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “Fine. OK.”

He waited, eyes on you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from averting your gaze, looking up at the ceiling.

“Technically…technically,” you repeated, with emphasis, “one might argue that…I haven’t had sex yet.”

Minho stilled, staring at you, eyes widening.

You swallowed, trying to stay firm. “It’s really not a big deal…”

“It is,” Minho argued, tersely, but when you looked at his face, there wasn’t a hint of anger. There was, however, a strong hint of guilt in his eyes. You could practically see his thoughts, the way he replayed everything he’d done tonight, the fear that he’d done too much, come on too strong, picturing you as some blushing innocent virgin he’d deflowered–

“I’ve done everything else,” you said, eager to clear up that misconception. You were far from innocent, there was just one particular act you hadn’t gotten around to. “Hands, oral, all that. Done it. It’s literally the one thing that hasn’t…like, I’ve had relationships, it just never reached the point that…”

It always went around in circles. You wanted your relationship to be serious, to be settled and firmly established and in a good place before it happened – but the time it took to get there made your partners panic, made them think that to go so long without sex, without wanting them, the relationship must actually secretly be failing. And then you’d break up, and you’d be even more guarded and hesitant the next time, and on it went.

“And I’ve been busy with school and my career anyway,” you added, swallowing, forcing a shrug. “Who has the time?”

Minho was still staring at you, but at least the guilt had faded away.

He’d made no move to get away from you, at least, so you took this as a good sign. With a deep breath, you turned around and took slow, measured steps towards that ridiculously large bed, and looked him dead in the eye as you made a point of sitting down on it.

Doing your best to sound certain, reassuring, convincing without leaving a single bit of room for doubt, you spoke.

“I’m happy and comfortable with everything but sex-sex happening. So, if you want that…” you trailed off, trying to think of a polite way to phrase the thought in your head, before giving up with a shrug. “Tough shit, I guess. That’s my line in the sand. Everything else is fair game, though, so don’t get all…weird about it.”

“I’m not getting weird about it,” Minho said, stubbornly.

“You were. Just a little. Like you’re afraid to break me or something.”

Something sparked in Minho’s eyes, and he smiled slightly. “I’d never think I could do that.”

“Good, because you can’t,” you repeated, firmly. “There, honesty. Done. So, either come over here or leave.”

“Leave my own room?” Minho asked, amused.

“Yeah,” you said, doubling down, leaning back to plant both hands behind you on the bed. “It’s my room now.”

For a second, it looked like Minho was going to laugh. And then you caught the way his eyes began to lower, following the lines of your body, the way you were sitting on his bed, clad only in underwear, waiting.

He exhaled slowly, appreciatively. “…This is happening.”

You weren’t sure if that was aimed at you, or himself, but either way it didn’t matter much when he crossed the room in a flash. Barely taking the time to plant one knee into the mattress beside you, his mouth was on yours, hand on the back of your head.

It was a gentle gesture, sweet even, how he cradled the back of your head.

So, just to be certain that he knew exactly where you stood, and exactly how much patience you had for gentleness, you took his other hand and slid it into your panties.

Minho groaned, pulling away from the kiss to look down, and you felt his fingers slip through your folds, the movement made slick and easy by the way you were soaked.

“You’re so impatient,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound particularly annoyed about it. “All the time.”

“Yeah,” you replied, unapologetic. “I know what I want.”

“Mmhm. And so do I,” he said, and pulled his hand out of your underwear. You opened your mouth to argue, to question why, until you felt his hands move to your back, to the fastening of your bra.

He unhooked it easily, sliding the straps off your shoulders. Pushing up from the bed to stand tall, Minho let the bra fall from his hands, before reaching down to grab at your waist and pull you to standing.

He kissed you again, briefly, ignoring your bewildered expression, before switching your positions – him sat on the bed, you standing over him.

“These are staying on. They’re a bitch to peel off,” he told you, and your gaze was practically glued to his hand as it ran up his faux-leather-clad thigh before he gestured to your underwear. “It’s up to you, what you do with those.”

Your hand, unthinkingly, drifted to the lacy hem of your underwear.

“…What, no preference?” you asked him.

Minho stared at you, eyes dark, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly with knowing, and didn’t reply.

Heat flooded your belly. You swallowed once, and hooked your fingers around your waistband, stripping out of your underwear before you could think twice.

He reached for you immediately, his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him. From what you could tell, he seemed to be guiding you towards straddling his lap – to which you took the slightest detour at the very last second, planting your knees either side of his thigh, the very same one that had been pushed between your legs on that balcony.

How very familiar a feeling. And yet, how very different, because now you were pressed against Minho’s naked chest, and when you kissed, one hand went straight to your bare breast, the other arm hooked around your bare waist.

Logically, you should have felt exposed – but there was very little room for logic here, not when Minho was squeezing you so tightly against him. You felt…enveloped by him. By his warmth.

It was…nice.

And then you finally let go of those last few traces of stubborn pride, and let yourself grind down on his thigh, and it was fucking fantastic.

You moaned, breaking the kiss to press your forehead against his, and rocked your hips faster. His thigh was so solid under you, thick bands of muscle from a lifetime of sports, clenching and unclenching. Heat pooled in your gut, spiking with every rock of your hips, every drag of your clit against him.

You felt Minho’s hand drop from your waist to curl around your hip, gripping tightly, urging you to keep moving. You pulled your face away from his, just in case – headbutting him in the nose, no matter the context, would very probably be a mood-killer – and instead lowered your head to plant kisses on the side of his neck.

Minho tilted his head back, just a little, granting you better access, his breath escaping him in one long, shaking exhale. You were forced to grip onto his shoulder with one hand, just to steady yourself, still grinding down on him.

Tension built between your legs, pulsing with every heartbeat as you continued to grind against him, and your kisses grew clumsier. Open-mouthed, harsher, teeth scraping against sensitive skin in a way that left Minho gasping.

“If I left marks, would it…” your voice was sluggish, raspy, dazed, “would…can I?”

It was a silly question, because the obvious answer was ‘no’, he wasn’t going to want any reminders of this temporary lapse in sanity.

And yet, Minho’s reply was immediate. “Yes. Yeah, you can, if…that’s…”

He broke off, with a noise so low in his throat that you could almost feel his chest vibrate from it, as your mouth latched onto his neck.

Your movements weren’t deliberate, not exactly. You had no strict intentions of marking up Minho’s skin, but it was just whenever it felt good. With every new sudden jolt of sensation shooting through your body, you sucked, leaving a path of your own pleasure scattered intermittently along his neck, the base of his throat, the swells and dips of his collarbone.

Minho reacted to each, and when you thought to look down, you saw his dick straining against his pants, so much so that it was even starting to pull his waistband away from his skin, revealing glimpses of what lay underneath.

You watched his hand lower to his crotch, as he tried to adjust himself, to figure out a way out of his discomfort. Without thinking, you reached down and pushed his hand away, letting your own slide into his paints.

Minho sharply inhaled, as you slid the palm of your hand over the head of him, letting your fingers grow slick, before wrapping your hand around his length.

He was hard, very obviously and very painfully hard.

And all of that was because of you.

Because he wanted you.

You felt your body physically judder at the thought, your thighs clamping around his. Something sparked inside of you. Up until now, you’d been turned on – obviously. You were naked on Minho’s bed and straddling his thigh, of course you’d been turned on, but it had been manageable. Like burning coals, smouldering, blazing hot to the touch, sure, but under control.

This, seeing him like this, was as if someone had jabbed right in the heart of those coals, oxygen rushing in and flames erupting, sparks crackling in the air. No longer under control, but all-consuming and desperate.

The muscles of your core clenched so tightly that it was almost painful, and with a ragged breath, you finally began to ride in earnest.

Minho clutched you with one hand as you moaned, his other snaking down to join yours on his dick. You let him guide your hand, controlling how hard you squeezed him, how slow you pumped him. Honestly, at this point, you didn’t have the concentration for it on your own, not when your legs were starting to shake with every new press of his thigh. You could feel something build, like a wave swelling, the crest just in sight but not quite…

“That’s it,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to your chest. His eyes were dark when he pulled back, watching the way you bounced. “You’re…God, you’re fucking hot, do you know that?”

His words only drove you further, stoking something within you, and you moaned in response.

“Oh, is that what you like?” Minho asked, eyes lighting at his new discovery. His moved the hand on your waist to settle on your breast, squeezing lightly. “Me telling you how good you look?”

“Minho,” you muttered, half-warning, half-longing.

“With our history, I’d have thought you liked me mean,” he continued, and you should have wondered where that smart mouth of his had been this whole time.

He leaned in, kissing your neck, following upwards, until he reached your ear.

“But that’s not it,” he observed, murmuring into your ear. His hand – the one on yours, the one helping you stroke his dick – quickened, gripping yours just a little tighter, and his breath caught for a second, before continuing. “You want to hear how good you feel. How good you are.”

You whined, your body faltering for a beat, before picking up again.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You like praise,” he said, so very confident. Knowing, almost, like there was something else to it. Something he recognised, intrinsically. “You want me to admit how…fucking perfect I think you are.”

“Minho.”

You felt him twitch under your hands, felt the way he reacted to the way you breathed his name.

“Because you are,” he said, the words falling from his lips, as you grew even more frantic. “You are, you are, you’re good, you’re perfect, you’re…fuck, keep going. I can feel how wet you are, you…”

Fuck, fuck, it was too good. Too good and yet not good enough. There were tears in your eyes and your legs burned from how tightly they were clamped around Minho’s thigh, how desperately you’d ridden him, trying to chase an orgasm you just…you just couldn’t quite…

“Maybe you should fuck me,” you whined, voice hoarse, shaking. You’d spent the last five minutes essentially edging yourself, your brain was fried, and all you could imagine was how easy it would be for Minho to pull you over just a short distance onto his dick, let it fill you, maybe it…

“Don’t. Fuck, don’t say that,” Minho gasped, trying and failing to make it sound insistent, final. You could see the effects of your words. He was tempted, he was sorely fucking tempted. You knew he was picturing the exact same thing that you were. “I’m not taking your virginity at a fucking house party. You…”

He broke off with a moan, letting whatever words that would follow die on his tongue as you squeezed him.

“I need…I need more,” you gasped, through gritted teeth. Your body was starting to betray you, your legs starting to give out before you could reach your climax.

You buried your face in his neck, panting.

“I can’t…fuck,” you moaned, before one little word fell from your lips, the one word he’d asked for so long ago, out on the balcony, “Please.”

With a sudden, sharp breath, Minho hooked his arm around you and rolled you over, pressing you into the mattress. Your hand slipped out of his pants as he moved, hurriedly, down your body.

He paused at the apex of your legs, glancing up. “Are you OK with–”

“Yes,” you hissed, your hand fisting in his hair and pushing him downwards. You were so close, you were so close, and his thigh wasn’t between yours anymore, and you just couldn’t… “Yes, fuck, please.”

You could glimpse the beginnings of a smirk as he followed your hurried pushing, but before you could even register it, you felt him lick one long stripe along you, and your head emptied of all thoughts.

His mouth was hot and wet and almost immediately targeted your clit, leaving you shaking as you ground up into his face without shame, chasing the orgasm that had been just inches away for so fucking long. You could barely breathe from it, each breath wracking your body in almost-sobs, every muscle stiff and coiled in desperation.

You felt Minho hook an arm under your leg, pulling it up so that it could sit on his shoulder, parting you just a little wider.

You arched your back, your head pressing even further into the mattress, eyes squeezing shut. When you spoke, it was barely coherent, a loose string of words. “…H-hands, fingers…please, whatever it…Minho, I’m so close, I’m…ah…”

You felt him slide in a finger – two fingers? More? You didn’t know, you didn’t care, you just knew how close to the edge you were. Your muscles were locking up, body shaking, even as Minho placed his free hand on the curve of your hip, thumb brushing your skin in small, reassuring strokes.

Your grip in his hair tightened, mind going blank, tears in your eyes as you gasped. “Yes, keep – keep…keep–”

You came, and it felt like shattering. Your body’s muscles locked, rigid, shaking, as your own moans rang in your ears. At some point, your thighs had clamped around Minho’s head, your one anchor as you tried to come back down to earth.

It was like every rational thought, anything with even the slightest bit of complexity to it, evaporated. You were left weightless, on your back, dazed. Slowly, sluggishly, your gaze drifted to Minho.

What a sight, you thought. Pretty.

His cheek was pressed into the flesh of your inner thigh, skin flushed so pink, head tilted down so that most of his face was hidden by his rumpled hair. He was kneeling, and you saw that his hand had returned to his dick. It was as if he were trying to be discreet, almost quiet, even as he desperately pumped himself.

Barely even thinking about it, you reached down. His breath caught when you wrapped your own hand around him again, letting him guide your movements once more.

His head lifted, and you caught a glimpse of his dark brown eyes looking up at you. Always so unreadable, even now, even when burning.

Your mouth moved before your thoughts could catch up. “You’re…”

You didn’t know how to finish that. Gorgeous? Annoying? Terrifying?

All of it was true, none of it felt right to say in that moment.

You just watched him, eyes locked, until he choked out a moan, squeezed his eyes shut, and came with a soft, low, “fuck.”

It felt dirty, almost voyeuristic, to watch him cum. But even if you didn’t look, you still would have heard him, you still would have felt it on your hands, your thighs. You still would have felt the way he slumped forward, head dropping to your chest, forehead pressed against the valley between your breasts, his quick, deep breaths against your skin.

You still would have felt the way it all fell quiet – until it was just you, Minho, and the impending repercussions of what just happened.

What you’d done.

What had you done?

Your head dropped back against the mattress, looking up at Minho’s ceiling but not really seeing it, as your senses slowly returned to you.

Shit. Fuck. Every other fucking expletive, they all ran through your head.

What the fuck had you–

Minho cleared his throat, lifting his head up off of you. You could feel the weight of his gaze on your face, and you tried to school your expression into something neutral, pushing down the storm of thoughts in your mind.

You didn’t know why, but you expected him to withdraw from you immediately. Maybe that was doing him a disservice, but it was true.

That was why you were so surprised by the kiss he pressed to your temple, strangely gentle, even as his usual sardonic tone crept back into his voice as he spoke. “Let’s clean up first, overthink later.”

“I’m not overthinking,” you argued immediately, because old habits died hard even in a fucking surreal situation like this.

He didn’t laugh, but there was the slightest twitch to the corner of his mouth as he replied. “Sure.”

He sat up, and you caught the way he winced, probably in newfound discomfort over the state of his…current attire. While he attempted to strip out of his ruined pants with anything close to dignity, you pushed yourself up to a seated position, trying to look anywhere but him.

What now? What now? It was all well and good for him not to overthink, but you couldn’t drive away the sudden flood of consequences that threatened to overwhelm you. Of all times, why did it have to be now, when you were forced to interact with Minho so much more? You’d have to work with this man for the next few months, fuck, you had to talk at the U.N. with him. What would people say?

What would Felix say?

Something powder-blue and soft entered your field of vision, smelling of detergent and lavender fabric softener. You blinked, looking up to find Minho offering you a towel, and you wondered how long you must have zoned out, wrapped in your own thoughts. There wasn’t quite a smile on his face – nothing so extreme like that from Minho – but there was something gentle in his eyes.

You took it, swallowing, and cleaned yourself up as best as you could. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Minho pull on a pair of black sweatpants – and when he straightened up to standing, you finally clocked the blooming purple marks littered across his skin.

“Oh, fuck, your neck. I’m so sorry,” you gasped, mortified at the blooming purple marks on Minho.

He glanced towards you, and gave you half a shrug. “It’s fine.”

They were very much not fine. They were prominent, the kind of hickeys you’d be embarrassed to leave on a long-term partner, let alone a…

A…

Well, whatever Minho was.

You swallowed. “It’s not, have you seen them?”

He paused.

“…Yes,” Minho replied, firmly, and there was something about his tone that made you stop, that made you stare at him.

He stared back, face perfectly neutral but refusing to look away. The implications were not lost on you, and your face began to warm.

Clearing your throat, you set the towel by your side and reached for your clothes, having to get up to pick up each item along the shameless trail that ran from the bed to the balcony doors, gathering them in your arms in a small, pink pile. “Please tell me you have your own bathroom.”

Minho laughed a little, nodding towards the door to your right. “Where do you think I got the towel from? Through there.”

You spent a few minutes in the bathroom, trying to compose yourself, trying to clean up properly, slipping your costume back on. The strange feeling in your stomach didn’t ease up, not even once. In the mirror, you looked almost exactly the same as you had when you first stepped into Minho’s room – but how was that possible, when everything had changed?

Fuck, just…you didn’t need to think about it. Deal with it later, deal with all of it later. You just needed to get out and get some space and distance and just…

You drew yourself up as high as you could, squaring your shoulders, and pushed open the bathroom door.

You found Minho standing in the middle of the room, seemingly in mid-step, turning quickly to face you. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was…what? Pacing?

“I can’t stay,” you stated, trying to sound firm. You mostly succeeded, were it not for the slightest hesitation you had, the faintest strain to your voice.

Minho paused, catching it immediately. “…Do you want to?”

You didn’t know how to answer that. It felt like a trap, even now, as if Minho was preparing to pull the rug out from under you. You wished you couldn’t imagine that level of cruelty, and yet you feared it, however irrational it was. “…I don’t want people to talk.”

Minho eyed you for a second, and yet again waited before he spoke, like he was trying to choose his words before they left his mouth. He settled for a very simple, very Minho statement. “Fuck people.”

At any other time, in any other situation, you would have rolled your eyes. You even felt the urge now, tied up in the same desire to go back to normal, to pretend everything was fine. “It’s not as easy as that.”

“It is,” Minho argued, but there was no irritation in his voice. Just quiet. “But I get it.”

“This was very…uh,” you swallowed. “…Impulsive.”

“Yes. It was definitely that,” he replied, and was he even capable of being any more cryptic?

You glanced away, finding it difficult to look him in the eye as you admitted, quietly. “…But, uh, good.”

Minho paused. “…Yep.”

Couldn’t he just say what he was fucking thinking? You needed to know, you needed to know if he was on the same page as you, if he was also thinking that it was too weird to just leave things like this. Silent and awkward and just…dancing around each other like this.

You swallowed, and folded your arms over your chest. You weren’t quite brave enough to look at him again yet, but you spoke up again. “Did you…have a good time too?”

And just when you were expecting another cryptic little non-response, Minho decided to cut straight to the point and catch you off-guard. “I had a great time.”

You blinked, shocked enough that your eyes darted back to him without a second thought. “…Good. That’s, uh…good.”

It was so strange to see him like this. Lee Minho, always so put-together, never a shred of vulnerability – and there he was, hair mussed, shirtless, barefoot, taking a breath as he tried to put together his next words.

“I had a great time,” he repeated. “With you. And…”

He stopped.

“And…?” You asked.

His mouth opened. Closed. And opened again. “…I…you don’t have to go.”

You felt something warm unfurl in your chest. “Minho, do you want me to stay?”

“…Yes.”

You took a step forward, tension melting from your shoulders, replaced with a new curiosity. You couldn’t quite believe this was happening, and yet…

Well, you couldn’t let him off that easily.

“Yes, what?”

He exhaled, making a sound almost akin to a huff. You recognised that sound, you knew it from debating, from arguing, from whenever you caught a weakness in his defence and pressed him on it. “Yes, I want you to stay.”

You took another step. “Why?”

This time, he scoffed, as if it could hide the slow flush of pink making its way up his neck. “You know why.”

“No, I don’t.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, and wow, this was fun. “Yes, you do. You’re too smart not to.”

You grinned. “Thanks, but no. You’re going to have to say it.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I am,” you said, without shame, and added. “You’re into that.”

He sighed, and gave in. “Yes, I am.”

“Well done,” you laughed, finally drawing it out of him. “You’re into me.”

Minho eyed you for a second, still just a touch out of reach. Like he’d done it on purpose, kept just enough space to protect himself.

You watched the way he hesitated, and for once, his mask slipped and his face gave away just a peek into what he was thinking. You could see the thoughts warring within his head, the way he hesitated before committing.

“…More than just that,” he said – he confessed – softly.

Just four words, but the meaning behind them was loaded. They hung in the air, obvious, weighty, vivid.

You froze, taking them in. You didn’t know why, you didn’t know how, but despite everything that had occurred tonight, Minho still had the ability to surprise you.

More than just that.

More than just…

Oh.

That was all your brain – your proudest attribute, your big, university-educated, sharp-witted genius brain –  was capable of thinking.

Oh.

“So…” Minho said, before trailing off, watching you, and eventually forcing the smallest of shrugs. “Don’t go.”

You were still reeling. You tried to make it all fit, every piece of information you had. The gentleness he’d held you with, the strange softness he’d had, the look in his dark eyes when you threatened to find someone else to kiss, the way he smiled sometimes when you were trying to piss him off, the way he just…watched you in conversations, in arguments, like he was just as interested seeing you think as he was countering the words that came out of your mouth.

When you laid it out like that, when you visualised it like points in a debate – with so many in the for argument and frighteningly little in the against – it seemed so obvious.

“I…” your words came out hoarse, dazed. “…Yeah, I can…not go.”

Minho’s eyes searched every inch of you, trying to figure out what exactly you were thinking.

“…You look like you’re about to pass out,” he observed, bluntly.

“You just said you like me, can you blame me?” You asked, hysteria close to creeping into your voice.

Minho didn’t reply for a second, still watching you. “Is it such a surprise?”

“Yes,” you blurted out, instinctively, until you took a second to actually think about it. “…No? Yes and no? I don’t…you’re, like, annoyingly hard to read.”

“Am I?” Minho asked, but the corners of his lips were twitching, suggesting he already knew the answer to that. “I’d say the same about you, but honestly, sometimes you’re an open book.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Especially when you stare at my mouth.”

Your eyes snapped up back to his, blinking, caught. There was definitely amusement in his gaze now, a glimpse of relief creeping in.

You scowled, face beginning to heat. “You’re enjoying this.”

He smiled, not a trace of hesitation behind it, a real and genuine smile, and finally stepped towards you. “I absolutely am.”

“Assho–”

You were cut off, as Minho ducked his head down to kiss you, and you couldn’t even pretend to do anything other than respond eagerly.

The next time the two of you got coffee, on another cold autumn morning when you were ten minutes deep into a squabble over geopolitics that you were determined to win, Seungmin had the grace to at least act surprised when Minho bought you a muffin and slipped his arm around your waist.

“Wow,” he murmured, deadpan, watching the way you relaxed into Minho’s side, even as you unpicked every thread of his argument. “Gee. Who would have guessed?"

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[nycbaby21]

Young and Stupid

prompt: sharing a bed with your best friend's older brother

word count: 4,600

“I’m really sorry,” I hear my best friend’s voice rush over the phone. “Wow no hello, no how are you, no I miss you. You must be really sorry,” I laugh closing my book standing up and stretching. I had been sitting at my desk for the past three hours studying for my last final in an hour. “So I know the plan was for me to drive up and grab you and then head home,” Liana started and her voice trailed off. I groan already knowing I’m gonna hate what leaves her mouth next. 

“So funny story, you know that really cute guy I was telling you about,” she continued. “Yes, I remember the very cute blonde with super blue eyes,” I say grabbing everything I needed and heading out of my dorm. I began walking to my last class and stayed on the phone with her the whole way. “Okay so come to find out he lives like an hour away from my parent's house. So he is gonna give me a ride home,” I stop in my tracks.

“Li, what are you saying,” I ask having a feeling where this is going. “I already talked to my parents and they are super excited to meet him. I can really see this going somewhere,” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Okay,” I say stopping at the stairs of my lecture hall. “You aren’t mad,” she asks, concern in her voice. “No, I’m not mad. I’ll just have to find a ride after I finish this test,” I say. “Don’t worry I already have one for you,” she says. “Liana Barzal what did you do,” I ask with a whine in my voice.

“Love you! Talk later, good luck with your test. You are gonna kick ass,” she rambles and then hangs up on me. I can’t let myself think about it and walk into the room focusing on the test at hand. After an hour, I walk out of the building and head back to my dorm. I tried to call Liana several times, but she never answered me. When I walked into my dorm, I could see why.

“Mat, what are you doing here,” I ask seeing her older brother lying down on my bed reading a book. “Geez about time you got back. I was so bored I started reading your stupid little book,” he says in a teasing tone. I snatched the book from his hands and put it on my desk. “Let’s try this again. “What are you doing here Mathew Barzal,” I ask with an attitude. I loved the whole Barzal family, they have become like a family to me over the years. Our parents were friends and then they had Liana and I at the same time. But Mat was a whole different story.

Ever since I could remember he would tease me. Little things never anything terrible or purposefully malicious. He would pull my hair out of the ponytail, always call me stupid nicknames, and my personal favorite pretend he didn’t know who I was almost all of high school. I had always hoped it was the classic, oh he likes you because he teases you kind of thing. Those dreams were shattered when I was around and his friends asked who I was, and he just replied just some girl my sister is friends with no one important. It was not like I had known him my whole life or anything.

“Oh, you used my full name. I’m so scared,” he laughed sitting up and staring down at me. My bed was raised so I could reach to slap the back of his head so I smacked his calf. He laughed at me and I just kept hitting him. Not hard enough for it to hurt, but it did feel good to let out some of my frustration. I had been so stressed with finals, maintaining my grades, and stupid boy problems.

“What the hell are you doing,” my roommate Maddie asks walking in with her girlfriend right behind her. “Aw Y/n, good for you. I’m glad you moved on from that loser. Also, this one is so much hotter,” Olivia says sitting down on the bed. My entire face burns red and I stop hitting Mat. “No no no. This is Mat,” I rush taking a few steps away from him. He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Oh shit my bad. I thought. You know what never mind what I thought. I’m just gonna sit here and look pretty,” she jokes with me. “You think he’s hot,” Maddie ask looking from Mat to Olivia. “I don’t know for a guy yeah. I mean I would never ever never. But I could see the appeal,” she shrugs explaining to her girlfriend.

“I don’t know. How you treat people is way more important than looks,” Maddie rolls her eyes continuing to pack her bag. The whole time I refused to make eye contact with him. “You know who I am,” he asks hopping down off the bed and leaning back against it. “You talk about me Y/n,” his voice comes off condescending. I huff and let out a groan and Olivia throws a pillow at me. I whack him in the face with it. He grabs my wrist and makes me freeze. Noticing the tension Maddie saves the day.

 “I know a lot about you Barzal. Your sister is amazing by the way,” Maddie smirks, knowing she is riling him up. “You think Y/n/n talks about you. Please, you have no idea how many people try to get info on you from her. She has never once indulged them,” Olivia says thinking she is being helpful. I cut her a look and she stops talking. He looks down at me and his face softens. “What is she talking about,” he asked me. “Well, we should get on the road. Long drive down to Tennessee. Love you Y/n,” Olivia says grabbing Maddie’s stuff and heading for the door.

Maddie comes and wraps me up in a hug. “Call me okay. I love you and have a great break,” she smiles. “I love you and you guys too. Also Mads you got this. Any parent should be thrilled for their daughter to bring you home,” I give her arm a comforting squeeze. She nods and walks towards the door. “Barzal, if I hear one word about you hurting my girl you better be ready,” she threatens and closes the door. The air was thick in tension as soon as it was just the two of us.

Mat turns and opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off before he can. “Okay well, she should probably get on the road too,” I say grabbing my duffle bag and throwing it over my shoulder, and grabbing the suitcase with my free arm. I feel myself being pulled back and the weight on my left arm is now gone. Mat now had my pink duffle bag over his shoulder. He sent me a small smile and headed towards the door. This is gonna be a long trip.

I slowly walked behind him following him to his car in the parking lot. I let out a laugh and tried to cover it with a cough. His head snapped back to me and he smiled. “Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” he says putting my stuff in the back with his. “No I’m not laughing at you or the car I swear,” I laugh and he cuts me a look. “It’s just you’ve been in the NHL how long? They have to be paying you enough for a luxury car,” I say getting in the passenger door as he shuts it behind me. “Not that I need to explain myself to you, but there is no point in all of that. I mean this is a great little car, trustworthy, and dependable,” he says leaning over and looking backward to reverse the car. I hated to admit it to myself but he looked way too good doing that.

“No, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I just figured you would be all flashy and get a car to impress some girl,” I shrug looking outside my window and not at him. “Maybe the Mat you used to know would have done that. But I’m not that guy anymore,” he says glancing over at me. His stare makes me feel like the same little girl who had a monster crush on her best friend’s older brother. “Maybe,” I ask in a teasing tone getting a laugh out of him, like a real genuine smile. Happy with how the conversation was going and in fear of messing it up, I reached over and flipped through the stations trying to find a station.

“Here, just play something on here. The static is driving me crazy,” Mat says handing his phone over to me. I held it like it was a bomb, scared if I moved it would go off. “What,” he laughs eyes straight ahead. “I don’t know. It’s just no guy has ever just openly handed me his phone to go through,” I say opening his phone, he didn’t even have a password on it. His background makes me stop. It was a picture of Liana, him, my little sister, and me from one summer when we were kids on my dad’s boat. “Well you have been around the wrong guys,” he says snapping me out of my trance.

I didn’t even know that picture existed, let alone why Mat had it as his home screen. “Yeah well, you could say that again,” I laugh dryly and scroll through his playlist trying to find one. “Oh my gosh. You do not still have this,” I say shocked pulling up a playlist I made him one summer when he said I had terrible music taste and wanted to prove him wrong. I click play and the catchy beat of some random boyband I was obsessed with fills the car. He smiles and starts singing along with the song. “What? Don’t go feeling all special or whatever, it just has some good songs on it,” he says trying not to smile.

The next two hours are filled with us screaming the lyrics of the playlist and dancing around in the car. I had actually never had this much fun with Mat ever. He always treated me like his sister’s annoying friend. Right now it felt like he was treating me like a friend. The snow started to pick up more and more. We had turned down the music to almost nothing and I was helping him watch the road. “I saw a sign for a motel like half a mile back. I know it isn’t ideal but I can’t risk having you on the road in this weather,” he says slowing down even more and turning into the motel.

“Risk having me on the road? What about you,” I ask as he puts the car in park. “Liana and my parents would have my ass if anything happened to you,” he said looking over at me. I deflated a little bit, cursing myself for actually thinking maybe it was because he cared about me. I just nod my head and open the door grabbing my bags and heading for the door. “Hey wait slow down. What just happened back there,” he asks rushing forward and opening the door for me.

The lobby was filled with the same chill as outside. I shook off some of the snow that had gathered up on my clothes and hair. “I have no idea what you are talking about Barzal,” I say walking further inside towards the front desk. “Y/n you just completely shut down on me,” he says grabbing my forearm and pulling me back. I roll my eyes and look up at him. “I have no idea what you are talking about Mat. Look I’m tired and cold I just want to take a hot shower and sleep okay?” 

I hear someone clear their throat and we both look towards the guy behind the desk. He has an annoyed expression on his face. I pull my arm away from Mat and walk towards the desk. “How can I help you tonight sweetheart,” his voice sends chills down my spine. He looked me up and down like he was a wild animal stalking his prey. “Uhm.. a room please,” I stutter out completely creeped out by this guy. My eyes shift over to Mat and then back to the guy. “Okay, so two rooms. That will be,” the guy is cut off by Mat. “One room actually,” Mat wore a smug look on his face. His arm slipped around me, and this time I leaned in and didn’t brush him off.

“Yeah sure okay,” he grumbles out typing away. Mat gave my side a squeeze and his thumb rubbed back and forth under my jacket. I tried to ignore the feelings that came with being this close to him. He was just trying to help like a big brother would. He didn’t see me as anything else. “Right this way,” he said and we followed him down a long hallway and to the last room in the hall. He opens the door and we both can see the room only has one bed in it. I try to control my face, but it must have slipped because the guy smirks down at me. “One bed alright with the happy couple,” he said emphasizing the word couple. 

“Perfect with us. Right baby,” Mat leans down and looks at me. I nod my head, not trusting my voice in that moment. Fear overwhelmed my system, I just couldn’t tell if it was from the looks the clerk was giving me or the fact I had to share a bed with Mat tonight. “Well, I’ll leave you both to it. Come find me if you need anything okay,” he says directly at me slipping a wink in before walking away. Mat all picked me up and carried me into the room away from that guy. 

He slams the door closed and I jump at the sudden loud noise. He turns around and looks at me. I have never been able to read Mat well, he always held his emotions close to himself. But in this moment I was grateful I couldn’t. He was seething with anger. He paced around the room rambling about how no man had any right to talk to a woman like that. I sat on the bed and watched him continue to walk around. “Mat, please. You are making me dizzy,” I groan falling back onto the bed with my legs still hanging off. I hear a deep sigh and feel the bed dip down next to me. “You okay,” I ask looking into his eyes.

“That doesn’t matter right now. Are you okay,” he asked voice soft. I nod feeling very vulnerable under his gaze. I open my mouth to ask him more about what the hell just happened but my phone ringing cut me off. “Y/n, finally you answer me. I got an alert that you and Mat both stopped and neither one of you picked up. I was scared to death something happened to you both,” Liana rushes out. “Li slow down okay. I am perfectly fine okay. The roads just got really bad and Mat pulled over and we found a motel to stay at. We are gonna get back on the road first thing in the morning,” I explain calmly trying to help ease her worry.

“Hey you know I wouldn’t ever let anything happen to her right,” Mat says to his sister looking straight at me. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, it’s just you guys are two of my favorite people, and if I lost you both,” her voice cracked and we heard a hushed voice comforting her. Mat raised his eyebrows and I smiled. “You can’t get rid of us that easy. We are gonna be annoying you for the foreseeable future,” I laugh telling her and trying to get off the phone before Mat realized who she was talking to. “Okay I love you guys,” she says before hanging up. 

“Who was that,” he asked looking back to me. I laugh and shake my head jumping up. He quickly followed suit and stood after I did. “I am gonna go get that shower,” I say walking backward towards the bathroom. “Y/n tell me who she was talking to,” he says walking closer to me. I keep backing up until my back hits a wall. Mat is right in front of me looking down at me. “A friend,” I say in a hushed tone due to our closeness. “Uh-huh. A friend. Who is this friend,” he asks maintaining our current distance. “Maybe a friend who wants to be more than a friend,” I shrug and laugh at the face he makes. “Oh my god. She is a little rat,” he said backing up some. 

“Why is she a little rat,” I ask finally getting to take a full breath. “She totally used me asking to bring you home as a way to hang out with a boy,” he says looking back to me, and then his eyes get big. “What did you just say,” I ask stepping closer to him. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he says trying to keep distance between us and trips over my bag falling down. “I’m okay,” he says looking up at me and then laughing. “Are you sure,” I ask laughing back at him. “Positive. Now go get a shower, you kind of stink,” he jokes and I kick his shin lightly.

When I was in the shower my mind drifted back to the car ride here. It was so different than any other time I had spent with him. Maybe he was right, he wasn’t the same Mat I knew growing up. I was more confused now than I was before. I shake off all of the feelings coming back from my teenage years and get out of the shower. I go to change into some clothes and realize I didn’t grab a shirt. “Hey, Mat. Can you pass me a shirt? I forgot to grab one,” I yell hoping he can hear me over the sound of the TV he had going. I hear a muffled sound and then a quick knock on the door. I open it and come face to face with him. 

His eyes drifted down and back up very quickly, he was hoping I hadn’t noticed. It was just the same as him seeing me in a swimsuit in the summer, which he had seen several times. Something different was floating around his mind, but I just couldn’t tell what. He cleared his throat and handed me the shirt. “Thanks,” I say softly and step back into the bathroom slipping the shirt over my head. I noticed how much bigger it was than normal and finally looked at myself in the mirror. He had given me one of his Islanders training shirts. I try not to think too much about it, but the small part of me who still believes in fairytale endings drifts.

I walk out turning the lights off in the bathroom and turning to face him. His shirt was so long it covered the shorts I had on. He looked up at me and his jaw tightened slightly. The air was weird between us again like it was earlier. “What are you watching,” I ask looking over at him when he doesn’t answer me. I call his name again and he looks over at me. “Oh uhm I don’t know some random comedy I found,” he says sitting up straighter in the bed. I nod my head at him and walk around the side of the bed opposite him. I pull back the blankets and carefully slip into the bed being very cautious of our personal space.

“Are you cold,” he asks looking over only being able to see me when the TV flashed a bright color. “No, I’m good I promise,” I say back lying to him. “Y/n/n, I can feel you shivering over there,” he says looking over at me. I feel his hand touch mine under the covers and he winces. “Your hands are freezing,” he says. He scoots closer and pulls me towards him. “Mat, I’m fine really,” I try and push him off. He ignores me and pulls me into his chest. I immediately feel warmer, either from his body heat or my face flushing. 

We both stay still as a board, both afraid of moving too much and scaring the other. I could feel his breath and hear his heartbeat. That was the only thing comforting me because he was as fast as mine. “Hey can I ask you a question,” he asks running his hand up and down my arm. “Yeah, you can ask me anything,” I say looking up at him. “Earlier when your roommate and her girlfriend were talking they said you never talk about me even when people ask. Does that happen a lot? People asking you about me,” he asks his hand stopping and resting on my upper arm. “Yeah, I guess it does. I mean people know me from Li’s Instagram and figure I am close with you or whatever. So girls try to be friends with me to get closer to you. Or guys only ask me out thinking I will introduce them to you,” I say scared of how he will act.

“I am really sorry that happened to you Y/n,” he says looking down at me. I look up at him and smile. “It’s okay Mat. Not anything I’m not used to,” I replied. “Has this always happened,” his question made me sigh. I just nod against his chest. “How long,” his voice breaks. “I don’t know, freshman year. It wasn’t because you were mister hot-shot hockey back then. It was because you were this hot older guy every girl our age was crazy about. So that’s why Li and I have always been really selective of our friends,” I answer back. We stay quiet for a minute and then I feel his chest vibrate some. “What,” I ask looking up at him and seeing a smile on his face. “Every girl your age thought I was hot, eh,” he asks in a teasing tone, but not the same one from childhood.

“Wow out of all of that, you wanna know if I thought you were hot,” I roll my eyes and push away from him. His grip tightens on me and I laugh with him. “Why does it matter what I thought of you way back then,” I ask. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Can I ask you a question now,” I counter and he nods. “What did I do to you growing up,” his eyebrows furrow at my question. “I mean it was like you had it out for me. Anything I did, you had a teasing comeback for it. And then in high school you just ignored me. So I’m asking you if I did something,” I ask waiting for a response. 

“You didn’t do anything, I swear. Well not intentionally anyway. You couldn’t help me having feelings for you. I don’t know as kids I thought of you just like Li and your sister. And then one day you weren’t the same anymore. I noticed how my feelings were changing with you. And I was stupid and young and had no clue what I was doing so I was just mean.” I stayed quiet just listening to him. “Then high school came around and some of the jerks I called friends started asking questions about you. Like who you were and some other stuff I’m not gonna repeat. So I just thought if you weren’t an active part of my life maybe guys like that would leave you alone. You were way too good for them,” he finished and stared ahead. “Mat, will you please look at me,” I ask, his eyes drifting across my face and landing on my eyes. He nods and I look at him,” Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Like I said, I was a young stupid kid. I was scared of you. You were my sister’s best friend, our parents are super close, and I just knew that I would screw something up. And it wouldn’t just be us it would be us I messed up, but everyone else would suffer,” he said. “Well are you still,” I ask, taking a leap of faith. “Still what,” his voice is filled with confusion. “Are you still young and stupid,” I whisper back to him. “Up until yesterday. Yeah, I was,” he replied. “What changed today,” I question leaning in closer to him. “I finally quit trying too hard around you. I was just Mat with you today. And it felt really nice,” he smiled leaning down our lips almost touching. “Tell me to stop and I will. We can pretend this never happened and go back to whatever we were. Even though that might actually kill me, I’ll do it if that’s what you want,” he says his breath fanning my face.

I close the distance between us by grabbing his cheeks with my hands pulling him closer. It didn’t even take him a second to fall into rhythm with me. All those years of secretly pining and hidden feelings were finally being released. I kissed him until I physically couldn’t anymore needing to breathe. “Holy shit,” I say resting our foreheads together.” If I had known that was what I was missing I would have said something sooner,” he laughed making me smile. “Well, we have about ten years to catch up on,” I smile at him reconnecting our lips.

The next morning I woke up all tangled up in Mat’s embrace. I nuzzled into his chest harder, waking him in the process. “Please tell me last night wasn’t some dream,” he says not opening his eyes yet. “No, you dork. It wasn’t a dream,” I laugh kissing the space between his shoulder and neck. “I don’t really wanna leave the motel, is that bad,” he asks running his hand in my hair. “No, it isn’t that bad,” I smile. “Good because I’m pretty sure Li may just kick my ass,” he laughs. “Am I worth it,” I ask looking up at him. “Worth every second of ass-kicking,” he says kissing my nose. I kiss his lips again and my phone ringing interrupted us. “Oh god, it’s her, isn’t it? She is already cockblocking me and she doesn’t even know yet,” he groans throwing his head back.

“Are you both still alive,” she jokes. “Yes we are both still alive,” Mat groans into the phone before moving us to where he could rest his face on my neck. My hands go to his hair and start running my fingers through it. “Well, I’m sorry for asking. Geez Y/n maybe you should have given him some and he wouldn’t be acting like an ass this morning,” she laughs and stops when she realizes neither one of us answers. “Oh my god. You did not,” she screams.

#nycbaby21works #nhl imagine #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal #new york islanders

[jadedvibes]

Some Bucky to brighten your day. ❤️

Last First Kiss

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Excessive fluff, first kisses, soft Bucky in Louisiana for New Year's Eve.

Word Count: 600

A/N: Thank you for this sweet @navybrat817. This truly brightened my day and inspired a nye drabble! Hope everyone has a very Happy New Year! 💙✨

“So a little birdie told me you’ve never had a new year’s kiss…” Bucky leaned against the wood railing beside you, taking in the sunset on the bayou.

Your eyes widened before you took a deep breath. “I’m gonna kill him.” Ever the meddler, Sam would tell your secret to the first guy you’d liked in a long time. 

“Yeah, I’ve been there,” he let out a laugh. “Sam always knows the exact right thing to do to get under your skin, it’s a gift really.” 

You shrugged casually. “He overheard me telling Sarah. It’s no big deal.” It really wasn’t, but you knew why Sam was annoyingly butting in. He’d also heard you telling his sister about how smitten you were with his dark-haired best friend. 

“Well let me know if you want to change that.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, a small smile playing at your lips. There was no way. “The killing him part or the kiss?” 

Bucky smirked, charmed and hopeful that you’d agree. “I haven’t had one in a while, so keep me posted,” he checked his watch. Only a few more hours until midnight. The Wilson household had planned a lowkey evening for the kids later, and the both of you would be in attendance. 

He’d secretly had a crush on you for a little longer than you had on him and with Sam’s encouragement he figured there was no better time to do something about it.

“Haven’t committed a murder or given a kiss in a while?” You smiled sheepishly, trying awfully hard to deflect. Of all the reactions to finding out you’d never had a new year’s kiss, this was the last one you expected. Sam’s best friend, a guy you thought was off-limits, offering to change things for you.

He let out a laugh, you were too adorable. “Think about it, sweetheart. I hear it’s good luck,” he playfully shot you a wink before heading back to the barbeque. 

Exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you turned back to look at the setting sun over the calm waters. Colorful, peaceful, and captivating.

Later that night.

Sam nudged Sarah before shouting. “Guys it's 12:04, you’ve rung in the new year! You can break it up now.”

Grinning against Bucky’s lips, you felt your cheeks warm again. Busted.

Bucky begrudgingly pulled away from you, turning to glare at Sam. “Just getting as much luck from this as we can, man. Feel free to look away,” he muttered breathlessly before meeting your gaze with a soft shy smile. His thumb stroked your jawline, noting how beautiful you were up close. 

He went from menacing to cute in a split second. How did he do that? It didn’t really matter because the way he looked at you, well you sure could get used to it. 

“Yeah, look somewhere else,” you teasingly scowled at Sam before tugging at Bucky's henley and kissing him again. He cupped your face and poured himself into the kiss. He thought he was out of practice, but it surprised him how easily he fell back into step with you. Soft and sweeter than anything you could’ve imagined. Warm and careful with just the right amount of desire to leave you aching. Nothing you could have expected, yet everything you silently wished for. 

Neither of you knew it then, but what a lucky year it would turn out to be. Never did you imagine that the man that would be your first new year’s kiss would also be your last; for many years in between, and every day after. 

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