#i might as well throw up my other oneshots

[mangoisms]

superposition ━ miyuki kazuya in which miyuki isn't the fool in love with his childhood best friend. it's you.

━ completed

━ wc: 27k

━ warnings: none

━ you can read this on ao3 as well

You met Miyuki Kazuya when you were eight-years-old. You didn’t know how to feel about him.

You were introduced to him simply because he was the same age as you and you happened to live a few houses down from each other. It had been an attempt to get you to socialize more, as the move from your home country had severely jarred you. Here you were, in an entirely different city and country with strange new customs and environments. The small, eight-year-old you didn’t like it very much.

The move had all been done in favor of the bakery your parents ran, recipes based on traditional dishes you grew up with. The bakery was right next door to your home and always seemed to be busy. Your father was almost always there, running around, making sure customers were happy while your mother played the entertainer.

They must’ve gotten tired of having to split their attention between you and the bakery because that morning before the bakery opened, she dragged you into the yard, where a short boy with brown hair and glasses waited.

“This Miyuki Kazuya. He lives down the street with his father. Go on, say hello,” your mother tried to coax you out from behind her legs, but you stayed there stubbornly, the fabric of her skirt balled up in your small hands. Your strength was no match against hers, though, and she pried you off her skirt, leaving the two of you in the yard of your house alone.

The boy peered cautiously at you. You realized he was smaller than you and relaxed slightly. Smaller kids were easier to deal with, right?

“Do you know how to play baseball?” he asked suddenly, watching with wide, amber eyes.

You pursed your lips. “Not really. It’s hard.”

Miyuki blinked in surprise. “Hard? No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is,” you countered stubbornly.

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is!”

“Can you throw a ball?”

You stopped, confused at the sudden question. “Of course I can,” you huffed, now affronted. What kind of question was that? Who didn’t know how to throw a ball?

“Then you can play. Come on, let’s go. I left my glove at my house.” He turned and began walking down the street, not bothering to wait for you.

He was annoying, you thought, but you were a little curious, so you followed him down the sidewalk to a two-story home a few houses down from yours, right next door to a factory.

“Wait here,” he instructed then dashed into the house, giving you no time to protest. You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest. Who was this boy? He was so demanding and know-it-all. And you barely knew him, who was he to tell you what to do?

While you were tempted to not listen to him, you stayed there, waiting impatiently for him to return. You glanced around. The factory next door had the sounds of work going on, but you couldn’t see anything and the windows were far too high for you to see. You squinted to read the sign. Miyuki Steel. Did his family own a business, too?

You looked back to the door as he dashed out of the house, baseball glove and ball in hand. He held up a hand, signaling for you to wait as he ran to the factory and popped his head into the doorway.

“I’ll be home in a little while, Dad!”

There was no audible response, but he turned back around anyway, walking back towards you. He tossed you the ball, which you clumsily caught with a scowl on your face.

“Does your family own a business, too?”

“My dad,” he corrected. “He makes machines. It’s cool.”

That was kinda cool, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you agreed.

“Are you gonna work there, too? When you’re grown-up?”

“No way. I’m gonna be a professional baseball player.” He turned to grin arrogantly at you. “Hey, hurry up. We need to get a good spot at the park.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you muttered, mood souring quickly at his bossiness.

Miyuki shrugged. “That’s what catchers do for their pitchers.”

“I’m not a pitcher,” you protested, following him reluctantly across the street after you glanced both directions, something he’d totally failed to do before crossing. “I wanna be a doctor.”

“That’s boring.”

You scowled, stopping on the sidewalk and dropping the ball unceremoniously onto the ground. “I don’t want to play, then.”

“Fine, then.” He continued walking towards the park, barely sparing you a glance.

You stood there for a second, casting a glance at the baseball still resting at your feet, then at your house that was quite a ways back. Squinting, you could see the bakery right next to it, the door swinging open and closed as people entered in quick succession. You recalled your mother’s words before Miyuki came over.

“Honey, please . . . Try to make some friends, okay? Kazuya is a good kid. He’ll grow on you.”

Initially, you’d been confused. Shouldn’t she have said something like ‘you’ll like him’ instead of that? But now, you understood. He was infuriating.

Yet, you remembered the loneliness of the first few days, stuck inside the house with nothing to do. Your older sister was always in her room, not willing to play with you. Apparently, she’d outgrown you, which didn’t make much sense. Sisters were always there, weren’t they?

Then, there was the situation with your parents and the bakery. On top of that, they were also preoccupied with your mother’s pregnancy. Rather, your father was constantly worrying about her, even though she was only six months pregnant. The baby only came when she was nine months pregnant, so why was he so worried about it?

You frowned, staring at the red stitching on the baseball. Miyuki’s bossiness . . . Well, it could be something you worked on, right?

You picked up the ball and ran after him.

“Wait up!”

You decided that he may not be the ideal friend, but he was there, and that was all that mattered.

Your younger brother was born two months later in the winter of December on a particularly cold day. By then, Miyuki had stuck to your side like a parasite, always asking for you to pitch to him, always asking for you to help him out if he ever got scraped up. And you did it, not necessarily because he was being annoying about it — which he was, but you were beginning to grow immune to his pestering — but because it was fun.

(Well. Disinfecting bloody knees wasn’t fun, but the cringe you’d get out of him when you poured hydrogen peroxide over the cut was always satisfying. Served him right for running around like an idiot.)

For your little brother’s one-month anniversary, friends and family were invited over. Aunts and uncles preened over you (“You’re growing up so fast!” and “You look exactly like your mother!”). It was horrible, so you managed to sneak Miyuki in and made a getaway to your room to play video games.

As you walked down the hallway, his attention was grabbed by your little brother currently napping in his nursery. (You didn’t understand why the party still went on even while he was asleep. This was all for him, wasn’t it?)

“He’s not that cute,” Miyuki muttered as he looked over the bars of the crib.

You nodded somberly. “He isn’t. He looks like a wrinkled grape. Mom said that’s just how little babies look, though.”

“So, you looked like that at one point, then.”

You scoffed. “So did you.”

“Of course I didn’t. I was a cute baby.”

“Sure.”

He reached out to tug on a piece of your hair and you batted his hand away with a scowl. “I won’t pitch for you anymore,” you said warningly.

“Fine, fine,” Miyuki snickered. “Come on. I wanna play Mario Kart today.”

You two snuck out of the nursery and into your room to play games for the rest of day, at least until he had to go home. Or until your mother discovered him.

Your name is called, just as your mother opens the door, in the middle of saying, “— come downstairs we’re all going to have din —"

She stops, blinking in surprise at the sight of Miyuki on the floor. “Hello, Kazuya.”

He stood up quickly and bowed.

She smiled, but it looked strange. “Would you like to join us for dinner? Perhaps you want to invite your father as well? Oh, does he know you’re here?”

Miyuki nodded but didn’t say much after that. You took over.

“He’ll stay. You should invite your dad, too. If he’s not working.” Both of you knew the answer to that, but your mother was still watching you two interact, a curious look in her eyes.

“Well, you know where the house phone is. Come down in a few minutes, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shut the door. You look down at him. “Working?”

He nodded. “All day.”

You shrugged, pulling yourself off your bed. “That’s okay. You can be with us.”

“Let’s play catch afterward.”

You rolled your eyes as you two exited the room. When you passed your brother’s room, the crib was empty. You could hear your family members cooing downstairs and figured he must’ve woken up.

“Thought you wanted to play Mario Kart?” you huffed as you walked down the stairs.

“I changed my mind.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s not a compliment.”

For the last few years of elementary school and your first year of junior high, you two were joined at the hip. Junior high also meant that Miyuki was getting serious about baseball. He’d received his first catcher’s glove from his father for his birthday that year. Not that using the one from the school hindered his performance anyway.

Being on the team meant he constantly got into fights with the older boys, so you slowly transitioned from cleaning up scrapes he received from rolling around to bandaging and icing bruises he received from fights.

You’d been making your way to the baseball field to catch Miyuki. You’d already heard of his loss from the other students part of the medical club and worried about his well-being, but when he dashed up the hill, he was grinning widely. Your eyes immediately went to the cut on his face.

“Where’d you get that?” You asked, gaping as he ran up to you, baseball gear over his shoulder.

“Never mind that. I can’t believe you missed today’s game. It was so good.”

“Miyuki, didn’t you guys lose?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Their catcher outplayed me!”

You surveyed him carefully. “Did you get a concussion?”

“What — No, I’m fine,” he shook his head, his cap moving precariously with his rapid movements. “You’re not listening to me right now. He was some foreigner, I heard his dad was in the Majors here after coming from America.”

“And this is good because . . . ?” you trailed off, confusion clear in your voice.

Miyuki’s grin turned competitive. “I finally have a challenger.”

You scrutinized him for a few more seconds, long enough for his grin to fade and for him to fidget under your gaze. Finally, you clicked your tongue in disapproval. “Is everything a challenge to you?”

“How else am I supposed to be the best?”

You scowled. “Maybe not get hurt? Also, how did you get that cut? Are you the boys beating you up again? They better not be.”

“I tripped and fell on my way up here.” As usual, he looked utterly unashamed. You had to wonder: did this boy even feel shame? You pinched the bridge of your nose, turning on your heel, setting off for the school.

“Dummy. Come on, let’s go.” You didn’t wait for him, knowing he’d keep up with you without any protests.

“Those fights were never my fault, either,” he disagreed. “Age doesn’t matter on the field and I was just saying it like it is.”

You rolled your eyes, though you agreed. You’d never been fond of the way his older teammates pushed him around; even if Miyuki could be painfully blunt sometimes, you didn’t think there was any reason to get violent with him. And even then, sometimes he didn't even need to say anything for them to get pissed off.

You really didn't like his teammates.

He never fought back, either; said everything should be resolved on the field. You agreed, but the other boys would never think like that. They’d only continue to beat him up because they felt insecure, or he said something about their performance — something that was probably true. He could be brutal but he wasn't cruel.

“Also,” he continued as you two reentered the school and walked to your locker where you held a first aid kit (specifically put there because of Miyuki), “there was a scout there today, from Seido High School.”

You unlocked the locker, rummaging through it for the kit. “And?”

He told you about his encounter (you snorted when he recalled her comment about his height) with her and when he was finished, leaning against the locker as you tended to his cut, he looked thoughtful.

“You think he’d go to Seido?”

“Who’s this kid again? Do you have a crush?”

Miyuki puffed out his cheeks, glaring slightly at you. “No way. He’s my competition. I can’t like the enemy that way!”

You laughed, reveling in this brief moment where you were the one annoying him. “Alright, alright. I don’t know, Miyuki. Seido’s a good school, I think, especially if you wanna get serious about baseball.”

“Should I go?”

You pressed the gauze to his cheek, shooting him an apologetic look after he winced from the pressure. After, you began cleaning up and putting the kit away again. He was awaiting your answer still, watching you with analytic eyes. You shrugged.

“It’s up to you. Seido’s a powerhouse school, so I think you’d be fine, especially since you’re so damn competitive. I just thought you meant you’d challenge him from another school, assuming he went to Seido,” you told him honestly. “But also, we’re barely first years.”

He nodded, but he still looked thoughtful. Too thoughtful.

You shut your locker and shoved him forward, making him stumble on his feet.

“Hey, what was that for?” he yelped indignantly, catching his balance and readjusting the bag on his shoulder.

“You’re thinking too hard,” you replied. “Hurry up. You need to shower because you stink and my mom wants to try out a recipe with you.”

“You’re picking up too many of my habits,” he said, mock-disapprovingly, as you put on your backpack again and fell in step beside him.

“Is Miyuki Kazuya admitting he has flaws?”

“Never mind. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

In your second year of junior high, your brother turned four-years-old. You also finally hit fourteen, along with Miyuki. With that, many changes came. Odd changes. Body changes. You wouldn’t lie. It was weird.

The counselors seemed to notice the sudden plight you all had. Girls stuck closer to each other, gossiping about boys and the like. Boys were suddenly coming in wearing heavy cologne, trying their hardest to appeal to others. You thought it was stupid. So did Miyuki.

That didn’t mean you two were exempt from the mandatory conversation with the counselor about the ‘changes in your body’ and the ‘strange way you may be feeling,’ whatever that meant. Truth be told, it was almost scarring.

“Tell me, have you noticed a change in your feelings to other boys? Perhaps even girls?”

You blinked demurely. “Not really.”

The counselor wasn’t satisfied, her lips turning down for a split second before she fixed into a proper smile. “No to the girls?”

“No to both of them,” you corrected politely. “I don’t really notice or care about those sort of feelings. They’re not necessary.”

“Not . . . necessary?” She asked, confusion as clear as day on her face.

You shrugged. “That’s what my older sister says.” Your elder sister had graduated high school last year and stayed home to help out with the family business, apparently finding some happiness in the kitchen baking pastries. You weren’t so keen on staying here, at least not in this part of Tokyo.

Your mother and father would probably have you stay back happily, too. As your third and final year of junior high grew closer, teachers and parents were suddenly awaiting your decision on a high school. You wished they’d just leave you alone.

“Alright,” she conceded warily. “But what do you think?”

What did you think? Now, that was the million-dollar question.

You shrugged again. The counselor was beginning to look annoyed.

“Well, regardless of that, you should know that some of the . . . urges you may get aren’t things you need to act on.” . . . Wait, what?

You stared at her. “Uh . . .”

“I’m sure you know what sex is —”

You blanched. “Sensei!” That was what this was about? No, you already knew about that, probably too much. The other girls in your grade hadn’t hesitated on divulging private details about their close encounters with other boys and it was far too much information you ever wanted to know about anybody else. You didn’t judge on what they were doing, that’s not it, it’s just — too much information.

“I already know about that stuff,” you hurried out, feeling your face begin to heat up. “A-And I know I shouldn’t do any of that until I’m older. I know.”

She scrutinized you and you wondered if this was what Miyuki felt like whenever you gave him that look. If so, you were going to stop. It felt like she was seeing right through you.

Finally, she sighed and nodded. “You have a good head on your shoulders, so, I trust you’ll know what to do if you’re ever faced with something like that. Remember, though, you can always say no to unwanted advances, alright?”

You nodded firmly, finding familiar ground. Yeah, your father had given you that particular talk, too.

“Girl or boy, you always ask consent and they should, too. Don’t be afraid to say no and don’t be afraid to get out of there if they don’t agree.” You weren’t a pushover. Hell, you couldn’t be one if you had to deal with someone like Miyuki. But even he seemed more aware of the kids that were suddenly looking at you with renewed interest.

“They ought to keep their eyes to themselves,” he’d muttered, stepping around to your other side to block you from the wandering eyes of a group of third years.

You only sighed, burying your nose deeper into the book on medicine you’d been obsessed with at the time. Oh, you could definitely take care of yourself and if need be, fight for yourself, too, but if Miyuki was willing to be your defender for now, who were you to deny him? It wasn’t like you doubted your ability to defend yourself. But he was already there and you weren’t going to waste that opportunity. Basic strategy in your opinion.

“Alright, then, we’re done here. Send Kazuya in, won’t you?”

You nodded and scrambled out of your seat, desperate to get out of that situation. Your face still felt irritatingly hot but you ignored it. You exited the office, spotting Miyuki in the waiting area, a sports magazine in his lap.

“You’re up, Miyuki,” you said, stealing the magazine off his lap, much to his chagrin.

“Hey, I was reading that —” he made a grab for it but you stretched your arm behind you, holding it at a distance. He stood up and you were momentarily surprised, stunned if you were being honest. So surprised you let him pry the magazine out of your hands.

“There’s a good article in here about the catcher that the SoftBank Hawks just recruited, I want to take a picture of it. You have your phone?” He held out his hand expectantly and you had the briefest of common sense to hand your phone over to him. His fingers brushed against yours and you pulled back, as though you’d been electrocuted. He didn’t notice.

You stared at him. When . . . When had he gotten so tall? Only last year he’d been the about the same height as you, if only a few inches taller, but it hadn’t been noticeable. When you’d been kids, you’d always been the one taller than him, but you kept growing and seemed to have stopped now.

Miyuki, though . . . He was easily five to six inches taller than you. What would that be? Five foot nine? Maybe even five foot ten? When had this happened? Was this recent? Or had it been gradual and you just hadn’t noticed?

“I’m gonna need to use your phone later to read this. Thanks. Hey, what does she want, by the way?” He’d handed you your phone back without glancing back and set the magazine back down on the coffee table, but once he’d turned around, he stopped and frowned at you, saying your name. “You good?”

You snapped out of it. “I’m fine, sorry. Just got distracted.”

“With what?” Of course. Miyuki Kazuya never knew when to drop something. He eyed you with barely-hidden suspicion.

“It’s nothing. Have you gotten taller recently?” Curse your loose tongue. You couldn’t help it, though. You had to know.

“Have I . . . ? Oh. Yeah,” he grinned, looking smug now, but there was something different because now you had to look up at him. It felt weird. Strange. “Five foot nine and half, last time I checked. Had to donate almost all of my pants. What about you?”

You scowled, your strange feelings disappearing as quickly as they’d come. “Shut it. Hurry up before Otsuka-sensei comes out here and beats you up.”

His obnoxious laughter followed you out of the main office. “She wouldn’t! I’ll see you in class, don’t eat lunch without me!”

You paused to look back at him. “What if you take too long?”

He grinned in a way that irritated you. “Guess you’re not eating lunch!”

You scowled deeply, swallowing down the curse words you felt compelled to throw at him, only holding back because of the receptionist currently eyeing you two in disapproval.

Prick, you mouthed.

He winked. Bastard.

Saying others didn’t have high expectations of you would be a lie. You were one of the top students in your grade, well-known for taking excellent notes and passing all your exams. Of course, others merely assumed you were just naturally intelligent, but it didn’t work that way.

There were far too many times when you had to split time between working register at the bakery and studying for a test. And many more times when you had to turn Miyuki down for some time to yourself. Honestly, though, you were sure you’d have run yourself into the ground if it hadn’t been for Miyuki’s pestering sometimes.

“I need to study, Miyuki,” you grumbled, switching between reading your textbook and taking inventory behind the counter. He was leaning over it, glove and baseball in his hand with his hat worn crookedly as per usual.

“You’ve been studying for the past three days. A break won’t kill you.”

“It might.”

He huffed petulantly. “You’re ignoring your best friend in favor of school? How cruel.”

You sighed shortly. “Don’t pull that.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sure your little brother would be more than happy to pitch to me —”

“You realize he has the arm strength of a toddler, right?”

“Or maybe Mei would be willing to do it. He has been begging me to catch for him recently . . .”

“Narumiya . . .” you grumbled out, mood souring further. Narumiya Mei was from downtown Tokyo, living it up in the more expensive districts at his junior high where he dominated as the ace. Apparently, Miyuki and Narumiya had gone head-to-head during a game in the first semester of your second year and Narumiya liked Miyuki’s style of catching, even though your junior high’s team had lost phenomenally.

“I’m sure he won’t mind taking the train here . . .”

You clicked your tongue, flipping to the next page of your textbook. “Miyuki, you and I both know you can’t handle him for long periods of time. It’s literally impossible.”

He cracked a genuine smile. “Give him more credit.”

“No,” you refused stubbornly. Narumiya could be so condescending sometimes. The first time you’d met him, he hadn’t hesitated to throw an insult at you and worse, Miyuki hadn’t felt the need to defend you from it. That had been your first serious fight.

“Yes, Miyuki, I can defend myself, but I hardly knew him. Why couldn’t you step up for me? Just that once?”

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it actually is.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends defend each other, especially best friends, so what the hell?”

“If that’s all you’re going to talk about, I really don’t want to play with you, then.”

You had thick skin. You had to, being friends with Miyuki and all. And okay, fine, you were hurt when he had dismissed you so easily. Sure, maybe you were making this a bigger deal than it should’ve been, but nothing had quite hurt as much as it had when you learned that he’d went to catch for Narumiya after you had abandoned him. (Or rather after he’d abandoned you.)

Your older sister had been pissed to find you sniffling about it later on that day, vowing to kick his ass. You only barely managed to restrain her. Miyuki wouldn’t like someone else coming to speak or fight on your behalf. You both were mature enough to discuss it. Or so you hoped, anyway.

One week of no contact between you two had you almost caving and giving into him, but to your pleasant surprise, he approached you first. More specifically, he’d taken the painstaking time to jump the fence into your backyard and toss pebbles at your window until you finally opened it, almost taking a well-aimed pebble to the face in the process.

Of course, he didn’t outright apologize. Instead, he’d asked: “Can we play catch?”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“It is,” he agreed, then held up his glove and ball. “Please?”

You’d sighed, turning back into your room to change out of your sleeping clothes into something more suitable for going out in the muggy July night. It was easy to sneak out, your parents and siblings all fast sleep and immune to any quiet noises you might’ve made on the way out. Miyuki was waiting for you on the sidewalk in front of your house when you exited; you shut and locked the door quietly behind you.

Silently, you two began the trek to the park down the street. You found yourself tensing whenever a car would pass, ducking your head to hide your face. When the third one came round, you finally spoke. “What exactly am I breaking curfew for, Miyuki? My parents would kill me if we got taken home by a police officer.”

You lifted your head once the car was out of sight and turned to look at him. He had a pensive frown on his face. “I . . . I’m sorry.” He didn’t make eye contact with you. (In the present day, you distantly wondered if he’d been taller than you at the time, too. He had, but only by a few inches, not as tall as he’d been during the talk with the counselor.)

You were speechless. Miyuki Kazuya didn’t . . . apologize. Quite honestly, you were beginning to think you had made a bigger deal out of it than necessary. But perhaps that had been a trick on your own part, anything to try and talk with Miyuki like normal again. Up until now, you two had been close, though baseball was starting to take up a lot of his time and the medical club at school had begun helping third years find good high schools with medical curriculum programs so you were constantly staying after school.

He continued to avoid your eyes. “I should’ve defended you. You were right. Mei was being an ass and you don’t deserve that. Only I can be mean to you.”

The last part almost sounded like a defense mechanism, a way to stop this conversation from becoming too heavy. You appreciated it more than you thought you would.

You elbowed him in the ribs. “Is it physically impossible for you to say something nice?”

“Yes.” Miyuki nodded unabashedly. You scowled, but there was no heat behind it.

“Fine, I accept your apology. I’m sorry, too. I did kind of make a big deal.”

He shook his head, adamant now. “I was being a dick. You were right.” He looked at you, a little more meaningful. He elbowed you back. “Now, come on, I’ve been missing my favorite horrible pitcher.”

“Keep saying stuff like that and I won’t pitch for you.”

His laughter echoed off the houses, his eyes looking golden underneath the tawny glow of street lamps —

“— attention to me. Hey!”

Tan fingers snapped in front of your face, making you jump as you were abruptly brought back to the present. Right. Studying, an annoying Miyuki (as usual), the impending end of course exam for your English class. You regained your bearings, finding a frowning Miyuki in front of you. The furrow of his brow told you he was concerned.

“Sorry. Just got lost in thought for a little while,” you chuckled, a little embarrassed. Despite yourself, you noticed how the warm glow of the setting sun accented the golden flecks in his eyes, which were studying you seriously. You tried for a reassuring smile, but he clearly didn’t believe you.

He called out to your mother. “I’m going to be taking her out for a few! She’s been working hard!”

You gaped at him and barely managed to slip a bookmark into your textbook before he shut it and slid it underneath the counter. Your mother popped her head out of the kitchen, smiling in that perceptive way of hers.

“Of course, Kazuya. Be back by six. You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and bring something to your father if he can’t make it.”

He grinned at her, in that charming sort of way he always did for your mother and older sister. “Yes, ma’am!”

You sighed, taking off the bakery apron and reaching for your own baseball cap. You both had gone to a SoftBank Hawks game for his twelfth birthday and bought matching caps for it. It was one of your favorite memories.

You didn’t truly care for baseball — definitely not like he did — but it made him happy, so you never really minded playing a good game with him.

By no means were you a legitimate pitcher, and as you two grew, you worried that your horrible pitching would hinder his performance since you didn’t provide a true challenge, but he had constantly said he liked playing with you for fun.

“Competitions are fun, too,” he’d agreed with your initial argument. “But I don’t have to be strategic or hard-working with you. It’s always been better with you.”

You weren’t sure you believed him, as you’d see the way his eyes lit up whenever he was out there on the field, hitting home runs, calling pitches (honestly, baseball was the perfect sport for him to show off his bossiness; you always pitied the pitchers assigned to him).

But, as you two walked to the park, you listening to him ramble about some baseball game, you figured he’d been playing catch with you this long, hadn’t he? That had to count for something.

Third year meant picking your high schools, pulling all-nights to study for entrance exams and most importantly, keeping up your grades — all the while dragging a reluctant Miyuki right behind you.

“What if you can’t get a scholarship? What if you do get one but it’s only for baseball? They’ll really be paying close attention to your grades then, you know,” you’d lectured him for the umpteenth time since the first semester began. “Having good studying habits won’t hurt you.”

“Yes, it will,” Miyuki grumbled petulantly from his spot next to you on your bed, laying down with his arm tossed over his face. You rolled your eyes, picking out a pencil to use for your assignment that you were about to do.

“You have no problem swinging three hundred times a day but when it comes to notes, what is it? You can’t read now?”

“I’m illiterate.”

You climbed over his legs to retrieve your notebook from your backpack on the floor, then threw it onto his stomach, making him jump at the sudden impact. You climbed back over to your spot against the wall. “Read those. I dumbed it down for you.”

“Thank you!”

You shook your head, grinning despite yourself. He was a real loser sometimes.

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence, punctuated by the sound of your little brother’s laughter from downstairs. He was probably watching one of his kid shows again. When the bakery began to get busier with the new school year, TV had become a fixation for him, a surefire way of keeping him in one place.

You unfolded your legs out from beneath you, resting them over Miyuki’s legs. He didn’t protest. Not that he ever did, really. Much to your pleasant surprise, Miyuki could be incredibly affectionate, always wanting to maintain physical contact with you. Whenever your class was taken on long field trips, his head always found your shoulder, though you knew it had to be uncomfortable for him because of the height differences between you two. He frequently draped an arm over your shoulders, if only to lean heavily on you and cause you to stumble — much to his amusement.

It was strange. He’d done those things often when you were kids, and they’d only increased in frequency as you’d gotten older, but . . . Why exactly were you noticing? Who cared? Miyuki sure as hell didn’t.

Maybe it was because sometimes, on those long field trips, when the hum of the engine, the feeling of his warm body next to yours put you to sleep in an instant, you’d wake up with the phantom warmth still lingering, finding yourself missing it. Or when you couldn’t help but notice the pleasant scent of something sweet and a little spicy whenever he’d lean on you and it’d be so overwhelming — his weight, the warmth, the scent — that your knees felt a little weak.

You pressed your mechanical pencil harder onto the page, finding your heart beating at what seemed like an unhealthy speed. That wasn’t good. Why was your heart doing this now? All you’d been thinking of was Miyuki.

“The heart should always be beating steadily. The only time it doesn’t is when you’re high on adrenaline, you’re exercising, or —”

“What about when you have a crush, Miss?” You couldn’t recall who had asked that, but it had probably been some annoying underclassmen. A few of the other kids present giggled while the upperclassmen rolled their eyes.

The nurse smiled indulgently. “Or if you like someone.”

“Have you thought about what high school you’re going to?” Miyuki’s voice brought you out of your internal strife. You almost breathed a sigh of relief, desperate for that distraction. You turned your attention back to your assignment since you’d neglected that, too. Then, you realized what he was asking.

“Not really.”

You had.

Miyuki hummed quietly. You could see him glancing at you in the corner of your eye.

You wrote down the answer to an equation. “You?” you asked.

“Sort of . . . I think I might head to Seido.”

You couldn’t say you were surprised. That guy — Chris, you’d learned his name was — had really gotten Miyuki going, a “potential rival” to keep him on his toes.

“Oh?” you asked, feigning surprise.

“Yeah. I got an offer from them. Full ride for academic and baseball.”

“Studying pays off, doesn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you don’t have a school in mind already,” he said, ignoring your jeer. He laid the notebook flat across his chest and turned his eyes up toward your ceiling. “What have you been doing in the medical club all this time?”

You snorted. “Helping the last third years get into good high schools. I don’t know, Miyuki, I just haven’t really thought about it that much.” Now, you were blatantly lying to him. Oh, you’d given high school a lot of thought. The idea of going somewhere far away — such as Hokkaido — detested you, and you knew Miyuki would love it if you’d go with him to Seido. In fact, any moment now —

“Why not Seido? They have a great academic program, you know. They’re always in the top ten national rankings every year for academics.” He was trying to be nonchalant about it, but you could hear — and understand — the message under his words. Let’s do this together.

Your grip on your pencil tightened. The idea of being away from him was painful.

But was that the best idea?

You managed to stave off his questions, only promising to tell him your choices when you managed to find a few good schools. He left after dinner, taking a plate for his own father and your notebook, promising to read them. (You didn’t believe him.)

When you went back up to your room, you went over to your dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer. It was the one with undergarments — one that Miyuki would never touch since he knew what was where. You brushed aside the articles of clothing and took out the thick envelope.

Mimayama School for Medicine and Science

It was in Kyoto, a huge campus that spanned an entire block and was the height of a skyscraper. It was a well-renowned school, one that had perfect statistics and scores in all subjects. The ideal high school. But it didn’t have a baseball program. Not to mention that there was a three-hour train ride from here to Kyoto.

Your grip on the envelope tightened, denting the thick cardstock. The fact that you’d been invited there was something to celebrate, but you hadn’t told your parents, having managed to steal the envelope before they could see it.

Maybe you would’ve celebrated if you lived a different life. One where Miyuki wasn’t there.

You felt guilty for thinking like that, but your sister’s words echoed in your head.

“Don’t allow feelings to influence important life decisions. Don’t think about those sorts of things. You don’t need them.”

You’d been a first year when she’d said that to you, strangely enough. It’d been the same thing you’d repeated to your counselor during that horrible conversation about puberty. And you’d firmly believed it, though there was one exception.

Don’t let others influence your feelings. Except Miyuki.

He was your best friend, after all. You’d be cruel to not feel anything.

What were you going to do, then?

Your answer seemed to come sooner or later. More specifically, the day Miyuki got into a fight.

It had been a cool October day, baseball season already over for Miyuki so he had no choice but to hang around the campus after school while you went to your regular club meetings.

The meeting had been adjourned earlier than usual so Miyuki wasn’t leaning against the wall like he usually would. The last text he’d sent you said that he was in the library, so you began walking over there. As you neared the doors, you passed a few girls, talking rapidly to each other.

“. . . fight. That’s so weird, I’ve never seen him lose his temper.”

“I know! He’s almost always antagonizing someone else, I can’t believe Tanaka was able to get Miyuki so riled up.”

You froze and turned to them, recognizing them as a few fellow classmates.

“Wait, what happened?” You stepped toward them, drawing their attention. They became fidgety and sheepish under your eyes, avoiding eye contact.

“Um . . . Miyuki got into a fight with Tanaka a few minutes ago outside the library.”

What?

Miyuki didn’t fight. He couldn’t fight. Well, no, you were sure he had a few good moves on him, especially since baseball kept him in prime shape and there were his unfortunate experiences with his more violent seniors on the team but they were long gone. Since he was a third year now (and considerably taller and more muscled), no one would dare to mess with him. Especially because he’d proved his worth on the field, that he had a right to say the things he did. It’s just that you knew he hated being at the tail-end of those confrontations. Having to take the hits, while refusing to say anything to any of the adults because they wouldn’t do anything. The violence of it. Violence has no place in baseball, he’d once said. Anything someone needs to say can be done on the field.

More than that — he couldn’t fight without risking expulsion. It would look horrible on his record and — he wouldn’t be able to go to Seido.

“Why?” you recovered quickly, not caring that you were being demanding now, probably too harsh if anything.

“We don’t know . . . We just heard it from some other kids.”

“Where is Miyuki now?” He probably wouldn’t answer your texts. If anything, it’d be exactly like him to hide this from you.

The girls shared glances again. “Um, I think he went to the boy's bathroom by 3-B.”

“Thanks,” you told them shortly, then turning on your heel and heading towards the hallway for third years. You made the decision to not retrieve your first aid kit. You’d lead him back to your house instead. He didn’t need to be around the school with visible injuries.

Once you were at the boy’s bathroom, you hesitated. What were you supposed to do? Could you go in there? Would he allow you to even see him? Maybe you could wait. He had to come out eventually.

You leaned against the lockers next to the wall, wondering what on earth happened. Even disregarding his dislike of violence and the huge risk that comes with fighting, like those girls had said, he wasn’t someone who got riled up easily. He was the one riling people up. But the fact that it’d been Tanaka made some sense; Ichiro Tanaka was the asshole in your class, always finding someone to pick on, always making unwanted advances on girls.

Miyuki may be an asshole in the sense that he could pick you apart and annoy you to death, but he had honor. (Plus, he’d never shown any interest in any girls or boys in your class ever.)

You rubbed your forehead tiredly, pulling out your phone to text your mother that you might be home earlier than usual. Just as you’d sent off the text, the door to the boy’s bathroom opened and Miyuki stepped out, his backpack slung over his shoulder, still not noticing your presence until you’d reached out to tap his shoulder.

You could see him tense, muscles stiffening. He was hesitant to turn around and you were about to call him out on it, but he turned before you could say. Your eyes widened as you took stock of his injuries.

“Are you okay?” you gasped, any thought of scolding him thrown out the window at seeing the busted lip, the cut on his temple, and the blossoming bruise on his cheek. A quick glance at his hands showed you the cuts on his knuckles, though they were only on his left hand. You knew he caught and threw with his right. At least he’d had that foresight. “What happened?”

He avoided your eyes. “I may have gotten into a fight with Tanaka.”

You huffed, glad to see he was acting normally. Well, as normal as Miyuki could ever be.

“No shit. I know that part already — though I don’t know why — but what did Tanaka do to you?” There was the underlying question in your words, one you wouldn’t outright say because it would probably appease him. Did you win?

Miyuki picked up on it anyway, smirking but then wincing at the pain he was probably feeling on his lip. “I won.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You — I can’t believe you. Come on, let’s do this at my house. We don’t need someone seeing you.” You two began walking towards the exit. You shot him a worried glance. You couldn’t imagine the potential repercussions this could entail. You didn’t want Miyuki to be stuck here. You wanted him to leave, to go to Seido and become the best damn catcher to play high school baseball.

As if sensing your thoughts, he spoke. “No one’s going to say anything. Tanaka’s looking for a volleyball scholarship at some school in Hokkaido and his lackeys have their own scholarships they need to worry about, too. It was an unspoken agreement.”

You sighed heavily. “I don’t want you to throw away your chances at a good baseball career, Miyuki. Especially not over a fight, which, speaking of, is very unlike you. So, regardless of that . . . what on earth happened?”

He stayed silent. You pursed your lips and led him to your house. It was easy to sneak past the bakery, where your parents and older sister would be preoccupied with the dinner time rush. The house would be empty, too, since your little brother was over at a friend’s house for a playdate.

You ushered him up to the bathroom on the second floor, dropping your bags off in your room beforehand. You shut the door behind you and locked it for good measure, then opened up the window to let some fresh air in. Miyuki was still silent, appearing introspective. For once, you were unable to find out what he was thinking.

You made him wash his face and hands first, taking his glasses and setting them on the counter behind you so they wouldn’t get wet. Once he was finished and resituated on the closed toilet seat, you began tending to his wounds, first going back downstairs to grab an icepack and wrapping it in a towel so it wouldn’t be too abrasive against his face. You worked on disinfecting the cuts on his knuckles, which weren’t too bad. You had one hand cupping his, the back of his hand facing up as your fingers pressed against his palm to spread out his hand.

He grimaced at the burn of the hydrogen peroxide but didn’t say anything. When you moved to wrap up his knuckles, you closed your hand around his fingers, trying not to focus on how the calluses rubbed against your skin. You moved on to the gash on his temple, murmuring a soft “sorry” when he winced from the burn. He had to keep his glasses off, but his eyes were on the floor.

You’d been applying an ointment to the cut when he spoke again. “Tanaka said something . . . Something I’m not repeating.” You paused, your eyes briefly flickering to his bandaged hand in his lap that clenched into a fist. “I couldn’t let it slide. I know . . . you know how I feel about fighting but . . . it was about you. And I’m not going to let him, of all people, talk about you like that.”

He sat up straighter, his eyes meeting yours. You froze, golden irises searing into you in a way that made your heart race. The lack of glasses made it all the more intense, your stomach doing flips in nervousness.

“Miyuki . . .” you muttered, feeling your face heat up. “I —”

“Don’t say you don’t want me fighting because of you. I did it because you’re my best friend and no one gets to speak about you that way. No one.”

Miyuki was passionate about baseball. About his cooking. About the SoftBank Hawks. But never about you. Yet, here he was, speaking so strongly that you felt a little weak at this display of anger and . . . touched.

You pursed your lips, breaking eye contact with him to turn to the sink and take out a bandaid to put over the cut. You carefully covered the wound then took out another disinfectant wipe to use for his lip. You actually hesitated before you started your work, but it had to be done.

You brushed his chin with the back of your hand, avoiding grabbing it. He turned his head up with no qualms, but his eyes stayed on your face. You attempted to disinfect the cut on his bottom lip, but it proved to be more difficult than you thought. It could also be because your heart was racing and your face was itchy with heat. You swore silently and grabbed his chin with your hand to better clean.

You hated this. Here you were, close to his face, staring at his lips as you cleaned them. At least you had an excuse to stare, though.

You caught your train of thought and almost swore out loud. Where was that even coming from? When had you begun thinking of him like that? Yeah, Miyuki was good-looking, almost unbelievably so, but it wasn’t anything new. So why now?

You realized far too late that you’d stopped moving the wipe on his lip, the white cloth blossoming red from the blood still leaking. He winced from your grip and you wrenched your hand back, uttering a soft “sorry” again. You turned back to the sink to grab the ointment, only squeezing out a small amount so that it wouldn’t be noticeable.

With shaking hands, you pressed your fingers to his jaw to angle his face once again, concentrating on anything but the feeling of his smooth skin underneath your fingers. You spread the ointment over the cut, trying your best to be gentle but also ensuring that it wasn’t showing.

In a desperate attempt to distract yourself and to break hold from the heavy atmosphere you’d found yourself in, you lifted your head to look at him again, but before you could even think to speak, the look in his eyes made you stop. Your brain short-circuited at the look he was giving you, whether it was on purpose or not, you didn’t know. You stood there frozen, still invading his personal space for the most part.

For a moment, it felt like time had stopped. His eyes looked warm underneath the light coming in from the window, casting shadows over the curve of his nose, making him look so much more older and — and handsome.

Then, like a warning siren, your sister’s voice echoed in your head.

“Don’t let feelings cloud your judgment.”

You sighed shortly, the loud noise shattering the moment. “Honestly, Miyuki.” You shook your head, turning around to toss the q-tip into the trash along with the other used supplies. You heard him make a surprised noise at your sudden movements.

You picked up his glasses off the counter and handed them back over then took a few steps back, leaning against the wall opposite to him, putting a respectable amount of distance between you two.

“I appreciate what you did,” you said, managing to keep the shakiness out of your voice. He’d put on his glasses again, his eyes now impossible to read. “But, god, I don’t want you to not be able to go to Seido . . . That is where you decided to go, right?”

He shrugged. “Probably. Don’t worry. I mean, I don’t regret what I did. Not at all. But I do understand what you’re saying and I’m not planning to make this a regular thing.”

You scowled, feeling the atmosphere around you lighten up. “I sure hope not. You don’t need to be batting with cut up knuckles like that, you dummy.”

“I know,” he said quietly, before trying for a smirk, though it came out more like a pained grimace. “Besides, you’re here to fix me up, aren’t you?”

You huffed, turning your nose up at him. “You’re so annoying, Miyuki.”

“Thanks.”

“Shut up.”

But even as he began talking about the studying he’d managed to accomplish before he’d left the library and ended up face to face with Tanaka, you thought about your plans for high school. These feelings . . . Whatever they were, they weren’t needed. Not right now. Not right before you two were picking out your high schools. You couldn’t allow them to cloud your judgment.

At the same time, though, going to Seido with him . . . That seemed amazing. Another three more years seeing him, going through all the high school experiences, cheering him on at baseball games, it was all too dangerous. Far too dangerous.

It was dangerous because here you were, at risk of feeling something more than platonic feelings for a boy you’d known since you were eight, where you already know your feelings will never be returned.

First semester of your third year wrapped up quickly after that. With the start of your second semester, you received many offers from different schools all over the country. Your parents and sister were proud.

“That’s our girl,” your father had grinned, reaching out to ruffle your hair, much to your displeasure.

“Hey, make sure you choose a good school,” your sister said, giving you a severe look. You fixed your hair, not meeting her eyes.

“Wherever you want to go, honey, we’ll support you.” There was a heaviness in your mother’s tone, as though she didn’t want you to go far. You’d gotten an offer from the high school in this area, but you weren’t satisfied with the curriculum. Staying here would mean ending up like your sister (no offense to her, of course, since she was happy). You wanted out of Old Town Tokyo.

Miyuki had gotten a lot of offers, too. Schools everywhere wanted him as their catcher. The powerhouse schools, like Inashiro, Teito, Seido (of course), even several schools from Hokkaido. It wouldn’t be hard for him to make it as a pro. You were proud.

But he was set on Seido, and he was pressing you for your own decision, too.

“I have to start planning. It’s going to be busy when we start up,” he’d told you, trying to convince you to spill which schools had sent you offers.

“I’m still thinking,” you’d lied. “But if you really want to know, I’ve gotten one from Sakurazawa High.”

“Oh, I know them. They’ve lost in the first round of the West tournament for like, twenty consecutive years.”

You shot him a glare. “Is that all that matters?”

He chuckled, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender. “They have great academics, don’t they? But, you know . . . I’m fairly sure that Seido is equal in terms of national academic ranking . . .”

That was another thing. You knew Miyuki wouldn’t ever hold you back, just like you wouldn’t hold him back. It felt like some sort of crime to ever try and stop him from pursuing his interest in baseball and vice versa for him and your desire to be a doctor. But you knew, just like he did, that Seido was a powerhouse school in both academics and athletics. Going there wouldn’t hinder your performance nor his. Not to mention, you two would be together, right?

Except, it sounded horrible. The past few months had been stressful, because not only did you have to deal with the looks your mother was giving you about choosing a school way outside of Old Town Tokyo, but you also had to stave off the counselors who wanted your decision, along with Miyuki. Then there were your feelings for him. You weren’t sure what they were, but you knew they weren’t good. They were the type of feelings to inhibit you.

You couldn’t be a good friend to Miyuki if all you were thinking about is how much you wanted to hold his hand and have him tuck you under his arm like so many other couples did. If all you thought about was how happy he looked whenever he was talking about baseball or talking about Seido and competing for starting catcher. If all you thought about was how pretty his eyes were and how handsome he looked whenever he genuinely smiled.

You weren’t being a good friend. And you needed to fix that.

That night, you mailed the application to Mimayama. Two days later, you received your acceptance letter.

“Mimayama? That’s so cool!”

“Wow! You’re serious about being a doctor, aren’t you?”

It had meant to be a secret. You’d only wanted your family to know and no one else. You’d tell Miyuki when you had to. Preferably right before he left to Seido, or maybe when he was there already. Clearly, that had been too tall of an order.

You’d notified your counselors of your acceptance and subsequent admittance into Mimayama, much to their happiness. Apparently, no such thing as student-to-administrator confidentiality existed because your homeroom teacher found out immediately and after publicly congratulating you, a group of girls had approached you, gushing over your acceptance.

Luckily, not many people had been there yet, though a few of your other classmates had eyed you curiously. Miyuki was running late, something or another about sleeping in. You didn’t know — didn’t care, since that meant you had time to do damage control.

“Listen,” you began, trying to look as serious as possible. The girls leaned in eagerly. “Keep it to yourselves, alright? Don’t tell Miyuki or anyone else. I don’t want to start unnecessary rumors. It’d be horrible if people thought I was boasting about it.”

They nodded, agreeing immediately. “Of course! But why not tell Miyuki?”

They were looking harder at you now, more analytical, more perceptive. It reminded you too much of your mother and sister. You came up with a quick lie.

“It’s a surprise for him. I’ll be telling him later on. We’re going to different schools —” those words left a bitter taste in your mouth and a numb ache in your heart “— so I’m trying to prepare, you know?”

They soaked it up. Of course they did. Miyuki was popular with girls and they’d always wondered about your friendship with him. Saying all this to them was probably enough gossip to last for the rest of the year.

“Totally! We’ll be quiet, promise!”

You smiled at them, glancing over at the door just as Miyuki stepped into the room, looking like a total mess. The girls turned back around and began whispering to each other, sending occasional glances towards him then to you.

You ignored them in favor of watching him shuffle over to the desk in front of yours. He collapsed dramatically into his seat, laying on top of your desk instead of his own. You raised an eyebrow.

“Are you done?”

“I’m tired,” he muttered. “Exhausted.”

Now a little concerned because a tired Miyuki wasn’t a good thing (though he was absolutely adorable), you leaned forward. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

He lifted his head and you clicked your tongue at the circles underneath his eyes. His hair was messier than usual, leaving you to contemplate whether or not he’d actually brushed it. “I was finishing the application to Seido. Mailed it off this morning.”

“When was the deadline?”

“Tomorrow.”

You rubbed your forehead, exasperated. “Miyuki . . . You’re so lucky you don’t have baseball anymore.”

“Not until next year.” He yawned and you tried your best to not think that he looked so adorable all sleepy and tired. This was a bad thing. He needed his sleep. “It was worth it. Hey, Mei wants to talk to me today after school. D’you want to come along?”

You pursed your lips. Well, you still weren’t fond of Narumiya, even after he’d begrudgingly apologized to you. He was Miyuki’s friend — sort of — and you’d wanted to lead Miyuki straight to his house so he could take a nap after school. This would just have to be done before, then. “Sure, but after, we’re going back to your house and you’re taking a nap.”

He grinned lazily at you. “Thanks.”

You turned away, ignoring the burn in your cheeks. “Whatever. Try not to fall asleep in class.”

He did end up falling asleep. And of course, you covered for him despite your earlier words. You had to wonder. If these feelings weren’t there, would you have done it? You glanced at him from the corner of your eye as you two made your way to the park. (After school, you’d dropped off your bags at his house since his was closet and began towards the place that Narumiya wanted to meet up at.) He yawned again, something he’d been doing frequently today, and you decided yes, no matter your feelings, you would gladly take cover for him.

Maybe that was where the problem had started.

Miyuki had always been the best in baseball, striving to work hard and prove himself, calling for aggressive plays and focusing even if something hadn’t gone his way. Despite his tendency to laziness when it came to exams and such, he was a diligent student.

In some ways, you wanted to be like him. Charismatic and charming when it counted, quick-thinking in difficult situations. After all, that was how doctors needed to be, right? They needed to be decisive, no hesitancy in their movements. You had someone’s life laid willingly into your hands and you couldn’t disappoint.

Had this admiration planted the seeds for your feelings?

You didn’t know and you didn’t have time to think it over as you came to the park. You fell a little behind as you realized there were other boys present, all from different leagues, though you knew they were part of Narumiya’s friend group. If Miyuki noticed you partially hiding, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Well, well, what’s with the gathering of the all-stars?” he asked, announcing his presence to them, in that conniving way of his. The boys turned to him, a few curious eyes glancing over to you, but you resolutely stood silent with your arms crossed, not offering your name. Thankfully, Miyuki didn’t offer to introduce you either.

He began listing off their names and leagues (you wondered briefly how he knew that, but of course, if it was baseball, it was important). When he finished, hands still casually in his pockets, he turned to Narumiya. “Did you call them all here, Mei?”

Mei grinned. “Yeah. And you, Kazuya. If you come with me, I can form my ultimate team.”

You raised your eyebrows. Well, you were surprised at this turn of events, but it wasn’t exactly far from something Narumiya would do. Miyuki laughed, sounding surprised as well.

“I don’t really care if you’re not the catcher, but Narumiya wants you,” the one named Shirakawa said, probably trying to help Narumiya convince Miyuki but it just sounded like he was bored and would rather be somewhere else.

“Inashiro invited you, too. Right, Kazuya?”

It was strange. You’d never been the possessive or jealous type. Miyuki had his fangirls — of course — but he’d never paid attention to them. Hearing Narumiya call Miyuki by his first name made you tense. Miyuki, you could understand — he called everyone by their first name, whether it was welcomed or not and you’d been calling him by his last name for as long as you could remember, more by habit now rather than respect. He’d never asked you to call him by his first name, either, so that’s the way it’d always been.

But here was the ever-so-condescending Narumiya Mei, speaking so casually with your best friend. It made you uncomfortable, but you pushed that away. This wasn’t the time nor place.

“So, why don’t we make the ultimate team together? If we all get on the same team, we could take nationals.” That was what this was about then. Barring your brief discomfort at hearing Narumiya call Miyuki by his first name, you felt a little proud that even such a self-centered pitcher like Narumiya and the others knew how valuable of a catcher that Miyuki was.

“Inashiro’s coach has a lot of experience under his belt and they have the best equipment in Tokyo. It’s a great environment, too,” Kamiya added.

“Not to mention, you won’t have to play against Narumiya. You’re in, too. Right, Miyuki Kazuya?” Shirakawa, as much as you hated to admit it, had a point. You’d seen Narumiya pitch. He was head and shoulders above a lot of the pitchers in your year. That was probably why he was so arrogant. But the guys made it sound like Miyuki would actually be averse to going head-to-head with Narumiya, when in fact —

“I’m sorry, but I already got an invite from Seido a while ago. I can’t join you guys.” His hand came up to his neck, a sign that showed he was a little uncomfortable being cornered by so many.

“What? Are you being serious right now?”

Narumiya stood up from his crouch. “Seido, huh? They’ve only gone to nationals once since their old coach quit. Compared to what Coach Kunitomo has achieved, Coach Kataoka is just way too green.”

You shifted on your feet, turning your eyes back to Miyuki. He scratched his neck in a shifty movement. It was coming any moment now. “Well, it’s not really about that,” he began. “Inashiro’s a team with a bunch of all-stars like you guys, right? So . . . I want to face you as an opponent.”

Of course. While the others were visibly shocked, you bit back a small smile. You’d seen it coming from a mile away. Sure, Narumiya could probably prepare a team to take nationals on with Miyuki and his other friends, but Miyuki wasn’t like that. He didn’t want the easy out. He wanted to work for it. You recalled his words from first year, after his loss against that second year catcher, Chris.

“How else am I supposed to be the best?” How else, indeed. There would be no better way than to face Inashiro than on a different team, still at a powerhouse school with a competent team where Miyuki would fit right in.

“Are you stupid?”

“Oh, you’re too kind.”

“It’s not a compliment!”

“Kazuya.” Narumiya didn’t look too surprised. Well, you could give him props for trying. “I’m gonna ask you one last time —” and for being so annoyingly persistent as well.

“Sorry. No.” Miyuki didn’t sound too apologetic.

Narumiya looked a bit irritated and his eyes shifted to you. “You’ll regret it, Kazuya. Is it because of her?” He calls you out, by your first name. “Are you going to Seido as well?”

You glared at him. “I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my first name, Narumiya. And let it go.”

Shirakawa and Kamiya snorted as an affronted look passed over Narumiya’s face. “Hey, you’re always so mean to me —”

You turned your nose up, ignoring him. He didn’t know when to quit.

Most likely in an attempt to defuse the situation, Miyuki took a step back and said his goodbyes, then turned around and guided you away from the park.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he confessed when you two were a reasonable distance away from the park, well on your way back to your own neighborhood. “But it was a very Mei thing of him to try.”

“Exactly what I thought,” you agreed. “He is right, too, you know. You’d probably be able to take on nationals without any problems.” Miyuki opened his mouth to protest but you elbowed him in the ribs, continuing with a small smile. “But I know. Challenger. I get it. It’s a surprisingly level-headed decision coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” You coughed to hide your snickers at the look on his face.

His house was empty as usual, his father most likely next door in the factory working on whatever project that needed to meet its deadline soon. You’d never asked about Miyuki’s mother, but you never had to. You’d seen the picture frame of a handsome, younger Toku Miyuki and a beautiful women standing next to him, a small bundle in her arms, standing in front of the factory. It didn’t take a genius to know that his mother had probably passed when he was younger.

Upon the entrance to his room, you went to his drawer where some casual clothes of yours were kept — purely for practical reasons since he had his own clothes in your dresser, too, along with many sweaters you’d kept. When you came back from the bathroom, he was already sprawled out on his bed, changed into comfortable clothing.

You went to take a seat in his desk chair, but his tired voice stopped you. “Hey, what are you doing? Come here.”

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. You two had slept in the same bed when you were kids every now and then, but it had stopped when you’d gotten older. Well, you had gotten more aware of it every time you had shared a bed — of him right next to you. Evidently, he’d never cared because he had no problem taking a nap whenever he crashed your room.

You climbed over him so you were next to the wall. His bed wasn’t big, only a full-size, so it was enough for you two but no more than that. He stretched, yawning quietly. You hesitantly laid down next to him, facing him with a reasonable amount of space between you two. He turned to face you, blinking sleepily as his face was pressed into the pillow, probably putting the edges of his glasses into his face uncomfortably.

“You’re gonna break your glasses,” you muttered disapprovingly, reaching out to pluck them off his face. He squinted, readjusting to the absence of his glasses as you leaned over him to place them on the nightstand. You made sure that you didn’t touch his body as you did so.

He hummed quietly, drawing up the blanket to his waist. You abstained from it. He radiated enough body heat on his own, plus your internal temperatures were always high when you were in close proximity with him.

“You never said.”

His sleepy voice brought you out of your thoughts. Miyuki was clearly having a hard time staying awake, so you indulged him. “Said what?”

“Where you’re going. When we saw Mei. You didn’t deny it, but you’re not going there, are you?” His eyelids fluttered and you found yourself enraptured with the way his eyelashes just barely ghosted his cheeks. “I’m not going to be mad if you don’t, if that’s what you think.”

You tensed. He scooted closer to you. “I . . . Well, Seido’s a great school, Miyuki.”

His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes finally shutting, but he didn’t drift off. “You’re confusing.”

“What . . .?”

“I don’t want to hold you back from a good school. That’s what you deserve, especially for putting up with me this long —” your heart broke just a little at that admission. Did he think he was a burden to you? “— so I won’t be mad. Just tell me where you’re going.”

“I . . .” I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you why. I’m leaving, not because it’s a good school, but because I need to leave you. I can’t be around you. If I tell you now, I just might back out and go somewhere near you. “I’m still weighing my options, to be truthful.”

He hummed again, a sign he was still listening, so you pushed on. “I got an invitation from Oya, too, in East Tokyo. They’re a public school and they have a good academic program. If I remember correctly, they went to Nationals five years ago.”

“Not bad,” he mumbled. “Make a decision soon, though. I take it that means you’re not going to Seido, then?”

You were surprised that he was still managing to make logical conclusions despite being on the verge of unconsciousness. “Yeah, probably not. It would’ve been great to be with you, though,” you lied. It wouldn’t have been great. You would’ve suffered from your unrequited feelings, having to see him make it big in high school baseball, watching the entire nation fall in love with him.

He nodded, eyes still shut. “That’s okay. Just tell me where you’re going soon, okay.”

“I will.” Another lie. You were on a roll today, weren’t you?

He drifted off after that. You knew when he’d fallen asleep because you could feel the bed dip as he became dead weight, utterly relaxed, his breathing deep and steady. Your eyes roamed his face as you become more relaxed, finding comfort in being so close to him.

That fight had left an unnoticeable scar on his temple, usually hidden by his glasses, then the cut on his lip had healed up finely so there was no trace of it — at that point, your eyes lingered too long on his lips — and the cuts on his knuckles weren’t that noticeable either, probably something he could blame on his gloves.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as he shifted even closer to you. You had nowhere to go, your back pressed against his wall. You sighed quietly, shutting your own eyes to take a nap of your own. Whatever. These last few months were ones you had to treasure because the likelihood that you’d see him during high school was little to none. Really, the chances of him wanting to see you would probably make it even lower.

You fell asleep, weighed down by your decisions and restless for what the future might hold for your friendship with Miyuki.

(Those thoughts really didn’t bother you when you woke up lying on his chest and he had his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You were mortified, though.)

Graduation from your junior high had come and gone with no problems. You were in the top ten, sitting comfortably as number two while Miyuki sat as number ten; you weren’t surprised by his rank, by any means.

You’d avoided packing your own things, too. You would need to be in Kyoto by April 10th. They started the school year much later, for whatever reason, but it just meant that you’d be seeing Miyuki go off on March 28th, three days before the first day of school. And you’d managed to avoid telling him your final decision.

It all seemed to be catching up because the walk to the station was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Miyuki had said his goodbyes to his father and your family, your little brother strangely sad at the disappearance of his “Miyu.” (A nickname that had you rolling in laughter when he’d come up with it and always managed to make Miyuki’s face turn red.)

His train would be leaving in ten minutes. You both sat down on the bench at his platform.

“So,” Miyuki prompted. “Which is it?”

When you looked at him, his eyes were hard. He was irritated. Rightly so. You’d been dancing around your own leave for several months now and here he was, about to leave to Seido and he still didn’t know. You’d briefly contemplated allowing him to stay mad at you. Let him blow up. Perhaps it would give you the shock you needed. But he didn’t deserve that.

You sighed softly, guilt eating away at your insides. “Mimayama.”

You felt him tense up beside you as he made a strangled noise. “In Kyoto?”

You nodded, turning your eyes to the ground. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you clenched your hands into fists, ducking your head lower.

“That’s a good school.” His voice was leveled, cool and indifferent. Somehow, it hurt more than having to hear anger. “They’d be stupid not to accept you.”

You hummed softly.

He sighed shortly. “I don’t — what the hell? Why did you . . . What did you even gain from that?”

There it was. You turned back to look at him, then balked at the hurt on his face. “I . . . didn’t want to worry you.”

“You worried me more by not telling me,” he replied shortly. “That’s so far away.” Are you going to be okay?

That was more than you deserved. You’d been such a shitty friend for the past two years. Here he was, still trying to be a good friend.

You tried for a smile. “It’s not Hokkaido or anything, Miyuki. I’ll be fine. And I’m sorry . . . I just — I didn’t know. I don’t know.”

He stared at you. You met his eyes head on. You had to show him that you’d be fine. This was what you needed. You had the reckless urge to transfer back to a school here in Tokyo, if only to be close to him, but it was muted. Doing this was for the best of your friendship.

“I’m still mad.” Understandable. “And I’m leaving now. Baseball starts up immediately so I won’t have time to talk to you, especially since you’ll probably be busy with school, too. Solving this won’t be as easy as it was when we still lived here, you know.”

Would it even be solved?

“We’ll figure out a way,” you said, despite yourself. Something had changed. Your distance in your friendship had been noticeable. A child could notice. Whether it had been conscious or unconscious was up to debate. Evidently, though, it had hurt Miyuki and that was the last thing you wanted.

. . . Right?

You were moving all the way to Kyoto for the sole purpose of burying those feelings for him. Focusing on school. Rebuilding . . . Rebuilding your friendship. Right, that’d been a priority, too. But could it be done? You’d messed up.

“Well, let’s not spend our last few minutes together arguing or mad at each other.” Miyuki’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. He stood up, holding out a hand for you. You accepted, trying to imprint the feeling of his calluses and the way his palm felt against yours into your mind.

He wouldn’t give up on your friendship, though, would he?

The train pulled in, the draft carrying stray pieces of your hair, hydraulics hissing loudly as it eased to a stop. You were stunned as Miyuki pulled you in for a hug. It was tight, almost painful, but he was so warm and that sweet and spicy scent was overwhelming you in the best possible way that you couldn’t help but hug him back just as tightly.

“Don’t forget about me over there,” he murmured into your ear, warm breath tickling your sensitive skin. You suppressed a shiver.

“I-I won’t.”

He stepped away, sighing softly as the doors unlocked and popped open for the cabin in front of you. He picked up his bag. “I’ll see you later. We’ll talk.”

You nodded. He hesitated to leave, a strange look passing over his face as he fought with himself over something, but then it was gone just as quickly as it had come. He turned away and there was something foreboding about seeing him walk away from you. A cold feeling blooming in the pit of your stomach.

This wouldn’t be the last of him. You’d go to school in Kyoto, get over your feelings and rekindle your friendship with him. Things would get better. They would.

They had to.

Interlude: start

Miyuki wasn’t sure what was going on.

You’d been distant for the last few months, clearly having something on your mind and he’d waited patiently for you to come to him. But you never did.

Instead you sent him off, finally telling him where you were going. To the Kyoto Prefecture, of all places. Was he mad? Yes, and he sort of had a right to be.

He had to wonder. Had all those times he’d pestered you for your answer, had you lied to him? Applying to Mimayama and getting accepted wasn’t a last minute choice. Prestigious schools like that always had application deadlines earlier than other private and public high schools.

So, why hadn’t you told him?

It was something that plagued him for the entire train ride to Kokubunji, even when he made it to Seido High and received his dorm number.

Had you . . . figured it out?

He’d tried his best to hide his feelings and he felt that he’d been largely successful. You’d acted normally as you would and this felt like too much of a secret for you to hide if you knew. You weren’t one to hide what you were thinking, especially when it came to him. But falling in love with your best friend wasn’t normal, was it?

He couldn’t help himself. He’d never say it, but you’d stood beside him for the past six years, you were always so supportive, so patient even when he didn’t deserve it. So how could you even possibly begin to feel the same way? He wouldn’t openly admit this either, but he had more flaws than he had strengths.

Sure, he was . . . conventionally attractive and he was great at catching, but what else was there? It wasn’t like he’d be the type of guy to shower you with gifts or anything. Compared to so many other people, he wasn’t good enough.

He sighed heavily, continuing to unpack his things. His roommates were two third years but they were out, probably practicing. For once in Miyuki’s entire life, he didn’t feel the urge to practice.

Despite himself, despite wanting to give you the benefit of doubt, he wondered, had you attended Mimayama in an attempt to run away? From him?

Immediately, he felt guilty for thinking that way. Mimayama was an excellent school within itself, one you’d thrive in. He couldn’t be so selfish to assume that you’d gone there just to avoid him. You were trying to get a good curriculum. He was trying to get better in baseball. You both had your own agendas.

It wouldn’t be like you to allow your feelings to influence your decisions. Especially when it came to such an important decision.

His previous question came up again. Why wouldn’t you tell him? Were you scared he’d be mad? Or were you trying to protect yourself from something else? Did you think he’d try to convince you to stay?

His frown deepened. Well, that was a good question. Kyoto was so far away . . . If you’d stayed in Tokyo, it would’ve been easier to see you but now that you’d be all the way in Kyoto, the chances of seeing you were slim to none. You’d probably only see each other during winter break.

Regardless of that, though, he was sure he wouldn’t have tried to stop you.

Did a small (or very large if he was truthful) part of him want you to go to Seido with him? Yeah, but things don’t always work out. Friends don’t always get to stay together. Apparently, you had realized that sooner than he did and taken advantage of it.

But your reluctance to tell him was what had gotten on his nerves. He deserved an answer from you. (Right?) One that hadn’t been last minute, one where you two could discuss it. One where he could begin to make plans to see you, arrange methods to talk during the school year. But here he was, sitting on the barren side of the dorm with no real plans to see you again until December, irritated at you.

Until he had a proper answer from you on why you’d done it (because he deserved that too), he’d give you the space you needed to sort out your thoughts.

Besides, come April 10th, there would be three hundred miles between you two. Space would come easily.

Interlude: end

Things seemed to be fine for the first few months. You and Miyuki kept up moderate contact, calling and texting when you were able. There would be odd bouts of absence on his part, something he’d blamed on baseball practice and you could understand. As far as you knew, Miyuki had been able to secure the position as starting catcher with little to no problems. The way he felt about it was a different story.

“Chris . . . He injured his shoulder. He was removed from first string. I took his place.”

You pursed your lips. “That stinks. I’m sorry, Miyuki.”

Going to Seido to get that spot as starting catcher had been Miyuki’s main goal. And he’d already achieved it within three months of being there.

You knew he’d wanted to go toe-to-toe with Chris to properly fight over the spot. It probably didn’t feel too good to have it conceded to you.

“Starting catcher is starting catcher, I guess. There’s nothing I can do about it. Just have to get to Nationals and win.”

“You can do it,” you said, putting as much encouragement into your words as possible. You absently read over your textbook, waiting for his reply.

“So . . . You must have come up with a good reason for not telling me about going to Mimayama, right?”

Surprised, you dropped your pencil, his words catching you off guard. You hadn’t necessarily forgotten about his promise to figure things out between you and you were fully prepared to apologize, but explaining why was an entirely different ordeal.

You had been silent for too long, because he sighed shortly on the other line. “Come on. Did you think I’d be mad? That I’d try to stop you?”

You tried to think, tried to formulate an adequate answer. Would lying save you? Could you continue on in your friendship after lying to him about it?

“I just . . .” You were at a loss for words. You hadn’t expected him to bring this up. But of course, in classic Miyuki fashion, he would want to catch you off guard. Make sure that you wouldn’t be able to lie. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he scoffed. “It’s not that hard.”

You bristled. “Well, damn Miyuki, you said you wouldn’t have gotten mad and maybe you wouldn’t, but look at you now.”

“I have a right to be mad now,” he replied waspishly. “You lied about it for how long? How many times had I asked you? I know Mimayama has the earlier deadline for applications because it’s a private school. You made this decision and you didn’t tell me about it. I thought we told each other everything. I mean, that’s what best friends do, right?”

“Since when have you ever cared about how other friendships function? You’re only doing this because you’re mad. You’re not thinking straight.”

Miyuki laughed suddenly, in a callous manner he’d never used with you. “I’m not thinking straight? Well, we both know the answer to that,” he sneered. “Me and you are best friends just like anyone else, but now that I have a genuine problem with you lying, suddenly I’m the one who’s needlessly comparing ourselves to other people, right? I’m the wrong one here, yeah?”

“I didn’t say you were,” you disagreed. “It was just — I don’t know. I didn’t tell my family for a long time, too.”

“I get it. It’s a personal decision. But lying to me about it is where I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to!” you snapped, finding yourself fed up with his attitude. “It was . . . a personal decision, just like you said. I had to come to terms with it myself, too, you know.”

It wasn’t a lie, by any means. The day after his fight and after you’d filled out the application, you had stood by the mailbox so long, envelope in hand, the next door neighbor had come out to ask if you were okay.

“You could’ve told me that you’d made a decision. I was worried you’d end up stuck there with how much you were pushing it away. I would’ve respected your boundaries, you know.”

His voice had quieted considerably and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Did it mean he was calm now? Understanding? Or was his anger and hurt phasing him so much he couldn’t muster the energy to be loud? You hated this. You hated not being able to see his face, being able to gauge what he was feeling. Relying on his tone was getting you nowhere.

“I . . . know.” Maybe it’d been irrational, but your decision had been the one thing he hadn’t known about. You could be so weak when it came to him. If he even knew that you had made a decision, it felt like he already knew where you were going, as though he could see right through you.

You and Miyuki could read each other like the back of your hands, unwillingly or willing. You knew his ticks, his dislikes, his fears, and vice versa. Alongside your feelings, the choice to attend Mimayama had been one of the few things you’d ever kept from him.

“Then why do it? That’s all I’m asking for. That’s it. Just an explanation and we can be done here.” He sounded almost desperate. It was disconcerting. Miyuki Kazuya wasn’t desperate; he didn’t beg. He was above that. But his voice —

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling shakily. This was too much, it was all too much. You’d regret it later on, maybe, when you finally got your head back on but you couldn’t stand it right now. He couldn’t know.

Under no circumstances could he know that you were in love with him.

“I can’t do it.”

Miyuki was silent, for one, two, three seconds, then —

“I guess we’re done here.”

You tried again. “Miyuki, I — ”

The call ended abruptly as he hung up first, not even sparing you a chance to talk. You stared at your phone. Maybe that was what you deserved, though. You weren’t being the greatest of friends, but you just wished he would let it go. Why was it so important? Did it truly both him that much? Regardless of whatever it was, he wasn’t going to be letting it go anytime soon — that much was apparent.

The abrupt hang-up had hurt a lot more than you thought it would. (You certainly wouldn’t admit it out loud, though.) Miyuki wasn’t exactly the gentlest person and he could be mean, but he’d never been that way with you.

Something told you that this was only a small dose of what he could do, that he wasn’t completely shutting you out. Not yet.

You tossed your phone behind you, not minding the rough thump that came after. You dropped your head onto your textbook, sighing heavily. There was the slightest of stinging behind your eyes, but you shook it off, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. It wouldn’t do well to be crying. Dinner would only be in thirty minutes and you didn’t want to explain to your classmates why it looked like you’d been crying.

You dug into your nails into your palm, the pain relieved you from the burn in your eyes. The urge mercifully passed.

You sat back up, taking a deep breath. This would have to be dealt with later, you promised yourself, turning your eyes back to your textbook in a vain attempt to start your assignment again. All you two needed was space, some time to cool off and regain your bearings. Then, you’d solve this.

You didn’t solve it.

Baseball took up a handful of his time, so when you sent a wary text to him three weeks after your phone call, you didn’t receive a reply back. You then found out that that exact day, Seido had been at a game and had won, qualifying them for quarterfinals. Of course he wasn’t going to reply. He was probably busy basking in that afterglow of victory.

So you let it go.

But then, Seido was eliminated. You got that news from your classmates, a girl who apparently had a cousin attending the opposing school. When you’d asked, she had said proudly, “Inashiro.”

It felt like too much a cruel joke. But when you returned to your dorm and looked up the game, sure enough, Inashiro had won. The game had been four to three. Narumiya was their star — their ace. If you hadn’t had any real reason to dislike him before, you certainly had one now. You sent an apology to Miyuki, trying your best to be comforting.

His reply — albeit cold — had been relieving. Things weren’t as bad as you’d thought they were.

But then he didn’t contact you for the rest of the summer. And that was where the space between you two grew. It wasn’t only physical anymore — he’d stopped contact with you completely.

Summer passed and you descended into autumn, where temperatures dipped and the trees began to lose their leaves.

There was still no contact between you two.

You sent him the occasional message, just a random update about this or that, fooling yourself into thinking that he was just busy. The fall tournament was coming up and if they made it, they’d have a spot at the Spring Invitational. It was another chance for Nationals. But your messages stayed silent, save for the messages coming from your family.

Seido lost during the semifinals at the fall tournament; you sent him a text.

i’m sorry about the fall tournament… you guys played a really good game. text me back when you can.

Maybe he felt your desperation, somehow, through the screen and even though hundreds of miles separating you two.

You sat up abruptly as the little words underneath your message changed from Delivered to Read. You waited, your heart racing in your chest. But no message came.

You tried to rationalize. He’d just lost. Their ticket to Nationals was a pipe dream once again. He wouldn’t be up to talk immediately after, right?

It sounded foolish, even to yourself.

As though your problems with Miyuki weren’t enough, you got into an argument with your mother.

She had apparently believed that once you graduated high school, you’d come back home to work in the family bakery. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

Summer break had been an awkward affair because of it. You had envisioned summer break as time away from working and from the stress of high school, but your mother had other plans.

You were forced to be the cashier, much to your displeasure. Your father had patted your shoulder consolingly, while your older sister told you to stop complaining so much. Your younger brother — already seven-years-old — could only giggle at your predicament while he went to his friend’s house to spend the night. You were almost envious at his freedom.

You had no idea if Miyuki was back in the neighborhood since he wasn’t taking the time to answer your texts. You knew that if he had come back, he had no business to be outside of his house, either, so you decided that you would probably never know.

The fifth day of summer break started bright and early with you on the cash register. It had been slow, though, the heat of the sun discouraging people from walking out and about. The wall-length windows of the bakery did nothing to hide the sun, either, and the air conditioner was mostly focused on the table area rather than behind the counter.

The heat had started to make you sleepy but before you could actually doze off on the job and piss off your mother, the bell above the door rang, signaling a new customer. You straightened up, trying to blink the sleepiness away.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to try too hard, because the newest customer turned out to be Miyuki Toku.

“G-Good morning, sir. What can I get for you today?” Your voice was steady, thankfully.

He stared up at the menu, dark eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He was dressed in work clothing, grease staining various spots, a black baseball cap tucked over his hair. It was no wonder Miyuki himself was so handsome. His father was a handsome man for his age, the only sign of his age being the lines around his mouth and forehead, and the slightest hint of grey in dark brown hair and in his stubble.

“Two coffees and three sweet rolls,” he finally said, his eyes flickering to you.

You dropped your eyes, hurriedly ringing up his total and scribbling down the drink order to hang up for your sister to do. His eyes were the exact same shade as Miyuki’s. Of course they were, they were father and son, but it . . . made you miss Miyuki even more.

You handed back the money and grabbed some wax paper to pull out the sweet rolls from the display case of pastries. As you put them into a paper bag and folded it up neatly, he lingered near the pick-up counter. You wanted to ask him if Miyuki was back, but would that give you away? Maybe he already knew of the fight, if Miyuki had told him, but that sounded far-fetched. Miyuki wasn’t that open with his father.

You glanced around the bakery; all the customers were satisfied at the moment and nobody was waiting in line. You glanced back at Miyuki's father. He was looking over the display case with uninterested eyes. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“I-Is Miyuki back in the neighborhood?” you asked before you could lose your nerve, handing the paper bag over to him then stepping back behind the cash register, as though it could protect you from any unwanted questions.

He seemed surprised that you were speaking at him, brown eyes widening briefly before he cleared his throat. “No. He’s still at Seido. The coach keeps them for summer break.”

“Oh.”

That sucked, but knowing Miyuki, he was probably using that off-season time to get better.

“Have you been speaking to him?”

Now, you were the one surprised. When you looked back up, he was watching you with scrutinizing eyes. It reminded you so much of Miyuki that you had to avert your eyes. “Not really, sir. We’ve just,” you cleared your throat, “he’s busy. I’m busy. Our schedules don’t line up very well.”

“Mimayama, right?”

You looked back at him, furrowing your eyebrows. How did he know?

“Kazuya told me. That’s a good school,” he paused awkwardly, but before he could continue, your sister called out his order.

He picked it up and lingered in front the counter, shifting awkwardly before finally saying, “Well . . . keep in touch with him.”

You barely had time to get out a ‘have a good day.’ Did he know of your fight? There was no way that Miyuki could’ve told him, right? And if he did, then why was his father so nice? You knew Miyuki wouldn’t mince words and he probably wouldn’t hold back if he was talking about your argument.

“Hey.” You jumped as a wet towel smacked your back. “Stop looking so sad. It turns people off.”

You scowled, turning around to face your older sister with an insult on the tip of your tongue, but it died quickly at the semi-serious expression on her face. You both stared at each other for a few seconds before she slapped the wet towel onto your shoulder again.

“Loser.”

“Shut up!”

It was his birthday. He was officially sixteen-years-old.

You typed out a quick message. Maybe your conversations were beginning to be made up of your outgoing texts and nothing else from him, but you weren’t going to abandon him on his birthday. (Though, a small mocking voice in your head told you he had an entire team to spend his birthday with.)

You’d sent the text and went to put down your phone on your desk, but to your pleasant surprise, it buzzed a few seconds after, signaling a text.

It felt almost too true to be good. You unlocked your phone quickly, fumbling for the messages app. But when you clicked on his name, the message waiting for you wasn’t what you’d expected.

Error 1404. The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. For further inquiries, please contact —

Had he blocked you?

You tried again, but the message continued to pop up in reply to every text you sent.

You stopped trying, the words of the text seeming cold and callous, almost taunting.

Was he this petty? You had never believed him to be petty. Cruel, sometimes, sure, but never petty.

You tried calling. It rang two times before an automated message picked up.

“We’re sorry, but the person you are trying to reach is — ”

You hung up. This couldn’t be a coincidence. But why . . .?

You scrubbed your hands over your face roughly, feeling the familiar burn behind your eyes. Nothing was seeming to go right for you. Sure, you were at a school where you were put to work, but you were fighting with the only friend you had, with your mother about your choices for the future, with yourself over some stupid feelings.

Had it bothered him that much? Was this something to end your friendship over?

Evidently, to Miyuki, it had been.

December and January marked record-breaking lows with surprisingly heavy snowfall. You stayed on campus, burrowing in your room through the beginning of December to study hard for exams. Winter break brought you back home, where your sister had staged an intervention, surprisingly enough.

“What’s the deal with you and Miyuki?” she asked suddenly one day, when you two were in the kitchen at your home, making dinner for that night.

You continued your work, undeterred and unaffected. “What do you mean?” you asked tiredly.

She reached over to swat the back of your head, gaining a glare from you.

“Don’t glare at me, brat. You’ve been all mopey since the summer. I know something is going on,” she huffed, giving you a glare of her own.

You were prepared to shrug her off, turning to her to tell her off, but she was wearing that expression again. The one you’d seen during summer break after your run-in with Miyuki’s father. She looked serious. You hesitated.

You’d been dealing with this all on your own, with no one else to talk to. You definitely didn’t have Miyuki — not that you’d tell him about it, anyway — and certainly not your parents. Your mother would probably disapprove of your feelings since Miyuki wasn’t the type of guy to settle back down in his hometown and your father would disapprove because this was someone after your own heart.

Your sister was the next best thing.

That was how you found yourself telling her about the argument, about his lack of communication, and because you couldn’t avoid it, about your feelings for him.

She remained silent while you spoke, a pensive look on her face. When you finished, you shifted nervously on your feet, glancing at her in the corner of your eye.

“This is because of me, isn’t it?”

You blinked. “What?”

She paused from cutting up a vegetable, laying the knife down on the cooking board and turning to look at you. “What I said to you when you were in junior high. About focusing on yourself and not letting others influence your decisions.”

“I guess . . .” you murmured, agreeing reluctantly because you didn’t want her to blame herself for it. Luckily, that wasn’t what happened.

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered, grabbing the dish towel and hitting your shoulder with it. She tossed it back onto the counter before turning to you. “An absolute idiot.”

“What the hell — ”

“You played yourself, kid! I get it. These feelings are scary and new but running to Kyoto is not the answer!” she hissed urgently, looking annoyed.

Your hackles were raised. “You literally said — ”

“I know what I said, you fool! You had good intentions, but look where that got you.”

You winced. That was fair.

She groaned loudly. “Did it ever occur to you that you were letting your feelings influence your decision when you decided to go to Mimayama?”

You stared at her, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“For as smart of a kid you are, you’re kinda dumb when it comes to feelings.”

You scowled at her. “Feelings are dumb! It’s easier to memorize algebra equations than it is to handle what I’m feeling!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen to me. I understand that you thought putting distance between you two and lying to him about your choice would help, but you were blinded by your own feelings. In your desperation to forget, you made a rash decision. I know Mimayama is a good school and worrying about your education is worthwhile, but are you even happy there?”

You stilled. “Happy?”

“You’re hopeless!” she bemoaned.

“Hey, it was your advice! Don’t get mad at me,” you protested, unwilling to take all the blame for this.

She grimaced. “Fine. I’ll take half. But it’s redacted as soon as we fix this.”

You balked. “Fix this? No, there will be no fixing here. I’m going to suffer the consequences of my actions — and partially yours — for the rest of high school and that’s it.”

“You don’t even know if he feels the same,” she pointed out.

“He doesn’t,” you said firmly. “Why would he? After everything I’ve messed up on, I refuse to let him know. It’ll only make things worse.”

“It’s called taking a risk,” she muttered, finally turning back to finish chopping up the vegetables. “You won’t know if you don’t try.”

“We’re not even talking to each other anymore. I think,” you grimaced. “I think he blocked me.”

She paused mid-slice. “I’m going to murder that boy.”

“No, you will not!”

“This is better than homicide,” your sister muttered gleefully as you two watched your mother wrap up a plate of food. “So much better.”

Your mother faltered in her actions briefly, having heard your sister’s words, then resumed quickly. She was probably used to it.

Your little brother was waiting impatiently by the door, some action figure grasped in his tiny hands.

“One of you take that to the Miyuki’s. It’s a holiday gift. Dress appropriately!” With that, she left the house, your younger brother following after her, the door shutting firmly behind them.

“I’m not taking that,” you said immediately after. It’d been several days since you had told her about your problem and she hadn’t brought it up since. Maybe for good reason, too. You had time to think over what she said.

Her question about whether or not you were even happy at Mimayama was . . . conflicting, as much as you hated to admit it. What did it matter if you didn’t like it? It was a good school, one that would boost you ahead. It was giving you experience in the medical field, experience you couldn’t receive at a regular high school.

But at the same time, there were regular high school experiences that you were missing out on. Mimayama rarely had dances or anything of the sort, typically hosting an end-of-the-year banquet for the third years to congratulate them on their progress, but that was the extent of their dances. They had no sports programs, save for a volleyball team that was in sore need of motivated players and a better coach. All the students were always so competitive, constantly fighting for the top rank, making passive aggressive comments about grades. It was tiring.

It also made you think. Had Mimayama been the best choice?

“You don’t even know if he’s back,” she countered, drawing you out of your revere. “Pretty sure all the sports teams had one week less of winter break than regular students.”

“I don’t care. I’m not — ”

You stopped as you heard voices outside. It was your mother, very distantly. She was saying something, but the words were muffled by the door.

Your sister pushed you away to go towards the front window that overlooked the yard, peeking through the curtains. She gasped, making you take a wary step forward, but before you could ask her, she was turning around, grabbing your wrist and dragging you upstairs. You allowed her, figuring it was a lost cause to try and stop her.

“What’s going on?” you grumbled. She turned into your parents’ room, yanking you over to the window that overlooked the street.

You both kneeled on the ground under the window and she pointed up at it, grinning.

“He’s here,” she said in a sing-song voice that made you want to cover your ears.

You cautiously looked out the window, at first finding nothing to look at, but then your eyes latched onto the figure currently taking his bags out of a taxi’s trunk. Your heart kickstarted in your chest. Miyuki.

It was a bit far away, but you could recognize him anywhere. He looked taller, lean with muscles he didn’t have before. His skin looked tanner, too, no doubt from all the time he’d have spent in the sun. He was dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, looking far too good for someone who probably just threw that on without giving it any thought.

You dug your nails into the windowsill. A small, childish part of you wanted to run downstairs and out the door to tackle him into a hug. You were craving the feeling of his arms around you and feel his usual tight, almost vice-like, grip. You bit down on your lip.

“You look like a love-struck fool,” your sister whispered, sounding awed. You shoved her, making her wobble precariously from her crouch, then fall over, hitting the ground with a loud thump.

You continued to stare out the window, and you were grateful for your hyper-fixation on him, because you were able to catch the slight movement of him turning his head towards your house. You fell away from the window, the curtains fluttering back to their place.

“What?” your sister grumbled, rubbing her elbow. “That hurt, you know.”

“I don’t care,” you muttered. “He looked. If he saw me, I’m going to die.”

She scoffed. “Don’t be so dramatic.” She laid down on her side, propping up her cheek with her hand, shooting you a cheeky grin. “So? You wanna give them the food, now?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? Why not?”

You shot her an irritated side glance. “Seeing him doesn’t make me want to ‘try things out,’ as you say. What part of ‘we’re not talking anymore’ do you not understand?”

She scowled. “So, you’re giving up?”

You looked away. “I guess so.”

It was silent for a few seconds before she huffed quietly. “Well, I’m not. Stay here. I’m gonna give them the food. When you hear the door close, look out the window, but stay hidden.”

You stared at her as she got to her feet and left the room. This . . . couldn’t be good.

Nonetheless, when you heard the door shut from downstairs, you peeked out the window again. You caught sight of her walking down the sidewalk, her jacket and beanie on to fight against the freezing cold, the dish cradled in her arms. At that point, the taxi was gone and you suspected Miyuki had retreated into the warmth of his home.

When she walked up to the house and rang the doorbell, she sent a furtive glance to you, making brief eye contact before turning back forward. The door opened and she looked surprised for a split-second before schooling her expression into one of ease. You squinted, trying to make out who she was talking to.

She took a half-step back and you finally saw that it was Miyuki who’d answered the door; he leaned out of the house, nodding and saying a few things before accepting the dish with a gracious bow. Your sister returned it and turned around, walking back towards the house.

You dropped away from the window, making sure to fix the curtains carefully this time, then dashed out of the room and down the stairs. You didn’t have to wait more than thirty seconds before she was entering the house again, letting in a burst of icy air. Once she had locked the door and began taking off her shoes, jacket and beanie, you cleared your throat.

“Well?”

She looked at you, grim, and you prepared yourself for bad news, but then she said, “He’s cuter than I remember him being.”

“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

She shrugged. “You two would be cute together. His looks cancel out any ugliness you have.”

“Again. That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

She sighed. “What do you want to hear, kid? I don’t know . . . He seems more mature now. Are you two really fighting about this as bad as you say?”

You glared at her, irritated that she was doubting your words just because he seemed ‘more mature.’ “I have no reason to lie. It’s not like you’ve ever liked him that much, anyway.”

“That’s true,” she murmured. “But he made you happy, so that was all that mattered to me. He’s not doing that for you anymore.”

You toed the edge of the carpet with your foot, avoiding her eyes.

“If you’re truly incessant on not making up with him, then find something that makes you happy,” she continued. When you glanced at her, she looked serious again. You decided you didn’t like that look on her face. She coughed.

“If not, I refuse to see your mopey face around here.”

“Comfort me or insult me! Pick one, dammit!”

As much as you hated to admit it, your sister had a point.

So when you returned to school, you tried to find something that made you happy. Either an end goal, or even another friend.

You found that continuously telling yourself to find something made things a little bit better. You didn’t think about the absence Miyuki had left you. You thought about ways to raise your grade or make the other kids mad about your success.

You even found a friend — a quiet girl in your class who was pretty low in the class rank named Arakawa Akemi. You didn’t care about the rank stuff too much. (Only when it could be used to make your snobby classmates angry.) If anything, had she been in a regular high school, she probably would’ve been top of the class.

So, your first year ended with a secure friendship and excellent grades. Your relationship with your mother had gotten better, mostly because of the shining commentary that all your teachers had about you and your behavior during the afterparty of the third years’ graduation ceremony, where students, families and parents mingled. Your sister was annoying as ever — though a bit proud — and your brother was merely happy about seeing you again.

You knew, when your second year started up in full force, that your friendship with Miyuki was gone at this point. He hadn’t seen you at all during winter break and didn’t make an attempt to contact you at all. You hardly ever saw his father, so you couldn’t ask him about it, either.

You were sad at this realization. Almost seven years of friendship flushed down the drain. And the worst part was that your feelings hadn’t even faded with that.

After the Spring Invitational, Miyuki had gotten . . . famous. He was known nationally, media calling him the ‘catcher of his generation.’ Known for his aggressive plays, people loved him. When you’d seen the magazine with an article about him in it, you were proud.

Despite his lack of communication, you were still proud that he was doing what he loved. And he was good at it. You could never be angry about him doing well in what he loved.

When you’d seen his picture in the magazine, your heart still beat like crazy and your stomach still did flips. You hated it.

Even without almost a year of no contact, you were still infatuated with him.

You found yourself busier than you’d anticipated when second year started up again. You were required to put in volunteer hours at a hospital, so you’d found yourself preoccupied not only with homework, but work from the hospital as well.

The busy schedule was good; it helped you keep your mind off things, especially when the Summer Tournament started up and Seido blazed through the first rounds, then qualified for the quarterfinals. They were constantly making news articles, something or another about their new first year pitchers that were blowing competition away; usually those articles had companion editorials about Miyuki and how quickly he was improving. You tended to stay away from those.

You felt guilty for avoiding the games as much as you did, but at that point, there was no real need for you to keep up. It wasn’t like Miyuki would be calling you afterward to ask for your opinion on it.

The way you saw it was that if there was no Miyuki, then there was no need for baseball, either.

Unfortunately for you, however, your classmates happened to be avid baseball fans, so when you came to class the Monday after the weekend of the finals, you weren’t surprised to hear them talking about it.

“ . . . what messed up their game.”

“Yeah, after that deadball, there was no way they were getting their momentum back.”

“It’s all that first year pitcher’s fault. Sawamura, right? If he hasn’t fallen apart, maybe they would’ve been able to continue.”

You listened curiously, only brought out by a nudge to the arm. Akemi was giving you serious side-eye. “You could look it up, you know, or even ask,” she murmured.

“Look what up?”

She elbowed you again.

You sighed, leaning forward to tap on the shoulder of your classmate sitting in front of you. He turned around, his eyes widening at seeing you interact with him.

You gave him a polite smile. “Are you guys talking about the finals of the summer tournament for West Tokyo?”

“Yeah. Between Seido and Inashiro.”

You sat up straighter. You hadn’t realized that it’d be between them, but of course, it made sense for them to be the finalists. Two of the three baseball powerhouses in West Tokyo.

A queasy feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach, but you pushed on.

“Who won?”

“Inashiro. Their ace, Narumiya Mei, was a complete monster but honestly that first year pitcher — Furuya, right? — was insane . . .”

You sat back, staring at the plastic of your table. Akemi hummed softly and leaned to show you her phone. It was an article, presumably on the game. You read the headline.

Seido loses to Inashiro by 4-5

The article was detailed, filled with baseball jargon that you didn’t bother trying to decipher. You latched onto a few pieces of important information; Seido batters unable to get a hit off Narumiya for the majority of the game, the deadball by that first year pitcher Sawamura Eijun in the bottom of the ninth inning and Seido’s ultimate loss. You sighed heavily.

“Great.”

Akemi shut off her phone, watching you carefully. “That’s it?” she asked quietly.

You’d told her about everything that had happened between you and Miyuki. Mostly as a precursory warning that apparently, you could be dumb when it came to your friendships; you’d try to be better with her, but fair warning and all that. Though, you had to give credit to yourself, since your errors were really because of your feelings and while Akemi was pretty and very kind to boot, Miyuki still held your heart.

But that was it.

You shrugged, pointedly looking away from her. “What am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can talk to him anymore.”

Akemi said nothing else on the matter, looking forward when the teacher entered and started up class. And you didn’t bring it up again, either. But you still had to sit through the excited murmurs of your classmates, biting down the urge to defend Seido whenever someone would badmouth the team for whatever reason. (At that point, you were irritated with yourself. You didn’t even know anyone on the team except for Miyuki. Why should you feel the need to defend them?)

The majority of summer break — wherein you stayed at school for extra classes — was filled with talk of Nationals, mostly about Inashiro blowing through the rounds until the finals, where they ended up as runner-up. For the half of the last week of break, you headed back to Tokyo, where you visited your family and managed to avoid working in the bakery under the guise of needing to study (which you actually did need to do).

You knew Miyuki wouldn’t have been back, probably training with the rest of his teammates. When you passed his house on your way to another café to study at (since you’d probably be roped into doing some form of work if you went to your own), you pointedly avoided looking at his home and the factory.

It was time for you to move on.

Despite your best efforts to hide behind the menu, Narumiya’s face lit up upon recognizing you.

He grinned brightly; there was less baby fat on his face than you remember. He looked taller, too, adding to his maturity.

He calls you out — by your surname, thankfully. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle if he called you by your first name. You’d probably walk straight out of the café . . .

“It’s so good to see you! How are you?”

You sunk in your chair as other customers glanced at you, irritated. Narumiya was unbothered by their glares, taking a seat across from you even though you hadn’t invited him to do so. He was just as annoying now as he’d been two years ago.

“I didn’t say you could sit down,” you said, annoyed.

“We need to catch up!”

“We don’t.”

He grinned. “Have you gotten meaner over the last few years?”

Your grip tightened on the menu briefly, but you took a deep breath, turning your eyes back to its contents. You would ignore him for however long you needed. He would get the message sooner or later.

“Are you meeting Kazuya here? I’ll wait with you. Maybe he and I can catch up, too.”

“No,” you replied stiffly. “I’m here to study in some peace and quiet.”

You looked at Narumiya over the top of the menu, then glanced pointedly at your bag sitting in the third seat between you two. He followed your gaze and made a small noise of dissatisfaction.

“How boring. Do you keep up with him?”

You studiously ignored him, turning the page of the menu.

“Is that a no, then?”

You continued to ignore him.

He huffed petulantly. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re still mad about what I said? I was some annoying first year brat in junior high. I’ve changed.”

You looked over the menu again, eyebrow raised in doubt.

“I have!” he protested.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Can you please leave now? I need to study.”

“Study for what?” he frowned, then. “What school do you go to? Shouldn’t you be on break?”

“You’re asking too many questions.”

“Then sate my curiosity and answer them!”

You huffed this time, finally surrendering to your fate. “Fine. I’m going to Mimayama right now and I took extra class over summer break. We always have homework.”

“Mimayama, huh?” Narumiya looked at you closely. “All the way in Kyoto?”

“Yes.” You turned back to the menu, but your head was beginning to ache from switching between squinting to read the small text and looking up to Narumiya. Or maybe that was just Narumiya . . .

“Is that why you and Kazuya haven’t been talking?”

“I didn’t say anything about that,” you said, feeling a frown form on your lips. “It’s none of your business, anyway.”

“Come on! When’s the next time we’re gonna see each other?”

“Never, hopefully.”

He pouted. “You don’t mean that. Come on! Tell me about it. Who would I even tell?”

“Your friends. Your sisters. Miyuki.”

Narumiya laughed, but it sounded forced. “As if I still talk to him too.”

You looked at him this time and he had a bitter smile on his lips. He suddenly looked tired — worn out. You couldn’t imagine from what, though.

His smile tightened. “You’re not the only one with problems.”

You pursed your lips. “Evidently. If you listen, I’ll listen too.”

He frowned, looking away, clearly not liking the prospect of airing out his vulnerabilities.

“It’s a fair exchange,” you added before he could refuse. “And I’m the last person to judge, if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t judge even you, Narumiya.”

He grumbled. “At least call me Mei.”

You did your best to offer advice but he waved you off.

“I’m doing it because it was fair and I needed to vent. Don’t worry about me. I’ll deal with it.”

You eyed him disbelievingly. “I have no problem helping you, either . . .”

Another lazy wave of the hand. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. I’m fine. Now, what’s the deal with you and Kazuya?”

Mei leaned forward, unabashedly stealing a fry from your plate. You two had ordered your meals before Mei dove into his problems concerning pitching, the team, and the first year catcher he had to deal with now.

You listened intently, finding yourself sympathizing with him, much to your own surprise. You knew, rationally, Mei had his own problems — of course, he was only human — but for him to be this open, you appreciated it. It made you feel at ease. Maybe Mei wasn’t as bad as you’d painted him to be.

You pushed your plate to him, appetite having disappeared, but he pushed it back toward you, pointing at the food with an intense expression on his face. “Eat.”

“I can’t talk and eat at the same time,” you pointed out.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing you with narrowed eyes. “You can take breaks and eat.”

“Is the famous Narumiya Mei worried about me?”

“Never mind, you can starve!”

You smiled slightly and launched in your story, punctuated with breaks to eat or drink some water. Mei listened to all that you had to say, only interrupting to ask a question to prompt more details. He didn’t seem to judge, but you couldn’t tell for sure; his facial expression stayed composed throughout your talk.

When you finished, you found yourself suddenly conscious of his eyes on you. You squirmed a little in your seat, poking tentatively at the cold fries on your plate. You looked back up when he sighed, slouching in his seat.

“We both can’t catch a break, can we?”

You snorted. “No kidding.”

“If it makes you feel any better, if I was in your place, I might’ve done the same thing. I mean it’s not the right choice, but solidarity or whatever.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, evading your glare. “It’s fine. We can actually do something about your problem.”

“You know, we can also do something for you too — ”

He waved you off. “I’ll deal with it eventually. But you . . . We can do something here.”

You didn’t like the look on his face, the conspiratorial smile on his lips beginning to grow as you shook your head. “N-No, definitely not. Besides, why would you want to help me? I’ve been pretty mean to you these past years . . .”

Mei shrugged. “That’s how most of my friendships start.”

You sighed. “Regardless, I’m not — we’re not doing anything about it. I just told you to vent. We’re finished with that.”

“You’re giving up, then?” he asked, unintentionally echoing your sister’s question from last year.

“I . . .” You frowned. “If it’ll save me the heartbreak, then I guess so. He’s not even — not even talking to me, Mei. His message is loud and clear.”

“Well, he’s dumb. You and I both know that. Why should you listen to him? You have to try.”

“I can’t.”

“You don’t want to,” he corrected. “What do you have to lose? Your friendship is already in shambles, you’re going to school all the way in Kyoto so you won’t have to see him if it goes rotten and it’s not like you two live that close. Maybe telling him will fix things.”

“And what if it makes it worse?” you asked sharply. “I’d rather we leave it like this.”

“Assuming for one moment that he doesn’t feel the same — ”

“He doesn’t.”

Mei ignored you. “ — then telling him will yield the same ending to your friendship as it did before. Except now it’ll be official. It’s a better way to break things off, anyway.”

“I have no business to mess his life up like that,” you said stubbornly.

“You want to reconcile, don’t you?” He suddenly asked, scrutinizing you.

“What?”

“Reconcile with Kazuya. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But it’s not that easy. He’s going to want an explanation and he can be cruel. He’d probably make you choose between him and not explaining.”

You avoided Mei’s eyes. He was right. Miyuki wouldn’t accept you with open arms. He’d be affronted and demand an explanation. Rightfully so.

“So, what? I don’t tell him and we break things off or I do tell him and my feelings aren’t reciprocated so he breaks things off all the same to save us from the awkwardness?”

“Or you somehow manage to reconcile but still keep it to yourself. It’s unlikely, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if this bothered Miyuki. You’d probably do him a favor if you told him,” Mei finished, lacing his fingers together on the table.

“A favor,” you snorted disbelievingly.

“Now,” Mei continued, ignoring your tone, “let’s say he does have feelings for you. Which he does. Honestly, did you see the way he’d look at you when we were in junior high? It was gross.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mei rolled his eyes. “Because you’re just that unattractive or what?”

You shifted, uncomfortable. “I don’t deserve him.”

“Shut up.”

You blanched. “You — ”

“You and Kazuya are perfect for each other. That sounds like something he’d say about you, too. I’m not here to listen to you depreciate yourself. I’m here to help.”

You softened as he aimed a displeased frown at you. “Thanks, Mei,” you said, truly meaning it.

“You’re welcome. I’m great, aren’t I?” he preened, a happy grin replacing the frown. “Now, assuming he liked you — which he does — he’d want to know if you felt the same. So, telling him maximizes the possibility of reconciling your friendship. Plus, maybe you get a boyfriend out of it, too.”

“Boyfriend!”

“Obviously. That tends to be what happens when two people like each other.”

“Don’t get sarcastic with me, Narumiya Mei!”

Mei’s words left a significant mark on you.

You left the cafe thinking over the possibilities (sparing no thought to the homework that hadn’t been completed). But the thought of confessing seemed . . . strange. Could you be so forward to actually go after Miyuki and tell him? He’d probably avoid you as much as he could.

You weren’t looking to make a fool out of yourself, either, so you certainly didn’t want to try going to Seido. Going to his house and cornering him there seemed to be your best option, but the next break where he’d be home was Christmas and that was four months away. That was okay; there was plenty of time to work things out.

But it also gave you time to back out.

You chose not to discuss this with Akemi, knowing she’d encourage you to tell him as well. For now, you just wanted to make your own decision without outside influences (excluding Mei since you’d made the unfortunate decision of giving him your LINE account).

The rest of August was split between school, Akemi, Mei and your deliberations. Mei constantly kept you updated on the start of the fall tournament, finding every chance to talk about Miyuki — which led to Mei’s usual declaration of taking Nationals next summer. You continued to mull over the decision of telling Miyuki, always finding yourself becoming anxious at the notion of facing him again.

At the same time, you missed Miyuki. If things didn’t go well, at least you’d spoken to him one last time.

It was a decision that demanded great thought. No one was going to have a part in influencing your choice (not even Mei). You couldn’t half-ass it or do it on the fly. You needed to have some organization when it came to deciding.

The call was what threw your entire plan off its axis.

You’d been in the middle of composing a text to Mei, demanding to hang out since he’d seemingly dropped off the face of the earth following Inashiro’s loss to Ugumori. You knew it had to do with those problems he’d told you about in August and you weren’t going to let him deal with it alone.

It was almost funny how much your friendship with Mei had grown in such a short time. While he could be unruly, irritating and arrogant, he seemed to have a softer side when it came to you, toning down his need to get a rise out of someone. It reminded you of Miyuki, but you shelved that thought quickly. It was a comparison that had no reason to exist.

Dutifully ignoring the review for your English class on your desk, you’d been in the middle of typing out a word when your screen changed from the conversation between you and Mei to the call screen. You eyed the number warily. It was from Tokyo, but it wasn’t one you recognized. Your thumb hovered over the decline button but you huffed and answered it. If it was a telemarketer, you could nip them in the bud right now before they got the idea to call you back.

“Hello?”

“Er, is this — ?” The voice on the other line proceeded to give out your full name.

“Yes, this is. May I ask who I’m speaking to?”

“Uh . . .” Another person on the other end said something, but it was too quick for you to grab onto. “I know that, Zono! Shut up!”

Your frown deepened. “I’m . . . hanging up now.”

You went to pull away but the guy spoke again, hurriedly. “No, no, hold on! My name is Kuramochi Yoichi, I’m the shortstop for Seido’s baseball team.”

What the hell was a player from Seido doing you? You glanced at the calendar mounted in front of you, finding the words Seido vs. Yakushi final @ 1 marked down for today. So, the game must’ve been over then. Didn’t these boys have better things to be doing right now?

“How’d you get my number? And what’s the reason for calling me?” you asked, trying to sound as polite as possible. You were a bit irritated, though.

“You know Miyuki, right? Miyuki Kazuya?”

“Unfortunately.”

Kuramochi coughed, though it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Right. Well, he sort of mentioned you today, before we went to the hospital, so I figured I should give you a call — ”

“Hospital?” you interrupted sharply. “Why are you going to a hospital? Did something happen? Was he injured?”

“Eh, he was but it’s not too serious. I think. So, yeah, he said to not call you otherwise you’d ‘kick his ass for getting hurt’ so I thought why not? Let him suffer a little bit for trying to hide his injury.” Kuramochi sounded nonchalant about the entire thing, so maybe it was okay, but you were still confused.

“Explain.”

“He was tackled at the plate by a pitcher from Seiko High in our semifinals and trust me, he wouldn’t have said anything unless someone else had noticed. I’m not sure if anyone else noticed, but if they did, they didn’t say anything. I told him . . . Well, I told him not to fall apart until after we’d won,” Kuramochi admitted sheepishly. You pursed your lips in disapproval.

“If he showed any sign of bringing the team down, I’d tell the coach but he didn’t for the most part. Unfortunately, another one our teammates noticed and brought everyone’s attention to it so the coach knew by the middle of the game.”

“Did he continue to play? Or was he benched?”

“No, he played the entire game. Miyuki’s our cleanup, too, so it wasn’t a bad move — ”

“Are you discounting the fact that he struck out a few times?” the other guy on the other end of the line asked.

“Shut it,” Kuramochi snapped. “It was better for our team morale, too. That bastard is aggressive. We might not have won if he’d been benched.” Then he coughed, seeming to suddenly realize that he’d called Miyuki a bastard with you listening. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered tiredly, rubbing your temples to stave off the incoming headache. “So, what? He was taken to the hospital?”

“Yeah. We got here like fifteen minutes ago. He was . . . pretty out of it. Probably from the pain. We’re waiting for him right now. But, uh, I guess I called to see if you’d like to come and see him. Don’t worry about his father, I know someone else took care of that already.”

“Where are you guys?” you asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

“Tokyo General.”

“And how did you get my number again?”

“Miyuki’s phone.”

Kuramochi must’ve copied the number from Miyuki’s and into his own. You were surprised that Miyuki had even kept it. You sighed heavily, turning back to the conversation. “You do realize we don’t even talk anymore, right? Has he even told you about me?”

Kuramochi was silent for a few seconds. “Not really, but he’s always closed off. I did notice the lack of conversation for you on his messages, though. I don’t know, I just thought I’d tell you. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to see him, but as soon as we get his room number, I’ll text you from this number.”

“That sounds fine. Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem. Sorry for bothering you, though.” He hung up quickly before you could reply. You dropped your hand holding the phone into your lap, staring at the calendar. You had two finals this coming Monday and you needed to study. But was this your chance?

The way that Kuramochi has phrased it . . . It sounded like Miyuki was joking about it. In his pain-induced haze, had he forgotten about the ruins of your friendship and joked about you? Or was he conscious about what he’d been saying?

It was all so confusing.

You gritted your teeth at the oncoming headache and stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. You packed up your notebooks that you needed for studying, grabbing your wallet as well. A quick search told you that the next train to downtown Tokyo would leave in thirty minutes. You bought your ticket, sending a silent mental apology to your father who’d see the purchase and probably freak out.

The dormitory wasn’t too lively, meaning you could make your escape unnoticed. You notified the resident assistant of your leave — one of the teachers for your year — and she let you off without much problems, only stressing for you to be back before curfew tomorrow. After boarding the train with no problems and sending Akemi a message about your impromptu leave, you dove into your studies but found that you couldn’t concentrate. You had too many worries, too many thoughts.

This was going to go very well or very horribly.

After the three-hour train ride from Kyoto to Tokyo, you arrived at the hospital at six. You had met Kuramochi in the lobby of the hospital and he led you to the in-patient wing.

Kuramochi was an interesting individual. He was stiff, overly-polite in a way that said he was trying too hard. He probably felt uncomfortable actually seeing you in person.

“Does he have to stay overnight?” You asked, fingers tightening over the strap of your bag. When studying had escaped you, you obsessed over what sort of injury he could have. Was it sprained ribs? Had he torn a muscle? Or was this worse?

“Eh, only one night. He kicked up a fuss about it but we pointed out that he’d fainted from the pain. Better safe than sorry,” he explained as you two stepped into the elevator. He pressed the button for the second floor.

You looked at him sharply. “He fainted?”

Kuramochi grimaced and nodded. “Like I said, he was pretty out of it. He’s fine now. Conscious and all that.”

“What about his father?”

Kuramochi reached up to scratch the back of his neck. “Said he’d come tomorrow.”

You sighed softly. Yeah, that sounded like him.

There was a soft ding as the doors slid open, Kuramochi stepping out and briskly leading the way. His cleats were loud against the tiled floor, disturbing the quiet environment of the second floor. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

You made it to a room but just as he’d lifted a hand to pull the door knob, you stopped him.

“Wait.”

He looked questioningly at you, his hand paused in the air. “What?”

“I don’t think this was a good idea . . .” You fidgeted with the strap of your bag, swallowing thickly. Your heart was beating like a drum in your chest and you had the ridiculous thought that everybody could hear how loudly it was beating.

Kuramochi scanned your face and he became serious, seeming to sense that you were genuinely doubting yourself.

“Whatever happened between you two,” he said, hushed. “It’s fine.”

“It was my fault,” you mumbled. “Why we stopped talking.”

“Somehow, I doubt that. But I don’t know your story. Listen,” you looked at him, finding him meet your eyes earnestly. “Now is the best time to fix it. Whether it goes well or not, I don’t know. But at least you tried, right?”

What do you have to lose?

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “You’re right.”

“You look like you’re about to throw up.”

“Thanks.”

Kuramochi stared at you, then nodded to himself, as though he’d just realized something. “It makes sense now,” he mumbled under his breath, making you frown.

“What — ”

He opened the door before you could ask what he’d meant and you instinctively jumped behind him as several voices floated out of the room.

“Ah, Kuramochi. Is everything okay?” a woman asked.

“Yeah. Just had to pick up one of Miyuki’s visitors,” he replied, staying in the doorway, probably sensing you hiding behind him.

“Is it — ?” another voice asked, sounding like the one you’d heard on the phone.

Kuramochi didn’t respond, simply stepping into the room, leaving you standing in the doorway for everyone to see.

There was only another guy your age in there and he looked utterly panicked at your presence. There was an intimidating man as well, dressed in the Seido baseball uniform — the coach presumably — and then a woman standing next to him, dressed in formal clothes. You turned your eyes to the hospital bed, but instead of meeting those familiar brown eyes, you were met with his bowed head, his eyes averted to his legs. You noticed his clenched fists on his lap and felt your heart drop to your stomach. He was angry.

You bit your lip then bowed to the two adults, introducing yourself, “I’m an . . . old friend.”

The two adults looked at Miyuki for confirmation. The air was uncomfortably tense. You saw him sigh minutely before he nodded.

With his confirmation that you weren’t some stranger trying to sneak in, they introduced themselves as the coach and scout of Seido; the other guy introduced himself as the Zono you’d heard from the phone before. You accepted them politely, but a stifling silence ensued afterward.

You snuck glances at Miyuki in the corner of your eye. He had raised his head, but his eyes remained on the white wall in front of him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, we should head out, then. Miyuki, will you be okay here?” Takashima asked, turning to look at him.

“I’m fine.”

His voice had dropped since junior high, but he still sounded the same. Just like the Miyuki you once knew. Except he sounded tired. You felt guilt bubble in the pit of your stomach, knowing you were probably going to stress him about more.

One by one, they all exited the room. Kuramochi had hissed something to Miyuki before he left, sending you a nod of solitude. When the door finally shut, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. You shifted on your feet awkwardly. The silence was absolutely unnerving. You briefly considered just fleeing and never coming back, but that would be too cruel. Why should you show up abruptly then leave just as suddenly?

Yet, Miyuki still hadn’t spoken.

You took a deep breath, ignoring the racing of your heart, preparing to say something — anything.

Miyuki beat you to it. “Why are you here?”

Hurt pierced your heart. You faltered at the cold tone in his voice, the apathy, the indifference. Miyuki raised his head to look at you and any remnants of a response flew out of your head. He had matured, baby fat disappearing from his face and leaving someone else behind. Miyuki had grown into his looks. Those familiar brown eyes that had often glowed with mirth were hard, almost unrecognizable, burning into you with searing intensity.

You fidgeted with the strap of your bag, dropping your eyes to the floor. “Kuramochi called me. Said you were here so I — ”

“You thought you could come and visit like we were ‘old friends?’” Miyuki finished for you callously.

You dropped your head, trying not to let his words affect you. He was angry and Miyuki never spared his words much thought when he was angry. You certainly deserved his ire, anyhow. You’d been such a shitty friend.

You took a deep breath. “Not really. I know I haven’t been a good friend to you. I just thought . . . I don’t know. I thought you deserved to finally hear an explanation from me, but like I said before, it . . . might not be something you want to hear.”

Miyuki didn’t say anything else, turning to look at the window. You took that as your cue to continue, dragging a chair over to his bedside. You managed a reasonable distance away from the bed, dropping your bag onto the floor with a sigh.

“It’s taken far too long for me to explain myself. I understand if, even if you know, you’ll want to go our separate ways, though my explanation sort of ensures that you probably won’t want to talk to me, anyways.” You glanced up at him and he was still looking out the window, but his eyebrows were furrowed now. He was troubled.

You pushed on, dropping your eyes to your lap. “My reasons weren’t entirely for educational purposes, but I think you’ve picked up on that already, right? It was . . . Well, it was partially because of my sister’s advice, I guess. She didn’t say to leave because of you or anything, just that I had to prioritize my education when it came to picking a high school.”

You’d raised your eyes to his face and saw him raise his shoulders, the furrow of his eyebrows deepening in a way that told you he was ready to protest. You continued speaking before he could. “Seido is a great school. Looking back on it now, it probably would’ve benefitted me as much as Mimayama has. Plus,” you dropped your eyes back to your lap. “You would’ve been there, too.”

“What’s your point?”

You flinched at the sharpness of his voice. It cut deeply, making you feel small and insignificant. Still, you ventured further.

“That was the problem,” you mumbled. “You’d be there and I’d be with you. She — my sister — said not to let my feelings influence my decision. At this point, I’ve clearly missed the mark that she was aiming for. I just,” you paused, leaning forward to brace your elbows on your knees, rubbing your forehead tiredly. Your heart felt like it was going to break free from your ribs.

“I wanted to go to Seido with you. But if I did, I would’ve picked that school because I was in love with you. So, I went to Mimayama because I thought that by leaving, I could get rid of these feelings and we could continue to be friends.”

Finally saying it felt so relieving, like the pressure on your chest had lifted and you could breathe freely. The constraints of your secret were gone. But that left you to deal with the aftermath.

You didn’t raise your head as the silence seemed to echo, broken only by the occasional voice outside the room and the ticking of the clock. Miyuki still hadn’t said anything.

Your liberation ended with the cold revelation that no, he didn’t feel the same and you’d ruined your friendship permanently.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling a few tears slid down your cheek. You rubbed them away roughly, though fresh ones replaced them immediately. Your chest and throat felt constricted, making breathing steadily a little difficult. You heard the sheets rustle as he moved.

“Why are you crying?” Did your ears betray you or had his voice softened? He still sounded tired as hell, but he didn’t sound irritated. If anything, his tone was almost exasperated.

You brushed away the fresh set of tears but they just kept coming. Was this two years of pent-up frustration coming to the surface? Or was it because of the imminent end of your friendship?

“I just ruined my friendship,” you muttered, sniffling. It didn’t look like your tears would be stopping anytime soon, so you decided to save yourself the embarrassment; you stood up then grabbed your bag and stood up quickly, covering your face with your arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — ”

“Wait,” he called quickly. You stepped back as you heard the hospital bed creak then a soft ‘fuck’ reached your ears, making you drop your arm away from your eyes.

Your eyes widened once you saw he had sat up and shifted, moving to stand up in front of you. “Don’t get up, you’ll hurt yourself more!” You put a hand on his shoulder, trying pushing him down, but it was all in vain. The strength he had gained over the years — and more recently as the cleanup for Seido — was no match for your own. He stood up and you found yourself trapped with him in the space between the chair and the bed.

You froze. With this proximity, you could lean your forehead on his chest; in fact, you could almost feel the warmth he radiated. You dropped your eyes immediately. Funnily enough, your tears were quickly drying with this new distraction.

Miyuki pried your fingers off his shoulder and your heart fell to your stomach, but instead of dropping your hand, he clasped your hand between his own. His grip was tight and unyielding. The message was clear. You weren’t going anywhere.

(And to be completely honest, you didn’t want to be anywhere else.)

You saw his chest lift and fall as he sighed, the warm air brushing over the crown of your head, tickling stray pieces of flyaway hair. There were too many things going on at once. You felt the coarseness of his palms against your hand, callouses rubbing against the skin roughly, the distinct scent of a generic detergent brand printed on the cotton t-shirt he was wearing. But it was all so Miyuki that you couldn’t complain.

Being this close, hearing his steady breathing, he was here. That familiar comfort you’d always found with him was slowly returning and that was dangerous. You didn’t even know if he still wanted to be your friend. But maybe . . .

“You’re right,” he finally said.

“About what?”

“About ruining our friendship.”

You flinched, taking a step back and running into the chair. It scraped loudly against the floor. Well, then. At least that had been solved, right? You felt the tears that had dried begin to well up again, the hurt piercing your heart like a knife once more. You tried to pull your hand away but he was too strong for you.

“Miyuki — ”

“I don’t want to be your friend if you feel like that.”

Your mouth quivered. “I get it, you don’t need to — ”

He released your hand but before you could step away, his hands were cradling your face, tilting you towards him. You had no choice but to look at him. You inhaled sharply, feeling exposed underneath his gaze. But more than that, his eyes held an unspoken tenderness that hadn’t been there before. His thumbs gently brushed away the stray tears that had escaped.

“I’m not . . . good with this,” he said. “But I don’t want to be your friend because I — ” He stopped, almost seeming to pout at his lack of articulation. You had an inkling to what he was trying to say, to what he was hinting at and it made your chest tighten, made your palms sweaty and your heart race.

“Why?” you blurted out, feeling like you had to know why he would chose you, out of all people, and also because you weren’t sure you could deal with the implications of his words so soon.

Miyuki looked genuinely confused. “What?”

“After all I did . . . Not talking to you . . . Honestly, I understand why you blocked me — ”

“Blocked you? I never blocked you,” he frowned.

“I — Your number didn’t work when I tried to text you for your birthday last year,” you clarified. “No call, either.”

“Oh. Oh.” He seemed to understand and winced, a guilty expression passing over his face. “I got a new phone a few days before that. I broke my old one — ”

“How do you break a Nokia?”

He grinned, tugging on your cheek playfully and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his grin, so warm and full of mirth. You felt like a little thirteen-year-old again, experiencing the first adrenaline rush of your feelings.

“My teammates broke it,” he corrected. “Dad got me one, said it was partially a birthday present, too. I got a new phone number but I . . . Well, I never texted you my new number. I had yours, I just didn’t . . .” he trailed off and the happy bubble you two had found yourselves in popped.

It hurt, but you understood. Miyuki was the type to need to know — he needed to know why you had avoided telling him for so long, why you wanted to go all the way to Kyoto for school; he was analytical in every aspect of his life. You weren’t going to be excluded from that particular quirk.

But you also wondered what would happen now. If his terrible word phrasing from earlier said anything about it, Miyuki seemed to think of you as more than a friend — but it had been two years since you two had spoken or even interacted face-to-face.

“Hey.”

You blinked, refocusing on him. He was frowning, eyebrows furrowed as he squished your cheeks together. You struggled in his grip, feeling a scowl quickly form on your lips. “Your hands are probably filthy, stop that — ”

He sighed and dropped his hands from your face, stepping back to lean on the hospital bed fully. You were . . . disappointed at the ensuring distance, no longer finding his natural warmth at your disposal. You chided yourself; Miyuki had an injury. He shouldn’t exert so much energy. You weren’t sure about the extent of his injury, exactly, but if he had fainted from the pain, then it had to be worrying, right?

You scrutinized his appearance, too caught up in your worries to be shameful. At least that was one thing that never changed. (And would probably never change.)

“You should sit back down, Miyuki.”

Miyuki huffed softly. “It’s just an oblique muscle tear on my right side. And I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“I know.”

“And hey,” he caught your attention again. “Why do you always call me by my last name? Even Mei calls me by my first.”

You shrugged, shifting uncomfortably at the sudden question. “I don’t know. It was just a thing I always did. Besides, this is Mei we’re talking about.”

He snorted. “That’s true. Wait,” he frowned at you. “Since when do you call Mei by his first name? This is just unfair.” He pouted a little and you huffed.

“I’m relieved to see that you haven’t changed, and well, we’ve sort of . . . become friends.”

“You know we lost our ticket to Nationals because of Inashiro, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you’re going to Koshien Stadium now, aren’t you? It’s basically the same thing.”

“It’s not.”

“Mei and I are friends, I guess. He was the one who encouraged me to — to talk to you. Try and rekindle our friendship.”

“What exactly did he say?”

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at Miyuki. “Why do you want to know?”

Miyuki shrugged carelessly. “Mei’s the type to incite action in someone else. Would you have come if you hadn’t spoken to him?”

You made a choked sound of disbelief. “You’re assuming — ”

“You said you were in love with me, didn’t you?”

The abrupt reminder of your confession was like a slap to the face. You shut your mouth silently, feeling embarrassed at being put on the spot like this.

Miyuki looked thoughtful. “Whatever he said must’ve resonated with you. I imagine your sister had a hand in this, too. She doesn’t like taking the blame, does she?”

You were worried about nothing, apparently. Miyuki seemed to remember all your ticks now as he had two years ago. In fact, just being with him for these past few minutes have been refreshing. It was like coming home.

Miyuki huffed softly at your lack of response. “Look, I . . . I’m sorry. For everything.”

You stiffened. “What are you — ”

He says your name lowly, cutting you off short.

There was an edge of rawness in his voice, a vulnerability that you hadn’t ever heard before. You swallowed your response, watching him tentatively as he dropped his head, turning his eyes to the ground.

“These last few months were difficult. Did you know I was made captain? The, uh, previous captain — Yuki — nominated me, of all people. You know how I am. As you might imagine, we had a few clashes, but things are coming together now. I mean, we won. Can you believe that?” Miyuki laughed, but it was cold and brittle.

You didn’t like how depreciating this was turning. He may’ve asked for your silence, but if all he was going to do was put himself down, then you would put a stop to it.

As if sensing your climbing ire, he looked back up and the anger simmered, fading to a dull roar as you met his eyes. There was a warmth in there you hadn’t ever seen before.

“We got through it. We’re here now. Things are looking up. This damn injury . . . It’s just a speed bump in a long road. But through it all, I kept going back to you. You never left my mind. I,” he paused again and dropped his eyes, seemingly embarrassed, “I missed you.” It came out like a mumble, a hesitant admission; expected for someone as emotionally closed off as Miyuki.

But you found it charming. His inability to respond in closely social situations, in times like this that were intimate. You knew him well enough to know what he was saying.

“So, I’m sorry. For ignoring you. For prying when it wasn’t my place. For being an asshole about it all, really.”

You took a deep breath. This was it. “I’m sorry, too. No matter what, you deserved to know the truth.”

“Well.” It sounded like Miyuki disagreed as he reached up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “It was a deeply personal reason.”

You snorted. “No shit.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve always felt the same.”

You froze.

There it was.

Your heart was going into overdrive once again and you found your breath stolen from you when he lifted his head to make eye contact with you. There was still that warmth in there that hadn’t been present before. But maybe it had always been there, you had just never seen it. Miyuki was a master at disguising his emotions and you supposed you couldn’t ever have idealized the concept of him having feelings for you to be able to actually notice it.

“And I think,” he continued quietly, “that we’re not ever going to be the same again. But that’s okay. So, let’s start off with you calling me by my first name, yeah?”

The air left your lungs in a rush and before you could even think to manage an agreement, he lifted his hand to your cheek, settling warmly on the curve, thumb brushing gently over it. He pushed forward and you knew, you knew where this was heading. You didn’t stop him. You weren’t sure you wanted to. Sure, there might’ve been some things that still needed to be discussed but you had settled your battles for the most part.

So when he asked, his voice soft in the tenderness of the moment, “Can I kiss you?” You found it a little hard to keep standing straight, so why wouldn’t you have leaned forward on him — totally mindful of his injury, of course — and met his lips halfway.

There might’ve been a number of things that ruined it for anyone else — having to watch his right side constantly so you didn’t hurt him, the bookbag still weighing heavily on your shoulder, keeping an ear out for the nurses and doctors — but there were other factors that made it perfect for you.

The warm and firm press of his mouth on yours, easily consuming all your senses with everything that was Miyuki Kazuya but retaining a gentleness that was also him. Always making sure you were comfortable. And the way his other hand had easily fallen to your waist to keep you in place was your anchor, powerful tendons of his arm underneath your palm that kept you from falling into the sea.

It was strange. He was both all-consuming and anchoring.

He shifted, angling a little more to slant his lips over yours, deepening and taking you down to the depths of the ocean. You followed willingly, reciprocating eagerly if only to prolong this experience. But the growing burn in your lungs was going to be a problem soon.

That was okay. He was back in your life now, wasn’t he? Miyuki Kazuya wasn’t a stranger, he wasn’t a friend; he was something more, a fixated presence in your life that caused you both immense happiness and irritation. No one was perfect, you knew, but even with all his faults and flaws, he came pretty damn close.

And he was right, too.

You had sort of ruined your friendship, though you supposed it was on his end, too. This was a two-way street, after all.

But as he pulled away, breathing a little faster than usual, his lips beginning to swell, you didn’t find yourself mourning the end of it. No, as he caught his breath and leaned forward again to claim your mouth, you found yourself looking forward to what he’d bring.

Your future was firmly entrenched with his and you wanted it to stay that way.

#fair warning i wrote this when i was in my. sophomore year. in 2019. LOL #its not bad! im actually quite fond of this fic #particularly of my characterizations. mei especially. he grew on me while writing it #its been up on ao3 since 2019 i just thought that since i'm posting dogfish here #i might as well throw up my other oneshots #the shorter content basically. long stuff will be posted strictly to ao3 or wattpad #daiya no ace x reader #daiya no ace #ace of diamond #ace of diamond x reader #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader #miyuki #moss writes

[chuluoyi]

heartbreak hotel

- gojo satoru x reader

so you're going on a three-day-two-night getaway trip with the one and only Gojo Satoru. the catch? you two have just broken up.

genre/warnings: crack, jealousy, a dose of pettiness, hurt/comfort, fluff, zero angst i promise, suguru being a good buddy to his boyfriend best friend

notes: inspired by a very real life story :))) anyways, it takes place in an au where suguru never left and all is well with our little meow meow catoru the wonderful colored manga panel by the talented @redbluenight! this was so much fun to write (that it turned into a whopping 3k+ word, so sorry) and i even made a playlist while on it ;)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"He's intolerable!"

There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with Gojo Satoru, but if asked one word to sum it, then that was it.

When you started this thing with him, obviously you had never planned on how it would end―who started a relationship with that sort of mindset anyway? But if you could choose, you definitely wouldn't want it to end with dramatic shouting match that left you in tears.

Anyways, some things were just not meant to be. You refused to spend your whole life crying over that smug bastard, and so you moved on.

However, if there's one thing you've learned about plans, it is that whenever you already make a foolproof one, the world always has some funny way to mess it up.

Like this time.

"I... I remembered saving for months," you stammered dumbly, staring blankly at Shoko in front of you. The realization felt like a spiritual ascent. "I paid for that damn plane ticket and hotel with my whole saving. I can't just throw them away."

How could you possibly forget about this? This graduation trip that had been planned between your group of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and yourself for months now. It was meant to be a getaway, a celebration of your most significant achievement after four years of barely getting by on exorcising curses and not dying in the process. This was supposed to be the ultimate milestone celebration in your life.

"Then don't," Shoko replied simply, twisting the cigarette in her mouth. "I'm still going though. No way I'm wasting that money."

"But!" you vehemently hissed. "He will be there. It means I have to see him for three days straight!"

Your cringeworthy breakup happened just barely a week ago. You had sworn in front of Gojo Satoru that you didn't want to see his face again, and yet in less than a week from now, you and him would literally share the same space―again?

"Can't I get a refund?"

"This late? Nah, it's like yay or nay at this point."

You slumped in frustration. Were the gods making you swallow your own words now? You were left with no other choice. Your frugality and tendency to get broke often compelled you to make the decision.

You were going on this trip whether he was there or not.

Meanwhile, on his end, the said smug bastard was brooding, groaning and pacing over the same predicament. Satoru had two options and had weighed them all, and somehow he still arrived at the more seemingly no-good decision.

"I'm going, duh!"

"You are?" Suguru asked with a hint of surprise in his voice. "Well, might be the first time I've seen someone agree to go on an overnight trip with his ex..."

"Hmph. I just don't like squandering money."

Suguru snorted, unimpressed. “Satoru, you have an entire fortune. The airfare is just an amount you'd donate to charity. Besides, you have wasted more than that.”

“Well, I want to enjoy my youth too! I’m going—who cares if she’ll be there!”

He was still miffed, recalling the day your argument spiraling out of control. How could you say those hurtful things to him?

“You never take things seriously—heck, I’m not even sure if you’re ever taking me seriously at all! Satoru, you’re always acting all high and mighty, but you’re just a selfish little twat!”

No way. The last time, he was left in the dust, not being able to say anything in his defense. So now, he would use this chance to be the one who had the last laugh. He was going, because he was 70% sure that you wouldn’t let your hard-earned money go to waste.

And he was right when two days later, he found you at the airport with a bitter scoff upon seeing him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he moistened his lower lip in that obnoxious way. “Missed me?”

You walked past him, tone lacing with disdain. “Get lost, Gojo.”

He couldn’t help the prickling sensation in his chest when you dismissed him just like that. And the use of his last name—whereas you used to call him with all sort of available pet names? Now that was just low.

“Nah, you can’t get away from me that easily, Y/N,” Satoru sniggered. “You’re going to see me for the next three days, so suck it up and enjoy the sight,” and then the idiot proceeded to pump his fist in the air. “Wooo! Kyushu, here I go!”

Suguru and Shoko merely observed your icy interactions in silence, occasionally exchanging glances from time to time.

ITINERARY ::: DAY 1 — BEACH DAY @ SEASIDE HOTEL

After the three-hour flight, the four of you arrived at Karatsu, one of the main highlights in your trip—or back then, one you and Satoru handpicked yourselves.

You swore you still had your heart frozen for him, so you didn’t know what stirred it when you saw him giggling and doubling over in carefree delight, surrounded by those beach girls in skimpy bikinis.

“Hey, handsome~ is this even okay?” one of the girls in pink thong scooted closer to him, asking him with this cheap seductive grin. “Won’t your girlfriend be mad?”

At that moment, you could’ve sworn Satoru threw you a glance from the corner of his eye before replying with a triumphant bark. “What girlfriend? I’m wholly and happily single!”

The hell?

A rush of squeals grated your nerves as they swarmed your ex-boyfriend, prompting you to stalk away in irritation.

Absolutely not. You wouldn’t let this fine establishment be your heartbreak hotel any longer.

Gojo Satoru knew fully that he was petty. He let you see that on purpose just to rile you up, because frankly, he still felt like he didn’t deserve your messy breakup at all.

But when you were no longer in his eyesight, suddenly the urge to entertain these strangers dissipated, and what remained was this hollow sensation in his chest. You not paying him attention somehow made him crave it all the more.

He recalled how you pointed out that playing in the clear waters would be your ideal graduation gift. He specifically recommended this place himself and you had agreed. He remembered planning all of this, dragging Suguru and Shoko too just to make it merrier. To keep that cute smile on your face.

You were supposed to fool around with him in the clear waters of Matsubara Beach, splashing and pulling him underwater.

And yet in reality, he was toying with these questionable women and in your eyes, he was nothing but an irritable twat.

He didn’t see you again until evening, during dinner time. And the sight before him made him want to pull Suguru to the side and trap him inside his unlimited void.

"Really?" Your clear voice rang in his ears, every bit the same as when you would energetically question him with those doe eyes of yours, as you peered at Suguru. "We should go together tomorrow then!"

His eyes twitched.

What has his life come to? Reduced into seeing his ex-girlfriend possibly going on a date with his best friend?

He almost hoped that you'd stage up your pettiness level. It was worse because unlike him, you didn't make this up just to gauge his reaction.

That night, in their shared hotel room, he ignored Suguru completely, as well as silently waiting for him to divulge where he and you were going tomorrow.

"Hey Satoru—"

"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep."

It was obviously a wrong move, because Suguru apparently caught the hint and stayed quiet as a mouse throughout the night.

ITINERARY ::: DAY 2 — HOT SPRING @ KUMAMOTO

Or at least, last he remembered, that was the agenda.

Until he saw that only Shoko who was there, idling around at the hot spring area.

"Where are the others? Why is it only you here?"

She shrugged. "Geto said he's going to try the local specialties. Dunno where. As for me, I'm going to enjoy this onsen to the fullest."

Shoko noticed his irritated scowl, and a sly grin crept across her face.

"Heh, jealous much now, Gojo?"

Meanwhile, you and Suguru went to various dessert shops in town as per his invitation. Perhaps he took pity on you because you really seemed not to be having any fun at all after you stormed off from the beach area yesterday.

"Mmm! This is tasty!" you remarked, munching away the three-colored dango happily. You were so engrossed in eating today that you no longer had any room to think about anything else, which was a good thing.

Suguru smiled. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself now." However, he appeared to have something on his mind, prompting you to hum and tilt your head in curiosity.

"No, it's just... so it's really over between you and Satoru?"

You let out a snort. "Yeah. Totally. He's an ass."

"He really is miserable, you know..."

"Nah, he doesn't look like it."

Your friend sighed. "Honestly, what was the argument even about? Both of you usually didn't take it this far."

You didn't want to go back to that topic, really. But Suguru was always the one with cooler head, and after his kindness today, maybe you could spare him a detail or two.

"It's a lot of little things that have piled up, you know," you mumbled. "It's probably just how he is, and I know. But I finally reached my boiling point. Why can't he try to see things from my perspective? Everything that's important to me doesn't seem to matter to him, and relationships need two people, not just one who resigns and the other who does anything he pleases."

And until now, you doubted if Satoru even realized what he did wrong. That was what hurt you the most. Like you were so small in his eyes, like he could toy with you and get away with it.

As you expected, Suguru would understand your point. "So that's how you feel... Yeah, I think I get it."

You thought he would end it at that, but then he went on. "I'm not defending him, Y/N. I think some time away from you would do him good, but later, maybe you can talk this to him? See if he will understand?"

"I already did, so many times." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Not to offend you, but it awfully seems like you're defending him, Suguru, despite you saying otherwise."

"I'm saying this because sometimes we can forget that Satoru is different," he explained sympathetically, and to be honest, you were surprised by his statement. "He is born exalted. He has a hard time comprehending things that come to us naturally. I just think it's a pity if... you can actually fix this, but just because bad communication, you lose the chance to."

Have you properly communicated this to him? Now that you thought about it, most of the times you would just get mad and point at the little things he missed, but never actually told him how it made you feel.

Your mind was still muddled with the fact Suguru had shed light on even after you got back to ryokan where you were staying for the night. The two of you were in for a surprise though as apparently there was a festival happening there.

Everything seemed to spark with glitters. The bamboo lanterns, lights, the gentle breeze. It created an undeniably romantic ambiance, to be honest.

You didn't know when Suguru slipped away, but suddenly, you found yourself alone amidst the visitors and dim lights.

And you found yourself to be immensely lonely.

Satoru spotted you in all your solitary glory amidst the sea of people in this godforsaken place.

No, actually it was a pretty great inn and attraction, but this trip had been horrible so far, and so he just felt everything was bad.

But at that moment, bitterness no longer clouded his mind, because you were so beautiful, bathed in the glow of the lights that Shoko had forcibly dragged him to see. If it were up to him, he'd spend the last night sleeping his heartbreak away, but now that he was here, he was thankful to see the dazzling sight of you that reminded him once again just what made him hopelessly in love with you.

And why he didn't get his sorry ass back into your good graces faster.

He retraced everything had brought both of you to this point. Your last fight was about what again? Him not telling you any news when he would be back from a mission?

No matter how he thought about it, it was a trivial matter. So what made you mad? He kept thinking, and then he imagined switching places with you. What if you didn't text him at all for three days straight? How would he feel? Oh, he would be despondent, of course.

Now he was starting to understand. He had done that so many times he could no longer keep count. Granted, you would be angry.

Satoru suddenly know how to rectify this. He can make things right. He would be damned if he didn't. He just had to pull you aside, and he was going to when he lost sight you in the crowd.

Okay, now he was frantic, as the longer he didn't see you, the more his opportunity to make amends slipped away. He moved through the crowd, pushing people in the process, earning ire and questionable glares and yet he cared none for it.

He nearly cursed at how his phone kept vibrating incessantly inside his pocket. Begrudgingly, he took it out and almost gasped.

You are calling him.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It was so incredibly stupid. You just went to pee for a bit and then somehow got yourself locked in the toilet. It might have been fine, but then the lights unexpectedly went out, scaring the shit out of you.

How could such a upscale inn experience a sudden power outage and have doors that wouldn't budge? It was worse when no matter how many times you punched the switch or banged the door, it refused to turn on or open.

You were trapped. Honestly, it took everything you had not to cry.

And so you did the next best thing aside from forcing your way out. You called your friends. First, Shoko, and then Suguru, but both of them somehow didn't pick up the call even after you had called them three times each.

That left you with one possible person left. In your frenzied mind, it didn't even register in your mind what you were doing as the line connected and the last person you'd call on the other side answered.

"Satoru," you shakily breathed out, almost crying—or were you already? You didn't know as you focused on his sharp intake of breath, most likely surprised at how rattled you sound.

"Y/N? What? What is it?"

"I—" you wheezed, hating how helpless you sounded, yet still forced the words out. "I'm locked, it's dark—and it's just so—help! Help me please! I tried getting Shoko but she didn't—"

"Okay, sweetheart, calm down. Calm down, okay?" Satoru's voice brought you some comfort and it helped to reduce your tears, missing how he slipped up by calling you with his usual pet name for you. "Tell me. Where are you?"

"The women's restroom… I think it’s in the east wing."

"I'm coming, okay? Don't panic. I'll be there. Just stay on the line."

You heard his ragged breaths as he muttered several "coming through!" and "excuse me!" from where he was. It made your heart lurch. Despite the spiteful breakup, he rushed to your aid as soon as he realized you were in some kind of trouble.

Was this okay, to let your relationship end just like that?

"I'm outside." And then you heard his voice, much to your relief. "Y/N? Are you there?"

"Yes!" you shouted over the steel door.

You then heard how he rummaged to get the door open, and faintly hear him cursing it. "It won't open."

You wanted to sob, but then Satoru told you with an absolute tone, sounding so sure and demanding that compelled you to comply. "Get away from the door. As far as possible. Take cover."

Oh God, was he going to do what you thought he might do?

...he did. The next thing you knew, the door—and much more than that—was destroyed, and a rush of cursed energy was everywhere. After the blast subsided, you instinctively made a run for it, and you didn't know how, but you ended up stumbling into him.

Satoru caught you in his firm embrace.

"It's okay. You're okay," he cooed, whispering in your ear gently, urging your shivering body to calm down. "You're safe now, Y/N... I'm here. You're safe."

There was always something about your trembling form that made him want to tear down everything and anything in his path just to make you feel secure. And there was always this sense of rightness whenever you snuggled in his arms. Both desires clashed in a contrasting need and want and Satoru could do nothing but keep you close to him, torn between the two.

He kept his hand on your spine, and you clung on him, burying your face in his broad, sturdy chest.

Nevermind the fact that you technically broke up with him. Nevermind that ever since this botched trip started, it was the first occasion in which the two of you held a proper conversation without spewing bravado or sarcasm.

Afterwards, he led you away from the site, and he figured it would be best to go somewhere quieter rather than the festival, and so here you were, at the deserted lounge.

You had calmed down for the most part, and slowly you felt heat in your cheeks. In hindsight, you could've tried using cursed energy to blast the door too, why didn't you think of that earlier?

And yet, unaware of your internal musings, Satoru's thoughts were occupied with another matter entirely, and blame it on his insensitivity—he chose this moment to drop it without hesitation.

"I want you back," he declared, void of any hesitation. "I'll be better, I promise. Those things you hate—tell me, and I'll make sure not to repeat them again."

He wasn't the sharpest when it came to picking up on your feelings, but Satoru vowed that if it bothered you that much, then he would do his best to avoid doing it.

But you... you were still trying your best to grasp the situation. Amidst the plot twist you just experienced tonight, his blatant proclamation was the last thing you expected so you only managed a "What?"

He held your gaze, eerily serious. “I don’t want to break up. It’s hell. We can—I can still fix this.”

He looked sincere, unlike the usual empty promises he’d give you after you went off on him. And suddenly, you understood.

“…really?”

“Yeah. Just give me another chance. I’ll prove it to you,” Satoru said, visibly impatient now. “I won’t give you up. This literally is the fight of my life right now.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite yourself. If there was anything that you had learned tonight, it was that apparently you and him were still salvageable.

“And how will you prove it?”

“Just so you wait and see, sweets. I’m gonna relight your feelings!”

It was beyond corny that he took a line from your favorite song. And both of you burst into a laughter at the sheer silliness of it.

You sighed, but this time of relief, in stark contrast to your earlier sighs that afternoon. You were giddy as a smile perched on your lips. “Fine. Let’s give this another shot.”

Satoru felt the tension in his shoulder melt with your answer. A genuine, wide smile emerged from the bottom of his heart and lit up his face.

“Now, this whole trip has been kind of terrible so far, don’t you think?” He made a brief pouty face for a moment before reverting to his mischievous grin His remarkable expressiveness—reminiscent of a child's, in your opinion—never ceased to fascinate you. “I have a pretty good idea where we should go next.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Tomorrow’s our last day.”

“No freaking way!” he exclaimed, whipping out his phone to launch the travel agency app. “We are going to redo our graduation trip. This time just the two of us!”

There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with your dork of a boyfriend, but as you reflected on it, you realized that there were also many reasons for you to stay together, especially when he reached for your hand and held it firmly in his grasp.

You were unable to contain your excitement and bubbling with melodious giggles that he adored so much as he whisked you away from Kumamoto in favor of the last bullet train to Kyoto, where your long-awaited true vacation would begin.

Epilogue

“I told you this was a horrible idea. I fucking told you.”

"Can you blame me? Dude was about to throttle me in my sleep."

"Geto," Shoko scowled, her disbelief at his simple answer evident as she gestured wildly with both hands towards the wrecked lavatory, emphasizing her point. "Look—now that he had gone and done it, we're the ones footing the bill for the destruction of property!"

Gojo had blasted the washroom with a freaking Red. And the innkeeper promptly held both Shoko and Suguru responsible since their roommates were captured on CCTV and had vanished without a trace.

Suguru rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I genuinely thought it was a good idea. I didn't expect Satoru to go overboard though," then he threw her a stink eye. "And hey, you were complicit in this too!"

Shoko mumbled a string of curses as she pulled out her phone, snapping some pictures of the undeniable evidence of Gojo’s doing, and then made a call. Suguru frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm reporting him to the headquarters!"

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru imagines #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #hurt/comfort #jjk gojo #gojo angst #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #geto suguru #ieiri shoko #super shy at the beginning until airport is so uncanny idk why #and then seven when gojo fools around at the beach too #jjk fic #satoru x y/n

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Take It Easy

no outbreak!neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈10.2k

Summary: Your family throws an impromptu barbecue. You’re usually the one they throw every task on, but with today being your most painful period day, you say fuck it and leave them to fend for themselves. Only one other guest is invited today, and that’s Joel Miller.

Warnings: Age gap (23/43). Established relationship (to everyone but reader’s family). No physical description of reader besides outfit choices. Use of feminine pet names. LATINO JOEL MILLER (he’s canon in all my fics, sorry not sorry). Fluff with slight angst - getting caught, kinda (?) - happy ending, don’t worry. This version of Joel is always soft for reader, but I feel like he’s extra soft here. These idiots are so fucking in love (highkey jealous). SMUT 18+ MDNI: If you know the traffic light system for safe words, reader uses yellow at one point - but fluff & comfort happens immediately after. Dom/sub and Brat tamer/brat dynamics (subspace!). Daddy kink. Degradation kink (very brief). Making out/body appreciation. Masturbation (F). Oral sex (M receiving). Spit kink (I'm so weak). Exhibitionist kink - reader is being bold 🫣. Face fucking. Vaginal fingering. Lots of kissing (these two definitely have some sort of oral/kiss fixation istg). Soft unprotected p in v. Reader gets a surge of dominance, soooo ya get a glimpse of sub!Joel😏…...I think that's it. Let me know if there’s anything I missed. 🫶🏼

Author's Note: This can be read as a stand-alone, but I accidentally connected this a bit more than I intended to the What You Need fic. That fic talks a lot about reader's background/family dynamic and why/how Joel is the way that he is with reader. There's also some little details in here that might fly over your head if you haven't read What You Need. However, I genuinely don't think any confusion or such will occur if you only read this one shot. I hope you'll be able to enjoy all the same. Much love 💚

MASTERLIST || ONESHOT COLLECTION

“Can you prep the veggies?”

“Can you prep the grill?”

“Can you make the rice?”

“Why don’t I make the entire fucking dinner at this point?” You snap in the direction of the kitchen from your place on the couch, wrapped in blankets, snuggled with a heat pack over your lower belly. 

“Well, if you’re offering,” your brother smirks. 

You started your period yesterday, and the second day is always the absolute worst. Your flow is heavy, your cramps are excruciating, and your mood is all over the place. Today was not the day for an impromptu barbecue, regardless if there were guests or not. 

You promptly give your brother the middle finger then pull yourself off the couch to make your way to the bathroom. You’ve filled up an entire pad, yet again, in less than 20 minutes. 

You always do everything for your family, but today, you absolutely don’t give a fuck. Today is self care day for you — popping three painkillers then heading straight to the dark of your room. 

You’re not entirely sure how long you fell asleep for, but the smell of charcoal smoke and sizzling steak is what wakes you up first. The next sensation that fills you is the sound of heavy boots walking from, what you assume to be, the back door to the kitchen. Joel. You’d know that walk anywhere. He’s taking on the tasks for your family that usually fall on your shoulders. 

He called you this morning before everyone (including you) woke up, saying he’s excited to see you tonight. You grumbled sleepily, about to tell him you were just as excited when a searing pain ruptured in your stomach, causing you to gasp out in pain. 

“Baby?” Joel called out, “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Fuck, sorry, baby, it’s nothing,” you shyly say. He says your name. You start to explain, “I started my period yesterday, and-” but Joel cuts you off. “The second day is always the worst,” he states factually. 

You smile to yourself, “Yeah, exactly.”

He tells you to get up and get a glass of water and some medicine to ease the pain, which you do, then he tells you to let yourself sleep in today, which you don’t. 

“Fine,” he relents at your stubbornness, “but at least take it easy today, darlin’, ya hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Miller, loud and clear,” you tell him. 

You can feel his dumb fucking lopsided smirk through the phone, “Fuckin’ brat,” he snarls. 

“Mhm, but you’re fuckin’ brat,” you correct him.

“Yes. Mine.”

“Mmmm,” you let out a soft moan at that. Mine. You love the way it sounds, the way he claims you. “I love you.”

His cock twitches at the sound you make, but he wills it stay down. He takes a breath before he responds, “I love you, baby.” He can’t get ahead of himself today. He needs you to take it easy. So he tells you exactly that, again, for the last time before he ends the call and lets you take on your tasks for the day. 

Even though the mouth-watering scent of all the delicious food has completely pulled you awake, you stay in bed a little longer, basking in the sensation of absolute no cramping in the position you’re in. And as if on cue, Joel quietly knocks on your door, waiting for you to invite him in. 

“Come in,” your voice cracks, still groggy from the hours of no speaking. 

He enters softly, clad in that denim button up you love so much paired with some dark washed jeans. “Hi, darlin’,” he makes his way to place a soft kiss to your forehead, your nose, then a longer one to your lips. “How you feelin’?” 

“Better now,” you coo, completely enamored by how soft your big, burly man can be. “Food smells good. You helped them?” 

He’s sitting at the side of your bed now, facing you, so he can rest his arm across you. “Only your old man. Carried in the food as he finished puttin’ em in the trays,” he says as he draws little circles on your arms. 

You hum in response, too content at his presence. Still unable to use your voice, you tug on his arm, silently asking for him to hold you for just a moment before you eventually need to get up. 

“They all left, by the way,” Joel soothes. 

You finally have the strength to lift your head up, a quizzical look on your face. 

“Your brother needed an herb, your dad s’more charcoal, obviously your mother drove ‘em. I don’t know where your other siblings are, though,” he explains. 

“Oh.” You look up at him. “So what you’re saying is,” tugging harder on his arm to pull him into your bed, “you can freely cuddle me until then.” 

He chuckles at that, giving into your pull, and wrapping his hand around your jaw to pull you into yet another sweet kiss. He’s laying down next to you now, and you take the opportunity to completely entangle your limbs into his, your head tucked into his neck. 

Your family is gone for another forty-five minutes from that point on, and you two spend each minute just completely wrapped into each other, sharing sweet, wet kisses everywhere both of  you can reach. His thigh supplying light pressure between yours at your core, spurring you both on just enough but not to the point where you lose all self control. 

There’s something about the way you two can touch each other like this. With past partners, they always wanted things to escalate. To undress you and devour you at any sign of affection. But with Joel, it’s natural. Of course, his body will react in ways that show he physically wants more, but truly, he just wants to adore you and appreciate you and love you. And in the moments where those three words aren’t enough, he shows it in the other pure way he knows how to. 

You’re too distracted being consumed by Joel’s touch, but as sharp as an eagle, he immediately perks at the sound of your family’s arrival. He slowly pulls away, trying to savor the kiss as much as possible. Finally it breaks, and you immediately pull your bottom lip into your mouth, trying to savor the way he feels and the way he tastes. He gives you a look of pure love and devotion—a look you know is only reserved for you, a look you’ll never get tired of. “Time to get up, darlin’.” 

“Ugh,” you whine out, “Okay, I’ll meet you out there. I’m just gonna change, baby.” 

He pulls you up out of bed and straight into another chaste kiss, “Want me to make you tea?” 

“That sounds lovely, baby,” you blush at his attentiveness. You’ve been spoiled rotten by him for the past year, but you still get so flustered every time. “But I think we’re out of what I normally drink-”

He stops you with yet another kiss. “I bought a box of that peppermint blend before I came.” 

You can’t stop the way you absolutely fold for this man, evident in the shaky breath you take and the way you completely stumble on your words, “Y-yeah, o-okay, yes, please.” 

He smiles and nods, walking directly to your kitchen without another second to waste. 

God, he deserves some fucking head right now, you think to yourself as you quietly giggle. 

You make your way to your bathroom, taking a quick body shower because those several hours of sleep, plus the way Joel was on you for 45 minutes, had you looking like a murder scene down there. You dry yourself off, lotion up, and change into some loose black sweats and a fitted, light blue baby tee. 

You look a lot brighter after your rest; Joel was right in telling you to sleep in, you needed it. Not that you’d ever tell him. He doesn’t need anymore ego boosts. Ya see, what’d I say, darlin’? you can hear his Texan twang scolding you already. 

He looks up from the kettle pot boiling before him to see you perched on the bar stool on the other side of the kitchen island, bright eyed and awake, watching him make your tea. “Thank you again, baby,” you softly say. 

He comes around behind you, setting your mug in front of you accompanied with three soft kisses peppered to the area where your shoulder and neck meet. “Of course, my sweet girl. You ready to eat? Everythin’ is set up out back, and everyone is out there, too,” he sighs, “already eatin’.” He says, annoyed at the fact that no one thought to call and check in on you, let you know that the ritual of eating together already started. You’re used to it by now, but seeing his reaction reminds you that it’s not normal for your own family to treat you this way. You smile a little sadly, trying to think of how you want to go about this. Usually you just wouldn’t eat, but with Joel around, you know that’s not going to fly. 

“How ‘bout,” he says as he wraps his arms around your waist, his head still resting on your shoulder, “I go out there, make a plate big enough for us both, and I come back in and we share?” He could easily get you your own plate, but he knows your family. They’ll jump at any opportunity to shit talk you when they don’t understand the entire situation. Getting you your own plate and serving you when he’s a guest in your own home could inspire that, and he really doesn’t want you to experience that right now. 

You lean into him, turning your head a little to place a kiss to his cheek. “Okay, baby,” you smile, “yes, let’s share.” 

He comes back inside to you snuggled on the couch again with a pullout table propped right in front. He snuggles up right beside you, placing your legs right on top of his, keeping you secure with a hand on your thigh. 

The plate is filled with a mountain worth of food. You already know three-quarters of that is going down his bottomless pit of a stomach, laughing to yourself at the thought. One thing that wasn’t on the original menu for tonight was on his plate. It also just so happened to be one of your comfort foods whenever you weren’t feeling good. “W-who made the mashed potatoes?” 

Joel looks up at you sheepishly. He thought he’d be able to pull it off. He didn’t just go to the store, before he came, for your mint tea. He also went to get the ingredients for the mashed potatoes recipe you love so much. Within the almost two years he’s spent getting to know you, he’s recognized that every single time you’re feeling under the weather or falling into some type of depressive slump, you’re either eating or craving it. “I, uh- When I went to go get your tea… I figured I’d get ya your stuff for this, too. Made it before I came to wake ya up.” 

“Joel…” your voice cracks and your eyes tear up. 

How is it that after 23 years of life, you’re finally experiencing what it means when someone loves you? And you’re not talking romantic, you’re talking pure, genuine love. Love that you should’ve received from your parents, your siblings. They have never once shown you the consideration of making you your favorite meal, or fixing you a cup of something warm when you’re not feeling well. They have never shown you what it means to appreciate someone, in any of the love languages. The only person that has shown you remotely anything is your mother, but even that is limited because she cowers behind the directives of your father. You see her try, and you feel selfish not to appreciate it. But is it selfish to just want to be wholly loved by the people who created and raised you?  

You pull the fork out of his hands and set it back on the plate. And in an instant, you completely throw yourself on him, your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, legs tightly hugged between his own. He loses his balance and lays straight back onto the couch, letting out a grunt at the landing, with you on top of him. You push into him for a kiss, your noses smooshing together as you lick inside his mouth with a sense of urgency to show him how much you love him. Once the initial shock of you pouncing on him wears off, he immediately wraps himself around you, tightening his hold to pull you in impossibly more. His tongue dances with yours, one arm wrapped around your middle and another secure around the bottom of your ass. 

You adjust to straddle his hips, sitting up and pulling him up with you by the collar of his denim. You break away from him just for a minute, heavy breathing and eyes dark, and you let your hand glide down his chest, swiftly undoing a few buttons of his shirt, making sure to leave a trail of sloppy, wet kisses as you go. You make your way down to his belt, unbuckling it with such a need that he can’t help but just watch you. You slip the belt out of the loops, letting it fall to the ground, and you’re scooting back more to situate yourself in between the tight space of his legs. You palm him through his jeans, feeling how absolutely hard he is, which elicits a deep groan from the man above you. With that, the button and zipper of his jeans are undone. You bring your hands up back to the hem of his jeans, looking back up at him for his approval. 

“Sweet girl, ya know your folks are right outside,” he tries to warn but fails with the way his voice wavers with need. 

You look to the back door that’s twenty feet away, curtains completely drawn, and look back at him. “You and I both know none of them are coming back inside for a while,” you raise your eyebrows in defiance. 

He is truly at war with himself right now. He could let you do what you want, knowing you get off just as much as he does when you give him head. Or he could situate you back to your original positions and finger a few orgasms out of you, and he just pulls away from you if someone were to walk in — the safer route. Or. The safest option being he bids your folks goodnight and you let them know you’re going out for the night. 

Though, the latter would just be too easy. He knows you both revel in the risk, in the act of sneaking around. Which is why he finds himself scooting forward to the edge of the couch, and you take the hint loud and clear. He wants you on your knees for this. He meets your stare once more, both of you sparkling with mischief. “Well? Darlin’? Best get on with it then, huh?” Followed by him lifting his hips slightly so you can tug his clothing down, his tip red and aching. 

“Fuck, yes,” you gasp out, “been thinking about this since you left my fuckin’ room, daddy, I want you so bad.” 

Your admission spurs him on more, and his eyes go impossibly dark. “Go on, darlin’. Prove it to me. Show me how fuckin’ bad.” 

You pull yourself up to stand on your knees for a moment, and murmur a quiet come here to him, urging him to lean in for a second. He pulls closer, stopping an inch away from your face. You open your mouth for him, tongue sticking out and flat. He gets the hint, and before you can even register, his hand is on your jaw, tilting your head back and opening you wider, and he spits. 

You use all your self control not to swallow it right here and right now, desperate to feel any kind of warmth from him slide down your throat. You have other plans right now. You close your mouth and let your own spit generate, absolutely giddy with want to please your man. His eyes are fixed on you, knowing your next plan of action, but still stunned all the same at how fucking filthy his sweet girl is. You pull yourself back, hovering your mouth over his erection. 

You open your mouth and just let the combination of both of you fall from your mouth, sliding down his cock like the sweetest of syrups that you can’t wait to lick up. As the amount of spit starts to really gather, you grab him by the base and start stroking up and down his length, putting extra emphasis on his tip, running your finger over his slit for good measure. He lets out a stuttered groan at that, and you take that as your queue to finally put him in your mouth. Running your tongue in the same pattern your fingers did his tip, making him hiss in your ability to make him fold at the smallest of touches.

You keep this pace for a good while, using your hand in tandem with your mouth, stroking up and down in the speed and pressure that you know brings him to the edge fast. The sounds coming from your throat mixed with the slick feeling of your hand pumping him has your pussy absolutely dripping for attention. Fuck it. You slide your other hand down into your underwear, and begin to play with your clit, not wanting to go any deeper for fear of getting blood all over the place. Joel wouldn’t mind—of course, he wouldn’t—but you would, so you give yourself just enough to ease the aching need between your legs. Your moans get louder now that you’re touching yourself, your throat adding a delicious vibrating sensation to him. 

His eyes were shut at how fucking amazing you’re taking him, but with the sounds you’re making, he can’t help but make sure all his focus is on you. And god damn, when he sees you touching yourself so prettily while you’re being such a good girl making daddy feel so fucking good, he can’t help but cum at the sight. “F-fuck, sweet girl, holy fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, “It turn you on that bad to have my dick in your mouth, huh?” 

You pull off of him with a pop, making sure you keep as much of his cum in your mouth as you can—because there’s a fuck ton—and you fix your stare into his dark eyes as you swallow every last bit of him. “So fucking good, daddy, I-” you break off into a moan, your hand that was pumping him now gripping his thigh to maintain your balance as you continue the ministrations on your pussy. 

“Cum for me, baby, show me how good it makes you feel to be daddy’s little slut,” he demands. You gasp out at his words, that demand being what really throws you over the edge. Your clit pulses underneath your fingers, you feel yourself gush out, your blood and cum making you feel impossibly messier, and with that, your body goes rigid. 

Joel leans forward and grabs onto your jaw, keeping you upright while you come back down from your high. You’re so far gone that you don’t realize he’s peppering your face with kisses, uttering sweet nothings until you’re back with him. He gently pulls your hand from your pants and settles them into your lap.

“I’ve got ya, baby,” he kisses your lips softly. 

“My sweet girl,” he kisses your jaw, “I love you,” another kiss at your pulse point below your ear. He feels your body begin to relax. 

“Atta girl, baby,” he whispers before reaching down and settling his other arm underneath your legs, positioning himself so he can pick you up in a cradle position. He stands and carries you to your bathroom, settling you on your feet for one moment so he can pull your sweats and underwear off of you. He guides you down onto the toilet, kissing your forehead and muttering a quick one sec, baby before he steps out. He comes back two minutes later, and you’re still in subspace but slightly more grounded, and he kneels down in front of you, instructing you to lift one foot at a time. 

He went to go get you a new pair of underwear and some gray sweatpants. He already stuck another pad to your underwear, too. The action fills you with such an overwhelming feeling that you can’t help the tears that roll down your flushed cheeks. He looks up, knowing everything you’re saying and feeling by your gaze alone. He cups your cheeks with both hands, rubs his thumb to wipe the stray tears, and kisses your forehead, your left eye, then your right, your nose, and finally your lips, all in an attempt to seal every ounce of love and adoration he has for you.  

“I love you,” you finally say, leaning your forehead against his, and just take a moment with his hands on you. He pulls back again with a kiss to your forehead, and he grabs the wipes on the counter, encouraging you to lean back a bit, so he can clean you properly. 

“Wait, no,” you meekly say, trying to grab the wipes from his hands. He knows you get embarrassed at the fact that he sees you a little gross like this, and you know he truly doesn’t care. Usually he relents and lets you do it yourself, but tonight, he’s doing everything for you whether you like it or not. He raises one eyebrow at you, and that’s all you need to bring your arms back down in defeat. You lean yourself back a little, spreading your legs open, and let him clean you up. 

When it comes to other activities during your period, you usually are uncomfortable. But with Joel? With him, you don’t mind. You actually love it. It’s in moments like these that remind you how irrevocably in love you are with this man.

Afterwards he stands you up, pulls your bottoms on, and turns you towards the sink and washes your hands for you. He really wasn’t kidding at how easy he wanted you to take today.

He carried you back to the couch and wrapped a fluffy blanket around you. You threw yourself on him in the middle of your guys’ meal, so after he settles you into the couch, he transfers your shared food to a real plate instead of paper and warms everything up. He does the same to your peppermint tea. 

After everything is warmed, he settles back onto the couch beside you, pulling your legs up onto his thighs and holding you above your knee to secure your position. You go to reach the fork, but Joel is quick to swat your hand away, taking the fork and feeding you a bite of your mashed potatoes instead. 

“I told you,” he scolds, “to take it easy today.” 

You frown, “And I have been! You’ve literally been taking care of me since you got here.” 

He sets the fork down, reaching for your tea and lifting it up to your mouth. He’s not gonna respond until you take a sip, which was much needed as your belly immediately calms at the heat. You take one more sip as he begins, “You pouncin’ on my fuckin’ dick was not takin’ it easy.” 

You cough on the fucking liquid still traveling down your throat. You were not expecting that to come out of his mouth. You try really hard to will yourself not to fucking burst out in laughter because you know how serious he was with this statement. So instead, you settle for your typical smart ass remark. “It wasn’t?” You asked. “Seemed real easy to me,” you add as you take the fork from his hand and take another bite of the yummy food before you. His eyebrow shoots up and you give him a lopsided smirk in return. 

“Watch it, sweet girl,” he says as he brings his hand up, thumb and forefinger pinching at your chin to force your eyes into his. He gives you a bruising kiss, one that entices him to bite at your bottom lip as he pulls away. You can feel yourself slipping again. He’s not done with you, he’s just giving you a moment to refuel. 

“I’ll be good,” you softly whimper as you chase for his lips. “I’m not so sure about that,” he responds as his grip on your chin gets tighter, forcing you stationary and a few inches too far from where you want him to be. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes gloss over as you whisper out a small I promise, to which he says, “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure of it.” 

He lets go of your face completely and continues feeding you, alternating between the food and your tea. As the next bite he prepares for you reaches your mouth, something that has never happened before decided to occur. Your mother comes inside the house, and her first sight as soon as she came in was you, completely wrapped around Joel, and him feeding you. 

Your jaw freezes, his grip on your leg tightens out of instinct to protect you, and it’s a staring standoff between the three of you. Joel doesn’t realize he’s still holding the fork up until his hand starts to shake, so he gently sets it down on the plate. It’s you who speaks first. “Mom, I-”

But it’s your mother who wants the first word. The first two words, actually. “How long?” 

Your heart is beating out of your chest, and the only thing keeping you from full blown panic is all the ways you’re in physical contact with Joel. “I can explain, mom, I-”

“Flower,” she says to comfort you. She’s not mad? you think. Your heart immediately calms, but now you’re just confused. Growing up, your mother always called you her flower. She used it predominantly when she wanted to help you regulate. You’ve always been full of anxiety and other strong emotions. Flowers are strong and beautiful, and show exactly when they need support. And when they are given the support they need, they flourish. That’s you. You are a flower. Her flower. But now she can see, there’s someone else tending to you. And she is not mad. 

“A year and some change,” you softly say. She looks between you two. Then she steps forward. “Look,” she breathes. “I know our family hasn’t been the best in showing love or appreciation. And they obviously haven’t been the best at fending for themselves-”

“Amen to that,” you say, and she chuckles in appreciation. She continues.

“Thank you, by the way. For everything you do around here. We both know none of it would get done around here if it weren’t for you. I try to help you as much as I can, but obviously not enough. If you can pull everyone’s weight around here, which you shouldn’t have been doing in the first place, then I can at least pull my own and whip them into pulling their own, too.” 

Your eyes are watering, and you take a deep, shaky breath. Joel feels it. He brings his hand around to rub small circles into your back. You’re so grateful he’s here. “I love you,” you say to your mom. 

“I love you, too, flower, but I’m not done. I also know that I’m not too great at using my voice. Defending what’s right. But you’re the one person in this family that’s given me the inspiration to fight for what I believe in. You give me strength, and constantly seeing this family pull you down lower and lower as the years go by breaks me. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.” 

Tears begin to fall, both on your face and your mom’s. 

“And in this last year, and some change, to be exact,” she smiles as she recalls your answer from earlier, “you have been the most vibrant flower of the entire garden. In the gloominess of this house, you continue to grow, and I’ve been dying to understand what changed. And now I see why. And I have never been more grateful for another human—the first one being you—until he entered your life.” 

You and Joel both look at each other, his eyes have a hint of gloss to them now, too. 

“So,” your mother says as she reaches for the tissue box on the counter and walks back to hand you the box. “I won’t tell a soul. It’s not my story to share. And remember. I will always have your back. Always. I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel comfortable enough to tell me about such a beautiful relationship, but we’re here now and I need you to know that I will forever support what makes my flower happy,” she looks to Joel, “and that’s you. I will support both of you until my flower decides on something different.” 

Joel’s face turns into a scowl, half joking and half pissed at the thought of you leaving him. “Which, I have a feeling isn’t gonna happen, so you can calm yourself, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” your mother adds after seeing his boyish reaction that would normally scare anyone but you, and apparently your mother. 

You lose your shit at his new nickname, and all the emotions just flow out at once. You pull yourself off of Joel and run into your mothers arms, needing her comfort. She holds you like that for a few seconds before she says, “Okay, go, I think Mr. Grump needs your comfort now. Absolutely no way I’m doing it.” You laugh and squeeze her one last time before she grabs something in the kitchen and heads back outside. You make your way back to Mr. Grump, straddling his lap. Before she opens the back door, though, she calls out your name. 

“Yes, mom?” 

“I’ll cover for you, hon,” she says nonchalantly as she goes back outside. 

You and Joel stare at each other for a moment, too shocked to take action on the opportunity that just presented itself to you. Then, it finally hits. You pull him into a kiss that’s downright feral, your hips grinding down on him on instinct. “Take-” you say as you try to break away from the kiss, but you’re too drunk on him to completely pull away, “t-take me home, baby.” 

He grunts in response, and stands up with you completely wrapped around him. He heads for your front door. 

“Baby, Baby, wait, not here,” you say breathily as you go back in for another quick kiss, “through the garage.” He looks confused for a second before he remembers. The front door camera. The left side of your driveway being the camera’s blind spot. Immediately he reroutes.

You would think the first thing he does is bring you to his bedroom, but no. He sets you on his couch, molding your body into his signature position for you that makes you sit on your heels, palms up on your thighs. He could’ve easily told you he wanted you in position, but again, he told you to take it easy. 

Although the position almost always forces you into subspace, you’re confused and coherent enough to question him, “Baby..?” 

He steps back, looking down at you with his eyebrow raised, “Don’tcha remember, sweet thing?” 

“You pouncin’ on my fuckin’ dick was not takin’ it easy”, he said. 

You promised you would be good. 

To which he assured you, “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure of it.”

He sees the moment it clicks in your head, and immediately his hold is on your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He leans down, his lips ghosting over yours. He whispers, “Color?” Still demanding but with a hint of softness to it. You tilt your head further back, trying to make your lips touch him more, “Green,” you say. 

He pulls your chin into him and kisses you, slow and sweet, his tongue tangling with yours. He pulls away, breath slightly shaky, but he composes himself quickly and stands straight up, letting go of any contact with you. 

His couch is either really low to the ground, or he is just one big motherfucker. Either way, you sitting on your haunches on his couch like this while he stands straight up in front of you makes your head in direct eye line of his crotch. And you can’t seem to pull your eyes away from it. You see his tent forming, and you’re smart enough to realize what lesson he’s about to give you. 

“Told you to take it fuckin’ easy today,” he says as he slowly unbuckles his belt, “didn’t I, baby?” 

“Yes, daddy,” you say quickly, not wanting to piss him off more. 

“But ya didn’t,” his belt falls. “Did you?” 

Your spit thickens. “No, daddy.” 

His belt is on the floor, and he’s reaching to undo his button and zipper. “My good girl was jus’ too fuckin’ eager to have my dick in her mouth, hm?” 

You lick your bottom lip, catching the drool you didn’t realize was pooling out of your mouth. Like Pavlov’s fucking dogs, he’s got you trained. You let out a whiny mhm in response, already completely blissed out at the prospect of what’s about to happen. He settles for it, this time. 

He pulls his jeans down, just enough to pull himself free. He leaves his boxers up for now while he explains. He walks closer to you, his hardness one lick away from you, and forces you to look up at him again. “You’re gonna take my cock in your mouth again, sweetheart,” he says. 

You eagerly cut him off, “Yes, please, thank you, daddy, I-”

He shuts you up by pushing his thumb in your mouth. “But you’re not gonna move or do anythin’, besides sit prettily for daddy,” his grip on your jaw tightens, “ya understand me?” He slides his thumb out and spreads your spit across your bottom lip and down your chin. 

“I understand, daddy,” you say, your eyes completely glossed over. Out of instinct, you fold your hands behind your back, signaling to Joel your complete submission to him. 

“Such a good girl when you remember how to be patient,” he says as he stands back to his full height again. He gets impossibly closer, crowding your face. He pulls his boxers down, and his erection springs free, the tip landing against your lips, smearing the pre-cum across it. It takes everything in you not to lick it up—you can’t, he needs to give you your next instructions. He hears your silent pleas, and as he settles his hand at the back of your head, fingers grounding themselves into the roots of your hair, he tells you, “Open.” 

Knowing how rough Joel can get, you take a deep breath, relaxing your throat, and you open wide, your tongue laid flat out, slick with the drool that’s been forming since the noise of the belt buckle hit your ears. 

His other hand is holding himself at the base, guiding himself into your mouth. He taps his tip on your tongue a few times for good measure, before pushing himself all the way in. You feel your gag reflex coming, but you take another deep breath through your nose, urging your throat to relax a little more. It does. He pushes slowly in until your nose is flush with the patch of hair above his length. All you wanna do is unclasp your hands and reach for his thighs to pull him into you tighter, wanting to engulf his scent into you, but you can’t. All you can do is take what he gives you while sitting pretty like the good girl you are. 

He starts to pull back a little, and that naturally makes your throat contract, forcing a groan out of him and more saliva out of you. He lets go of himself, and now both hands are on you. He taps your cheek, asking you to look up at him. “Hands behind the entire time. Any touch on my thigh signals red to me, okay?” 

You nod your head as best you can with his grip on you and let out a little moan for good measure. At your signal, he completely and utterly wrecks you with no hesitation. And you take it exactly as he gives it, just like you promised you would. 

The more he thrusts, the more spit that builds, leaking from your mouth and down your chin. Your eyes are shut at the feeling of him abusing your throat, but he won’t have that. You feel his other hand not tap your cheek twice. Your eyes fly open and land on his dark ones. “Those eyes stay on me,” he grunts out at a particularly rough thrust. You whimper out at his words, trying to convey your apologies for doing something that could make him mad. “No, it’s alright, darlin’,” he says, his pace never faltering. “I- fuck- wasn’t specific enough,” he grunts, “but ya know what I expect now,” his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. “Isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

Your eyebrows furrow and try to emphasize with your eyes that yes, eyes on you, daddy. He understands. “Atta girl, baby,” he breathes out, pulling out momentarily to give you a breath. 

You choke out a little as he pulls out. He softens, concern laced in his voice, “You okay, amor?”

“Yes,” you say weakly, “I promise, please. W-want more..” You open your mouth wide again, tongue positioned perfectly for him to slide back in. 

His eyes fall dark again and there’s that signature lopsided smirk. He guides himself back into you, completely, and his hand from your cheek glides down to wrap around your throat. “Shit, amor, you feel that?” He squeezes at the base of your throat. “I’m all the way fuckin’ in there, baby,” he says, falling back into a rough pace, feeling the outline of his dick glide in and out of your pathway. “You’re takin’ me so-” he lets out a pained grunt. He’s close. “-so fuckin’ good, shit, baby.”

Your throat constricts again, and that feeling is what sends him over. For the second time today, all of your senses are being consumed by everything Joel: his taste, his smell, his touch, the downright sinful sounds that grace your ears, and you take it all in, eagerly. Both hands release their hold on you as he pulls out of your mouth, and you’re quick to lean into his hips. His hand shoots back to the nape of your neck, pulling you back like a mother does to her puppy.

“You’re fuckin’ insatiable, you know that?” he says, out of breath, still trying to compose himself from the soul-sucking he just took from you. You give him a blissed out giggle, “You jus’ taste so yummy, daddy.”

“Yeah?” he asks, amused. “Well, so do you, babygirl, so it’s my turn now.”

Immediately your ears perk up and your body goes rigid. The thought of him giving you head with the flow you have right now doesn’t sit right with you. “Yellow,” you shakily whisper.

He lets go of the back of your neck and falls to his knees to match your eye level. “Oh, honey,” he cups your face, “Please tell me how to make it better. Do you wanna stop here, mi amor?”

Your body relaxes at his instant reaction. You’ve only ever had to use a safe-word with Joel twice. Today, included. And in each rare moment, he does what every caring partner and proper Dominant should: validate, comfort, and communicate. He has never given you any reason to be scared or feel disrespected. This is Joel we’re talking about here. You’re safe in his presence, always. The thought puts you at ease, but it also makes you feel a little ridiculous at using a safe word for something that could easily be communicated without it. 

“Wait, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you or anything, it’s something so tiny and stupid, I should’ve just communicated instead of going straight to the code-” you quickly start panicking as you ramble on, but he’s quicker. He pulls you off the couch and into his lap, holding you in a tight embrace, knowing the pressure is what helps pull you away from your panic attack. He’s muttering it’s okay, you’re okay and I’ve got ya, as he kisses the top of your head. As soon as he feels your body relax in his arms, he speaks. “Darlin’ girl, please look at me.” You do, teary-eyed.

“I completely forgot you were on your period. I was too in the moment, and I had a lapse in judgment in my words. I’m sorry. You should not be the one to apologize, ever, if you’re ever in an uncomfortable situation like this. The safe words are there for a reason, okay? Use them. They are there to keep you safe, always. Thank you for speakin’ up, my love.”

You nod your head at his words, too emotion-filled to respond with anything else right now. The only thing you can offer is a whisper of a “Thank you, I love you,” but that’s enough for him. 

He gives you a soft kiss to your lips. “How would you like to continue, beautiful girl?”

You think for a moment, and the way that his hand feels wrapped around you starts to make your arousal build again. All you can think of are his big, calloused hands all over you. In your mouth. On your thighs. In your warmth. Screw the bloody mess, he doesn’t care. You squirm at the thought, and he feels you falling back into your space again. His cock stirs beneath you. He tightens his grip on you to coax you out of your thoughts. “Fingers,” you squeak out, your cheeks flushing red instantaneously. He grins, but his eyes stay fixed on you, hinting at you for something more. Then, it clicks. “P-please, daddy, need your fingers in me,” you say, voice trembling with need. 

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he says as he pulls your thighs around him and brings himself to full height. He leads you to his bed, setting you down on the edge with a kiss to your forehead and a quick one moment, sweetheart. 

He leaves to return back with a large bath towel and lays it across the center of his bed, dark blue to match his sheets. He situates pillows for your head and leaves a smaller one out, just in case. You feel his weight shift the bed, and he’s walking toward you on his knees. You lean into his touch the moment his hand makes contact at your lower back, and he’s guiding your shirt off of you. He takes that same arm, wrapping it around your waist, and leans down to situate the crook of your knees over his other arm. He’s carrying you up higher to the center of the bed, completely removing any opportunity for a thought to run through that head of yours. He wants you focused on nothing but the way he’s going to make you feel. 

Once you’re laying down on your back, he makes his way down, placing soft kisses on your belly and all over your thighs while he slides your bottoms down your legs. Once you’re completely bare, Joel situates himself in a way that he’s never done before. He lays next to you on his side, shoulder propping him up, so his hand is underneath your head and he’s still looking down at you. He grabs onto your thigh closest to him, and he hooks your leg atop of his, opening you up. 

The level of intimacy and vulnerability of the way you two are positioned against one another has your mind reeling, absolutely aching to be consumed by him. Joel is always sweet and soft with you, but this is completely on another level. It doesn’t feel motivated by a feral need to rip each other apart. The motivation lies in the pure need to feel. To feel you against him, consumed in the entirety of love and raw emotion. To feel him against you, filling you with a genuine intimacy and devotion you both know only he can provide you.

He brings his other hand up to gently cradle your face, and he leans in to slot his lips against yours, his tongue running along your bottom lip, swallowing the faintest of whimpers that slip from your throat. Your hand slides to the back of his neck, keeping him close, deepening your dance of lip and tongue. His hand drifts away from your face and takes his time to grasp and show attention to the rest of your body. 

He takes one of your breasts in his hand, massaging it with a care that causes your fingers to curl tighter in his hair. He shows the same attention to your other one, then flattens out his entire hand to run down your sternum and belly, positioning his hand on the pathway down for his middle and ring finger to be the first that make contact with your sex. 

And when it does, neither of you can hold back the groan that leaves your mouths. He’s too enamored by you to let his lips leave yours, but you have a feeling your filthy-mouthed man would make a comment about how wet you are for him. You know you’re right when he completely bypasses your clit and down to your entrance, eager to get his fingers covered in you, so he can spread it all over you. 

You pull away for a moment, both of you out of breath and pupils completely blown. “You see how good you make me feel, daddy?” His fingers reach your clit again. “I’m so fucking wet,” you moan out, “and it’s all because of you- all for you, daddy.”

“Baby, please,” he grits out, his fingers leaving your clit after a few more circles, dipping into your entrance with ease. “So fuckin’ good to me, but fuck, stop talking,” he breathes, hips involuntarily thrusting into you, “need you to soak my fingers first, amor.”

You shoot him a smile that gives him butterflies, and then you’re pulling him back in, needing to feel him everywhere he can possibly manage. 

The pace of his fingers are perfect, constantly hitting the spot that’ll get you there in no time with the heated sensation of lips. His hand behind your head moves down and wraps underneath your waist, pulling you in flush with his body. He needs to feel every part of you. Your leg closest to him—the one hooked around his leg—comes off of him, and now you two are completely laying on your sides, facing each other. 

His fingers leave you for a moment to hike your other leg up and around his waist, your pussy inches away from his center. His fingers find you once more, and the angle is impossibly deeper. You’re whining out now as you rock your hips against his hand. He knows you're close with the way your breath shakes. He reaches his thumb up to circle your clit, and you break away from his lips, throwing your head back at an instinct, exposing all your sweet spots for his mouth to reach. As his hands continue working you to the edge, he gives you the final push when he latches at the base of your neck where your shoulder meets, and he litters the area in wet kisses and painfully delicious bites. 

Oh, fuck, daddy, yes,” you moan out, your vision going white and your body going rigid. Your climax hits you so hard that you don’t realize his fingers left you, your thighs still convulsing and hurtling you through your high. You can faintly hear Joel, muttering his sweet whispers, as he always does. 

“Oh, fuck, that was so fuckin’ sexy, baby.”

“You’re beautiful, yanno that?”

“I love you, my pretty girl,” he places a kiss right atop your heart.

Still, your mind is floating somewhere in narnia, so he understands when you don’t reply right away. You’re not even completely back from your orgasmic haze when he pulls his boxers completely off, throwing them somewhere in the room, and his aching cock is resting against your core. 

“Darlin’ girl,” he brings his hand up to guide your limpless head to look at him, “I need you to use your words f’ me, honey, please give me a color,” he says, the softest you have ever heard him. 

You give him the smallest smile back, but it’s so full of love and admiration. You’re lightly nodding your head yes, trying to will your vocal cords to respond. “G-gre..” you let out.

He stops you with a kiss, “Okay, honey, okay, that’s all I needed,” and another kiss, “Can I give my baby what she so desperately wants now?” 

The prospect of the sensation your body is about to go through because of him ignites a fire in you. It forces you to come back down from your haze, so you can register every second of him in his entirety. Your neck straightens and your eyes open fully, pupils blacker than he’s ever seen. “Yes, daddy, please give it to me,” you say with a neediness more than anything. His lip quirks up in a smirk. “What my baby wants, she gets,” and he’s pushing your hips into him as he pushes into you, his tip notching at your entrance. You hiss, reveling in the stretch he gives you regardless of how much he works you open. 

There’s a stigma with Dominants that they are always so calm and collected, always composed and never in a state of neediness and desperation like their submissive counterparts. However, that’s simply not true. In every please, in every whimper, in every cry; in every orgasm, in every act of brattiness, in each use of the honorific; in every demonstration of pure submission: there is a Dominant, willing themself not to give in and give their partner everything they need. There is a Dominant about to break because one more plea from the submissive’s mouth has them ready and willing to forgo every single plan they had for that particular scene. 

And that’s exactly what Joel does here. He had a plan for you, even after you used your yellow code, but with the way he’s wrapped around you tonight—you have the power. You’re calling the shots. He exists simply and solely for you and your pleasure. Nothing else matters. 

He bottoms out, and both his arms are wrapped around your waist, both of you completely aligned with one another. “How do you want me, baby?” 

“I don’t care,” your forehead falls into his, “I just need to feel you, please.”

With your words, he’s thrusting into you with a calculated intention. You needed to feel him, you said. So he pushes in not too fast but not too slow, and hard. He buries himself to the hilt every single time, and it’s like he put you in a trance. Your eyes softly shut, trying to stay open to look at him; your eyebrows are pulled together; and the only sounds falling from your mouth are moans and whimpers and sweet nothings only he’d be able to decipher with your babbling. You feel everything in this angle, with his rhythm. You feel every vein, every ridge, you feel his tip kissing every sweet spot inside of you while simultaneously stealing the oxygen from your lungs. He feels so fucking good. Your leg hooked around his waist squeezes tighter on instinct, and he groans at the feeling. Seeing you completely desperate and at his disposal nearly finishes him right then and there. 

Your hand is at its usual spot for tonight, wrapped tightly in the curls at the base of his neck. You're meeting his thrusts now, and it heightens the sensation tenfold. Both your breaths are hot and heavy, mingling into the thick air of Joel’s bedroom. You’re nearly at the edge again, you both are, but you need a little more of a push. “Baby, t-touch me, please,” you say with more breath than your actual voice. He sounds absolutely pained, “I got’cha, baby, I got’cha.” His hand leaves your waist, the other tightening around you to compensate for its absence, and his fingers are back on your bundle of nerves, circling at the same rhythm that he’s pulling in and out of you. 

A gasp leaves your throat, and every part of you that’s wrapped around him pulls him in impossibly tighter, “fuck, just like that, fuck, please don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop,” you ramble on in an almost incoherent whine. You can feel your words and sounds spurring him on as his cock twitches inside of you. He’s close, too. Then it clicks, you realize what you meant earlier when you said you needed to feel him first.

His fingers speed up and so do his hips. “C’mon, darlin’, such a good fuckin’ girl, give it to me, soak my fuckin’ cock,” he grunts out, now chasing his own release. 

Not stopping your movements, you unravel your arms from him and you push down on his chest, pushing him onto his back. You’re on top of him now, your movements only faltering momentarily as you situated yourself to straddle him. You grab both his arms, the one working your clit and the other on your waist, and you bring them up above his head. You pin them there with your own hand, your body leaning over him and adding to the momentum as you bounce on him. “No,” you say, almost a growl, “Need you inside me first,” sucking his bottom lip. 

He fucking whines. “Need you inside me first, then I’ll give you what you’re looking for.” You switch off into a grind of your hips, moving back and forth as the feel of his pubic hairs rub against your clit causing your pussy to flutter on him. He feels it and his hands flex to move from your grip. Your hold on him tightens. You have the power. You lean down, licking a pathway up his neck and making your way near his ear. You whisper, “Stuff me full of you, daddy, and I’ll fucking soak you, I promise.”

“Fuck!” He growls as your hips speed up, and now he’s the one seeing stars. His face and neck flush into a bright red as he floods you with his release. And as if right on queue, the warmth and the feeling of him in you and seeping out of you is what finishes you. The constant stimulation on your clit from his pubic bone along with the angle his dick continues to prod at, you’re creaming and soaking him, just like he wanted. His thighs and even the area below his belly are drenched with the mixture of your guys’ fluids, and he can’t help but gawk at the scene before him. 

You are completely surrounded by the product of your two’s arousal (plus a bit of blood, but he doesn’t care), you continuing slow grinds as you work yourself through your orgasm, and the way that your head is thrown back in pure bliss—he’s entranced by it all. His cock is nearing the line of painful overstimulation with you still on him, but he really can’t find himself caring enough to get your attention. 

He thought he would never be into giving up his dominance, his yearn for control. But now that you’ve given him a taste at what you’re capable of, fuck, he feels downright insane if he didn’t want more of it. 

You realize he may not be used to the oversensitivity as much as you may be trained for, so you bring yourself to a halt and slowly slip off of him. You bring your eyes to meet his, and you can’t help the giggle that leaves your mouth, seeing the goofy, blissed out grin on his face as he looks at you. You lean towards his head and give him a sweet kiss to his lips and his nose, and you softly tell him that you’ll be right back but to stay here with a slightly more demanding tone. 

You quickly go pee in his en suite bathroom and wipe your bottom half down. You grab a pair of his boxers he leaves for emergencies under the sink (you let out a little chuckle at the fact), and grab a pad from the box he also leaves under the sink, for you, and stick it onto his underwear before shimmying it up on you. You grab another washcloth and soak it in warm water and walk back to the bed. You sit yourself up next to him and start wiping him down. As soon as you finish, you try your best and throw the washcloth, aiming for the sink of the bathroom, but you fail, miserably. It lands with a wet plop on the side of the toilet, centimeters away from landing in the toilet’s bowl. “Eh, that’s good enough,” you say to no one in particular as you nudge him to bring his hips up so you can take the towel out that he placed earlier to catch any of your blood drippings. You place it in the hamper, then you bring yourself to lay back down, cuddling into Joel. 

He turns so you both are facing each other again. His head propped up on his hand. His other hand runs up and down everywhere he can reach. 

“W-was what I did at the end there… was that okay?” you ask meekly as you slowly bring your eyes up to his. 

He lets out a hearty laugh, shoulders shaking. You weren’t expecting that kind of reaction. “Honestly,” he says as his fingers come to a stop and he just lets his arm wrap around you lazily. “I was really shocked when you flipped me over, but then,” he pauses for a second. Really just to spur you on more than anything. “I was so fuckin’ turned on and achin’ for you. I’d just about let you do anythin’ to me if you treat me like that, darlin’,” he says as he leans down to place a kiss to your lips. 

He pulls back and your gaze is away from him and your cheeks are as red as he was earlier. A shy smile paints your face. He brings his fingers up to your chin, “Oh, come on now, no point in gettin’ all shy on me now is there, my dirty girl?”

You give him the best reprimanding face you can muster (which he finds beyond adorable), and you parrot a common phrase he uses with you when you’re a brat, “Watch it, big boy.”

He laughs at your antics, but you see his cock twitch at the pet name. Your eyebrows shoot up. “Joel!” you say, actually reprimanding him this time, but you genuinely don’t know what for. 

His hand shoots to cover his mouth, an attempt at stopping his burst of laughter at your reaction. He lets go of his mouth after a moment and pulls you closer to him. He places kisses all over your face while you both giggle and let yourselves fall from your high together. 

He abruptly stops his kisses to look at you. He doesn’t say a word. “Yes?” you ask, curious of that mind of his. 

“Ya know how much I love you, right?” he asks, genuinely. 

“I think I’ve got a pretty good hint, baby.” 

“Good,” he says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“And I love you so much, you do know that, right?” you offer as you bury yourself into his chest, inhaling his musk mingled the faint aroma of you.

He repeats your response back to you. You smile in his chest. It’s you who places a kiss atop his heart this time. 

You both stay wrapped up in each other for a few more hours before your tummy begins yelling at you for sustenance. Though, until that happens, you two lie in each other’s arms, wondering what you did to deserve such an all-consuming, raw and genuine love. 

Your mother was right. You really were the brightest flower in the garden, and it was all because of your big, macho man, who was actually as soft and cuddly as the clouds that bring water for the garden. Ever since he entered your life, he made sure those clouds poured all their attention on you. Giving you all the water and nutrients, all the love and care that you would ever need. 

Forever. 

End note: Thank you so much for reading! As always, your support is always always appreciated. There's no amount of words to describe how grateful I am for how much love I receive from you all. You're all too amazing. Feedback is also greatly appreciated, whether it's praise or constructive! Anything and everything helps me to be the best writer I can be. I love you all so very much💚💚💚

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EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

#smut #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #endless thoughts fics

[nicksolemnlyswears]

HAN LUE HEADCANONS PT. 3

pairing: han lue x waitress!reader

word count: 8.7k

warnings: smut

notes: part 3 is finally here! so sorry for the delay. i wanna say thank you for all the love on part 1 and 2 as well as in the requests. this will be the last part of the waitress!reader headcanons for now. i left the ending open to give myself space to come back and add more if i'd like. i've been thinking of doing a mini series of han and that other person that comes up in the end (sorry im trying not to give anything away).

if you guys want me to expand on any part of the headcanons even if it's just a one liner let me know and maybe i can write a small drabble or oneshot on it.

i have my fingers crossed that you like how it turns out. i definitely have a favorite part of this particular part of the headcanons. again, thank you! enjoy!

ps. want to add a little warning that these headcanons might not be the most grammatically correct in terms of punctuation just because i don't go deep editing. it's a choice i make but if you've read my oneshots you know i am better than this lol.

PT.2

-everyone has a side of the bed, you and han are not an exception. from the first moment you slept over at han's the side farthest from the door has been your side.

-on a random day the conversation comes up and you ask han why the side closest to the door is his side. he tells you it's in case an intruder were to break in (which is highly unlikely) you'd have time to escape.

-lowkey all this time you guessed he picked that side because it's right under the ac vent and he gets hot at night. so you call out his bullshit and he admits that's partly the reason, but what he said remains true, it's safer for him to be right by the door. ridiculous because there is no way you are going to run away and leave han to fend for himself.

-talking about apartments and sides of beds. when you moved out of your place you brought along a box or two of knick knacks that couldn't be stored in a warehouse. you placed them strategically around han’s (now both of yours) apartment.

-han admits he likes having a shared space with you. you gave it a different flare with your decorations. or simply, you took away the fact that it was a former bachelor pad.

-he likes coming home to you everyday. whenever you stay with mindy, for one reason or another, it feels lonely. something he'd never felt before. it's like somewhere along the way he got attached to you and now he's constantly seeking you out.

-one thing han detests though is the abundance of pillows on his bed. you don’t even use all of them! before going to bed you throw them by the chair on the corner of the room. he says it's pointless, you say it's decor.

-because you have a semi normal schedule now you have more time to visit han at his garage. you make sure to talk a bit with reiko and han's other friends but most of the time he steals you away from them.

-if the crew at han's garage is not careful they run the risk of finding you and han in compromising positions. you try to prevent han from getting carried away but it's hard when you want him just as much. you've had to apologize to twinkie and sean one too many times. poor boys can't even look you in the eyes after what they've witnessed.

-han is the type of guy to tell you to check something out under the hood of the car despite you warning him you don't know shit about cars. he couldn't care less, it's an excuse to see your ass bent over his car.

-you would be talking to him about how it all looks like a bunch of scrap metal when you feel him pressing up against your backside. you'd look over your shoulder and han would say 'everyone went out to grab a bite. thought i'd have mine right here, baby.'

-you would roll your eyes at him but would push up against him nonetheless. in record time he'd push down your pants and underwear and sink his cock into you. you hang on to whatever part of the car you can as han thrusts repeatedly into you. 'you look so fucking pretty, baby. should’ve gotten you like this sooner.’

-all this time you're moaning and calling out his name. until he suddenly slaps his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. with slow deep thrusts he'd lean down to whisper in your ear 'fuck, baby. they're back, but don't worry i'm almost done. just keep quiet for me.'

-han knows his way around your body so with precise touches to your clit and the angle of his thrusts he makes you cum quickly which prompts his orgasm as well. his near silent grunts are music to your ears.

-by the time sean comes looking for him han is bent besides you on the car pointing at something called a radiator. had he been there 5 seconds earlier he would've found han tucking himself into his jeans and you pulling up your pants.

-with han's help you get the restaurant running in eight months. it was a long eight months filled with work, day and night. the old diner was remodeled in its entirety which included kitchen, storage area, and dining space.

-you lovingly named the restaurant CATCH MY DRIFT. it's cheesy and punny but you love it. you found it necessary to pay homage to han in some way.

-the soft launch is successful thanks to your staff, some of which are the same people you worked with when it was a diner. you and han invited friends and other important people who would help spread the word about your little restaurant.

-mindy was in charge of the restaurants social media. she made it her mission to help you succeed and she did a wonderful job. she took beautiful pictures of both the restaurant and you. the socials began gaining a following pretty quickly thanks to her and her abilities.

-after the first official day of the restaurant being open and all the staff left, you prepared a table with candles and rose petals. there is one last person you had to serve for the night.

-han had been there with you through it all. he's been your support through every sleepless night and anxiety attack due to your fear of failing. he made last minute runs to get anything you might've forgotten and forced you on aimless drives around town to get your mind off things.

-han made your dream a reality. han wove himself seamlessly through all your hopes and dreams and became an integral part of them. now you can't see your life without him by your side.

-han returned to the restaurant under the impression he was going to pick you up. you might not work the night shift as a waitress anymore and you know how to drive now too, but he'll always pick you up and take you home. it gives him time to talk to you before you go through your night routine, head to bed and he heads out to the races or any other errand he has to run.

-when he enters he sees the romantic setting and you waiting for him in a beautiful red dress. you smiled softly at him and took his hand in yours.

"what's all this?" han asks, following you to the table where you pull his chair out for him.

"it's a thank you," you say, walking around the table to find your seat that faces him.

"you didn't have to, baby. you've been working all day," han shakes his head, although there's a grin plastered in his face. he appreciates what you've done.

you've told him countless times how much it means to you everything he's done. the moment he walked into your life he changed it all for the better.

"maybe i didn't, but i wanted to. all of this was possible because of you," you tell him, grabbing his hand that lays on the table, "will you let me start making it up to you?"

-it's come up on your late night conversations how you're guilty of han spending so much money on you. the last thing you want is to make him believe you're with him for the money. so you take each opportunity that presents itself to make it up to him.

"alright. what you got?" han asks.

you uncover the dinner plates to reveal a simple bacon burger with fries. no pickles. han's smile spreads even further touched by the gesture. it's been a long time since he's had one of these.

"i figured you missed your order considering i have been feeding you fancy dishes all these months," you chuckle, remembering all the tastings han had to go through. "i'll always have a stock of burgers and fries just for you. all you have to do is ask."

"have i told you i love you," han says, lacing your fingers together.

you hum quietly, pretending to think and say, "not today." you bring his hand up to your lips, kissing the back of it.

"i love you, baby," han repeats for the first time today but for the thousandth time since he said it first.

-there are times where han runs out of his snacks and doesn't have access to a store immediately. wether it's because he's at the races or driving around the country side or any other reason.

-when this happens he gets really antsy. he'll pick at loose threads, or at the skin around his fingers, he'll drum his fingers against something, or his leg will bounce. it's very noticeable that something is bothering him.

-it happens while on a trip around europe. han planned it as a vacation for the two of you for your second anniversary. he (you) had exhausted all his snacks and you were about an hour away from civilization. an idea suddenly pops into your head, han wants to have his hands and lips busy and you have the perfect thing.

-you take off your seatbelt and lean over the center consol. han doesn't question you until you kiss his cheek down to his neck.

"what're you doing, baby?" he murmurs, his eyes briefly looking at you before they return to the long stretch of pavement.

"making you crave something else," you whisper in his ear, biting his earlobe.

"get in my lap," he immediately responds. han's pretty tall so there's a huge gap between his chest and the steering wheel, leaving his lap free for you to sit on. 'if i fits i sits' style.

-you don't hesitate, since you've adopted han's risky behavior. once in his lap he catches his lips on yours. the focus he has to maintain on the road while kissing you is enough to make him forget his cravings.

-you eventually forget what lead you to this as you get lost in the kiss. it's not often you get to take the upper hand. taking advantage of the situation you slip your tongue inside han's mouth, massaging his tongue with yours.

-when he makes it to a gas station in the middle of nowhere he parks far away from the pump. you whine about having to walk the long distance to the convenience store.

"i need you now, baby," he grunts, grabbing the back of your neck to smash his lips against yours and showing you his true intentions.

"hannie this car is tiny, it'll be so uncomfortable," you whine against his lips.

"it's either the half a millon car or the public bathroom," he breathes, lifting your dress without waiting for your answer.

"i can make it work here," you huff, straddling him. you bump your head on the roof of the car but han quickly pulls you down flush against his covered cock.

"that's what i thought," he groans into your mouth as you grind against him.

-when you finish your risky endeavor you stumble out of the car and speed to the bathroom to clean yourself. han goes inside to grab snacks and pay for gas. he grabs snacks for you as well seeing that was what led him to run out in the first place. you made up for it in your own way though.

-in terms of your family, you haven't talked to them in about four years. once you spoke up about hating your college major and the fact you were gonna switch they presented you with a choice. continue the path your father paved for you or leave.

-you gave it a lot of thought. you finished your semester and everything. but in the end you decided you didn't want it. you hated your classes and was miserable. so you left. and your father told you not to come back unless you got your priorities straight.

-mindy took you in, let you live with her while you found a new place to live and a job. without your parents support you couldn't afford the culinary school you wanted to go to. with what little savings you had you got your apartment and soon found a job in the american themed diner.

-the diner was your saving grace. they let you stay on the overnight shifts. you didn't have a family to go to, you didn't exactly go to school during the day either, so it worked.

-you had other jobs along with the diner but none lasted and then han came along and it all changed for the better.

-you think about your family often. you remember your parents and sisters birthday and the anniversaries. when those days come along you keep yourself occupied.

-one night you and your staff are cleaning after a long shift and the door chimes as someone enters. you ignore it believing it's han that's come to give you company and take you home, but someone clearing their throat makes you look up.

-your mom stands there, she's still the same as the last day you saw her. her clothes are as expensive as ever, her shoes and bag matching perfectly.

"i thought i'd find you here," she speaks smoothly with her head held high as she assesses the restaurant.

"how did you find me?" you ask not giving her the pleasure to have your full attention as you finish wiping down tables.

"there's been buzz going around about a brand new restaurant. one of my friends came and saw you," she goes silent. "she was right, it's a nice place, is this all yours?"

"is there something you want?" you ask her, finally facing her. you didn't feel inclined to go on to explain your mysteriously wealthy boyfriend funded it.

"we need to talk," she tells you plainly as if she hasn't lost the right to speak to you.

"we're talking," you huff, ignoring the true meaning of her words.

"in private," your mom grits, grabbing hold of your arm much like when you were younger and refused to listen.

-to avoid a scene you know she's fully capable of making you guide her to your office. it's simply decorated with a desk and a few chairs scattered around. there's a white board on the wall where you write down your menu ideas and to do lists. there are also sticky notes on it that han has left behind throughout the months. some are sweet and encouraging and some are naughtier with innuendos and inside jokes.

"talk," you say when she stands in the middle of the room taking it all in.

"is that a way to treat your mother?" she scolds you.

"we haven't seen each other in four years and you suddenly come here. just say what you have to say," you angrily exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i never agreed with what your father did," she then reveals.

"and yet you didn't do a single thing about it. either way, he got his perfect daughter" you humorlessly laugh, referring to your sister who did everything your father expected of you. "is that why you're here? to suddenly apologize?"

"i want you to come back home," she responds.

you shake your head, "that's not happening. i have a life and i can't drop it just because you want me to. besides it's not like dad wants me there."

"he does, he's too stubborn to admit it, please come back," your mother pleads, forcefully grabbing your hand in hers.

"why now? i refuse to believe this is coming out of nowhere." you rip your hand from hers and a disappointed expression crosses her face.

"your dad is sick. the doctors don't think he has a lot of time," she gulps, turning her back to you.

you're quiet as you process her words, "i'll think about it. if you'll excuse me i have a restaurant to take care of."

you leave her behind and see her walk out of the restaurant soon after. your mind remains busy there after as you mull over her words.

-days go by of constantly thinking about it. han notices the moment he picks you up that night but wants to give you time to bring it up. except you don't.

-three days later he finds you in his bathroom, deep in your thoughts in his bathtub, the water a bright pink from a bathbomb you must've used.

-he gets in the tub with you. the water is still hot as he sinks in and sits behind you. you must've gotten in not long ago. instantly you relax against him. han wraps his arms around you, tracing figures against your stomach and thighs.

"rough week, baby?" he murmurs in your ear.

"mm yes, the delivery came late, not once but twice. burned my finger, cut my finger, burnt some food, feel like a loser," you list out, rubbing his thighs which are around you.

"it's one bad week, among a sea of other good ones," he reminds you, lacing his hands with yours.

"hope so or i'm retiring at the ripe age of twenty six," you smile, turning your head slightly to kiss his jaw.

"it's okay. i'll be your sugar daddy," he jokes with you. although he definitely would be your sugar daddy if you decide not to work another day in your life.

-theres a glass of wine by the bathtub that han notices. you only drink wine when something is troubling you. with gentle coaxing han convinces you to tell him what's been on your mind.

-it's he who convinces you to go and see your dad at least once. he put into perspective you might regret it in the future. you're not doing it for them, you're doing it for yourself.

-you contact your mom and tell her your decision. she invites you over for dinner. it'll be just the four of you. you didn't want to bring han in case all hell broke loose.

-as you get ready han helps you with the clasp of your high heels. you prop your foot in his knee, your dress riding up, revealing your black lacy underwear. he takes the opportunity to caress your leg from your thigh down to your ankle. he'd buckle the strap of the heels he gifted you that make your ass look great and then he'd kiss your knee.

-han would repeat the process on your other leg too. only that after you straighten up he'd pull you down to his lap to kiss you and try to convince you to a quicky. just this once you don't give in. you don't want to cast a bad impression by being late to see your family for the first time in four years.

-nervously you knock on the door. your mom answers and she welcomes you in. it's oddly strange to be back in this house, you feel out of place. you peep the wall where your parents measured you and your sister when you were growing up. the dent on the wall you caused using your bike inside. your childhood is present still.

-your mom failed to mention she didn't tell anyone you were coming as your sister is quick to stand "what is she doing here?"

"i invited her," your mom tell her.

your dad is quiet as you take a seat where you always sat when you lived there. there's an unbearable silence until he speaks, "can i ask why the sudden appearance?"

"mom told me about your situation," you tell him with a frown.

"what situation?" he prompts, looking at your mother.

"that your sick...although you look pretty healthy to me," you softly say, redirecting your gaze towards your mother.

"i lied yes, but i thought this was the only way to get you here," she shakily admits, secretly hoping you don't up and leave.

"mom, oh god," you sigh in relief. your shoulder no longer holding the weight of your father possibly dying.

"do you realize how fucked up that is?" your sister adds.

"it got her here!" your mom yells, making everyone go quiet.

-the rest of dinner goes by as normal as it can. your parent ask you about your new life and everything you've been doing. it was agonizing. you answer most of their question albeit reluctantly.

-the question you've been dreading comes up. 'are you dating anybody?' you tell them you're in a two year and a half relationship.

-you avoid saying he's the one that funded the restaurant. you owe everything to han but if you tell them it was him who put in the money they will probably discredit you and your abilities.

-your dad calls you over to his office to talk after dinner, your sister glares at you, she's upset you chose to leave, cause it means you turned your back to the whole family. she believes you're selfish because you 'forced' the family business onto her.

-you emptily apologize for coming home when he told you not. surprisingly he asks you about your new priorities and although they don't necessarily align with what he had in mind for you, he accepts them and asks you to be around more.

-more importantly he apologizes for what he did. he had a health scare recently and realize he wanted you by his side (it’s where your mom got the idea). after talking to him you leave. going back to talking to your family will be hard because for the longest time you suppressed it.

-han waits for you back home, your true home. he's watching tv, an old japanese movie from the 90s. you tell him all about your family dinner and how your mom lied but he was right. you would've regretted not going.

-feeling good about your night you give in to han's advances. throughout the night he couldn't shake off the sight of you in your pretty dress and heels. he doesn't ruin the illusion as he only takes off your panties. the dress and heels stay on as he fucks you, your legs pressed to your chest as he wants to be as deep and close to you as possible.

-while your parents want you back in their life you don't instantly go back, choosing to show them you got back on your feet without them. you have a new life.

-but once your moms birthday rolls around you don't feel the need to busy yourself, instead you pick up the phone and give her a call wishing her a 'happy birthday'.

-han eventually meets your family. your mom is instantly charmed by him so much so that by the end she has him calling her by her first name. he certainly made a great impression with the flowers and expensive earrings he picked out for her.

-your dad takes longer to come around but by the end of the night han has him wrapped around his pinky finger as well. your dad likes that he's a 'business man'. if only he knew how shady han really is.

-in just in a few hours they were able to see how much you and han care for each other. it's in the way han searches for you in the busy room. he looks out for you constantly in a non-possessive way. or the way you constantly reach out for him to hold his hand or wrap his arm around you.

-han is not one for big and elaborate love gestures. he believes in showing his love and appreciation everyday with smaller gestures. like restocking your skin care products when you're running low or leaving hand warmers on your coat pockets in the cold winters or buying take out of whatever food you're craving.

-he listens to you when you rant about your interests like the new season of Game of Thrones or about a new compilation that came out of your favorite artist. he'd make an effort to learn about it just so he can have an input in your conversation. han loves the way your eyes light up whenever he voices out an opinion, especially when it goes against yours.

-'friendly' debates are your thing as a couple. it's coincidental that in some minor things your opinions are different. like if the dress is 'black and blue' or 'gold and white'. you swear its black and blue but han insists it's not.

-the same goes for you, because you see all the effort han makes for you, you try and learn about cars and drifting and learn the names of whatever technique is popular. you learn about his favorite foods and favorite movies (which are mostly american and from the 90s) and tag along for the occasional race.

-han's favorite way of showing you his love is with colorful post-it notes. you'd often find them in your office in the restaurant, in the mirror you use to get ready for the day, the fridge door, on your kitchen counter along with your favorite chocolate bar. you'd even find them on the depths of your purse.

-funny thing is you've never caught him sticking them anywhere. so it's always a fun surprise.

'don't worry about lunch today. i'll stop by the restaurant with your favorite! -h'

'i love you, baby -h'

'roses are red, violets are blue, i love you, let’s go screw -h'

'cutie pie ;) -h'

'stop stealing my peanut crackers :( -h'

'you're both my favorite chef and my favorite meal -h'

-after two and a half years of dating han you finally get the opportunity to meet the toretto crew. they would be staying in japan for about a month in a mansion they rented out in the mountains.

-han is beyond excited that his friends are visiting. he constantly talks about them and has all these plans for when they arrive.

-you're nervous to say the least. this is his chosen family and he's been through so much with them. gisele was part of that family too and you feel the pressure of being compared to her once you meet them.

-you convince han to go meet up with then first and you'd join them later that night. you didn't want him to wait so long for you to finish work. besides in your mind it's better if he catches up with them before you get there. you wanted him to enjoy being with his friends without worrying about you.

-when the day finally comes you say goodbye to a sleepy han, go prep the restaurant, work your butt off for the day and once you clos the restaurant you go to mindy's house to get ready.

-you visit her to distract yourself and to have someone call you ridiculous for being afraid of meeting han's friends. it also helps as she distracts you with talk of her newish relationship.

-as you scramble through your toiletry bag looking for a hair tie, you push away your deodorant, tampons, dry shampoo. but you come back to the tampons realizing it's been over six weeks since your last cycle...

"mindy!"

"i know what i said was out of bounds but he called me a dramatic bitch!" mindy exclaims from her spot on the bed where she scrolls through instagram.

"tampons!" you yell, pulling them out of your bag.

"what about them?" she asks, looking at you over her phone.

"i haven’t used them.”

"you want me to give you a prize or something?" she mumbles, shooting you a strange look.

"no, mindy, no. i haven't gotten my period!' you begin pacing around the room with the box of tampons in your grasp.

mindy jumps from the bed and begins panicking as well, “oh, we'e going through this. we're having the pregnancy scare, how exciting! every pair of best friends have to go through this."

-mindy runs to the pharmacy on her block to get you a pregnancy test while you chug down two water bottles. she gets you one of each test they had. you had to pee but your nerves made it difficult. mindy forced you to chug down a soda too cause if you don’t pee wilingly you'll do it forcefully.

-through all this mess han calls you. he's been expecting you for the past hour. everyone is excited to meet you. he's spoken so much about you and your name has slipped past his lips a few times during the day. they can tell he's more than obsessed with you.

"hey baby, are you on your way?"

you’re dressed but your makeup is barely done. considering the stress you’re currently going through you definitely have to put on some makeup.

mindy motions to you to respond as she holds your phone on you hands because you were washing your hands free of pee.

"h-hey hannie, two more minutes and ill be on my way. mindy is going to take me," you scrunch your eyes at the stutter. you never stutter!

"okay, let me know when you're nearly here," he says unsure.

"mhm, bye," you say, motioning for mindy to hang up.

"girl that wasn't smooth. he knows something is up," she flat out tells you.

"you're not helping," you grumble.

-while the three minutes tick away mindy forces you to sit and have a chat. she asks if you’ve talked to han about a future together. marriage and kids and the whole deal. she asks what you want to do if the result comes back positive. she’s cool being the fun cool aunt but if you don’t want to go through with it she’ll be your confidant and drive you to the clinic.

-once your phone alarm goes off you walk into the bathroom alone. with a racing heart you turn on the phone to record yourself because be damned you don't have this reaction to show han later. baby or not.

-one test after another you turn them around with shaky hands and they all say the same thing, p o s i t i v e

-you sob not out of sadness but overwhelmed. this is so messy. you just got the restaurant running, you're not married and you are expecting a baby. the only thing that seems right is that it's the love of your life's baby.

-you step out the bathroom ten long minutes after. with one look mindy knows all she has to know. she helps you finish getting ready, puts drops in your eyes to reduce the redness and drives you over to han. on the way out you give yourself a look in the mirror but you look just the same. you're only a couple of weeks along it would be crazy to see a difference so soon but you already know everything is different.

-mindy drops you off after hyping you up all the way to your destination.

"thanks for bringing her," han says, helping you out the suv.

"anytime, she might have her license but there’s no way i’m letting her drive." she jokes at your expense.

"i’m not that bad a driver. you just don’t let me practice," you defend yourself.

-han grabs your hand and your bag and walks you to the front door, you can hear music and chatter from his friends. but he stops before going on.

-he asks if you’re okay. and you tell him you’re nervous, a half lie. han nods in understanding. ‘they’ll love you, baby.’

-he kisses your lips lightly before opening the door because he hasn’t seen you all day and he missed you. but of course roman pierce has to interrupt. he opens the door, interrupting their moment, ‘aye! she's here han is hogging her.’

-roman insists he knows japanese and tries greeting you using the language. you respond fully in japanese just to fuck with him, even adding the bow in your greeting. he bows back and just stares back with an empty smile. he did not understand a word you just said.

-han pushes past him and leads you to where everyone is gathered. he introduces you to everyone and you say 'hi, it's nice to finally meet all you. i've heard so much!'

roman stands besides han with a scowl and whispers. ‘man you could’ve told me she speaks english.’

-you are received with open arms as han introduces you to everyone that came along. dominic, letty, mia, brian, tej, roman, ramsey and all of their kids. it’s nice to be able to place faces to the names you’ve heard for the last two years.

-with you now present they ask all about how you and han met, eager to view your perspective. you respond as much as you can, laughing at the quirky remarks the others throw. they tease han like never before and he deserves it because he went MIA for three years.

-it's enough to make you forget momentarily about the pregnancy tests in your overnight bag. until letty offers you a beer, you pause but react quick enough where no one notices your hesitation. you'll just have to sneak your way around this one.

-han is a lot more reserved around the toretto crew than when he's around sean or twinkie. there's no big in-your-face make out sessions or random gropes of your ass. he respects the crew to much to subject them to that.

-doesn't mean he's not constantly attached to you. throughout the night han has his arm around your shoulders or his hand pressed on the small of your back. it helps a lot ease your nerves when facing the room of friendly strangers.

-eventually the subject of your restaurant comes up. you barely get the name out when ramsey squeals in excitement. turns out she's a big foodie with an instagram account and on her to-do list for japan is visiting your restaurant. she didn't know you were the same person until now. 'you're all welcome whenever you'd like. i'm there most of the week,' you tell the bunch.

-as the hours go by the crew starts turning in for the night. han pulls you up from the couch you were sitting on and guides you to a room.

"what did you think?" han asks as you both change into your pajamas.

"you were right they are all very welcoming. even if i have only known them for a few hours i see you guys have a very familial relationship."

you sit on the edge of the bed with your head hanging. the weight of your secret is crushing you down, your stomach has been swirling since you and han retreated to the bedroom.

han stands in front of you, tilting your head up to look at him. his eyes are soft as he rubs his thumb across your cheek. "what's wrong, baby?"

"'you love me, right?" your eyes fill with tears. suddenly feeling an unreasonable fear in the pit of your stomach. han has shown you more than enough times how much he loves you.

"more than anyone i have ever loved," he assures you. han is concerned. you've never been overly emotional and nothing has happened that he's aware off.

you hug him by the waist, burying your head on his stomach. he hugs you back, holding your head and running a hand up and down your back.

you pull back from his embrace, wiping your tears and some snot and manage to hiccup your news, 'hannie, i-i'm pregnant.'

han freezes momentarily. he thinks he heard you incorrectly but he couldn't have. your words were clear. leaning down in front of you so he's level with your- still not showing-belly he gasps, "we're having a baby?"

-one nod of yours causes a tsunami of questions. when did you find out? how? are you happy? how far along? boy or girl?

-han is over the moon. he is taken aback by just how happy he feels. he wants this but he thought it wouldn't happen for another year or two. the baby is more than welcome though.

-just earlier today he had been thinking about having kids with you as he watched the o'conner and toretto children run around.

-with both of your emotions running high han pulls you close and kisses you like never before. he takes you to bed and fucks you hard and deep and slow. him on top of you, never ceasing his attack on your lips. whenever he does it’s to tell you he loves you and how happy you’ve made him. it's like he wants to get you pregnant all over again.

-'wait, is that why you were switching our beers earlier?' han asks when you’re laying in bed, your head on his chest. you laugh at his question, having forgotten your attempts at not drinking alcohol.

-at around 4 am you and han sneak to the kitchen where you make a snack. you were starving and so was han. he sits you on the kitchen counter as you eat. he stands between your thighs speaking softly about future plans with your baby now included in them.

-'it's 4 am, don't you two sleep?' its tej who came downstairs for water. he shakes his head in disapproval at the two of you going back to his bedroom once he got his water.

-letty is the one to bring up the happiness that oozes out of you and han the following days, 'you two look awfully happy.'

"got some good news the other day," han softly drawls, "you want to tell them?"

you're sitting on his lap with his hand wrapped around your waist as you nod, "we're expecting a little lue."

-the crew is nearly as happy as the two of you. they congratulate the both of you. the girls whipping you away from han to ask all the questions and give you any advice you might need. the guys tease han about not wasting any time with you.

-han is surprised yet not because you two go at it like rabbits. he's surprised he didn't get you knocked up before then. your birth control must've given up.

-han is happy, he is content, he is satisfied. you're pregnant and having his baby. the crew visiting tokyo only amplified his joy. not even roman's teasing put a dent on him.

-as he's talking to dom, brian and tej a question comes up. is han going to ask you to marry him? his response is simple. no. or at least not yet. he doesn't want to ask you to marry him just because he knocked you up. when he asks he wants you to be sure that it's because he wants it too. and he does want it right now, he adores you. the baby only put his plans to propose on pause. he knows you're the one for him, he's known for a while and he's in no rush.

-his life has consisted about running and races and winning. but with you it's different. he feels like he can slow down and take things at his own leisure pace. make things right and give you everything you deserve.

-you've never called han daddy. it's not your kink and you don't think it's his either considering he hasn't asked you to call him that. now that you're expecting you have teasingly been calling him that. he finds it endearing to say the least.

he passes you something across the table? 'thanks daddy'

'can daddy do the dishes?'

'mommy has a craving for rocky road ice cream, do you think daddy will be good and get some for me baby?' you ask looking down at your belly.

-pregnancy is not kind to you at first. in the first trimester, everything you eat ends up flushed down the toilet. you're miserable. han sympathizes with you and helps you out as much as he can. holds your hair back, rubs your back, prepares your toothbrush, etc.

-because of all the puking you barely show at first until suddenly you popped and the nausea stopped in the second trimester. that's when you started noticing the pregnancy glow and felt cute enough to highlight your bump with your clothes.

-han is obsessed with it. each night when he goes to sleep he puts a hand on your bump and talks to the baby. whether you're asleep or not. he'll rub his hand on your stomach soothing any pain or nausea you might feel.

-han goes with you to each and every doctors appointment. he doesn't dare miss one. he loves when the doctor sets up the ultrasound and the baby starts shaping up and taking form as the weeks go by.

-han keeps a picture of an ultrasound in his car. along with one of you two. it's everything he loves all in one place.

-han is the first to feel the baby kick surprisingly. it's one of those nights he returned home from the races. he settled in bed and touched your growing belly. it's slick from all the oils and lotions you apply to try and prevent stretch marks. then he feels it a small 'thud' he thinks he imagines it, until it happens again.

"baby, wake up," he softly calls you, rousing you from sleep.

"what's wrong, hannie?" you mutter with your eyes still closed.

"the baby is kicking," he whispers, grabbing your hand and placing it where he felt the kick. his hand over yours.

"no, it's no- oh my god, it is," you shiver finding the sensation a bit strange at first. you spend the next hour just waiting to feel the baby kick again.

-when you tell your parents you're pregnant they become the most doting grandparents ever. they start buying everything and anything they can get their hands on. it's their first grandchild and most of their friends already have grandchildren. they want to be the best. plus, they feel like they owe it to you for what they did.

-although han's apartment is bigger than yours you don't believe it's big enough for a baby. you spend months apartment hunting until you find the perfect place. a three bedroom, two bathroom penthouse.

-you insisted it was too much space but han reassured you it's not. because he wants more children and he doesn't want to move again when you have another baby. your words were:

'give me a break hannie, i haven't even pushed the first out. let's see how it goes."

-with pregnancy a woman goes through many changes. besides your bump han's favorite is still your tits which have grown larger. he notices that change instantly, but with each gain there is a loss. the piercings had to go. you also tease han that now he'll have to share.

-not surprisingly pregnancy does a number on you and you get hornier than ever. it's like constantly ovulating and having to be pounded. which doesn't make sense cause you're already pregnant.

-it's not something han finds himself complaining about. it's fun to explore the changes your body is going through and how the sensations shift. like how your nipples get very sensitive in your pregnancy and how han takes advantage of that.

-you go on a journey of finding your self-love once more. the changes your body go through are out of your control, they are necessary to sustain the life inside of you and yet some made you insecure.

-the love you felt for your bump at first then made you insecure as it grew larger and stretch marks decorated it. you're not used to the sight. sure you've always had some faded ones on your thighs or your boobs but you've had them for so long you got used to them. these were long and red and they made you cry.

-for about a week you felt so insecure and looked for ways around being intimate with han because if you hate them surely he will too.

"lets get this off, baby," han says, pulling up your silky night dress up your thighs.

"no, no, let's keep it on," you laugh it off, holding hans hands with yours.

"alright, what's going on?" he asks, leaving his hands on your thighs and squeezing them lovingly.

"what do you mean?" you feign innocence.

"baby, don't think i haven't noticed you've been covering up and acting strange."

you avoid his gaze but he cups your cheek and returns it back to his. "i'm scared you won't like the way i look now," you mutter.

"are you joking? i've never liked the way you looked more than i do now," he speaks without any hesitation.

"really?" you peer up at him through your lashes.

"oh yeah. i think this is the sexiest you've ever looked. you're carrying my baby, how can i not like the body that's helping it grow and keeping it safe? And you know i love how much more responsive and sensitive you've gotten."

"oh god, you've made me even hornier," you say, pulling him down to kiss him.

"and you're glowing and look so cute waddling around the house," he teases, breaking the kiss.

"i do not waddle!" yes. you, in fact, do.

-han is always asking for the baby to kick, those lazy morning spent in bed, he'll have a hand on your belly talking to the it.

"come on kid, kick for daddy"

"let them be, it's not your bladder they're kicking"

he softly apologizes, knowing that as the day gets nearer the more trips to the bathroom you make.

-han dotes on you every second of every day, he barely leaves your side. you need something to drink or eat? he'll get it. your feet hurt? hell massage them. get cravings? he'll make a trip to the convenience store.

-as a couple you decided to keep the gender of the baby a surprise. which just led to the two of you to place bets on what's it gonna be. han swears you're hanging low (whatever that means) so you'll be having a boy and because of your morning sickness you think it's a girl.

-realistically both you and han are fine with either one. which is why you'll be trying for another one when the time comes. if it turns out the same gender you'll try for a third, but that's all! if all three turn out the same, tough luck!

-you go into a small crisis thinking you'll never be able to wear your short dresses and skirts. you're going to be a mom surely you'll have to dress like one? han assures you you can wear whatever you want because he knows you'll be a good mom, which is all that matters. plus, he likes seeing you wear that type of clothes.

-han invests in another car. one he never though of having. a toyota sienna le. it's a minivan. always one for cars, han details it, adds leather seat covers, a few cool features and an overly complicated car seat.

-as your due date nears you spend more and more time in bed with han, having sex obviously. you had read somewhere it was good for contractions and when you go into labor. plus, you just had these boosts of energy and it was the only way to get you to sleep.

-han eventually stops working for takashi. more people are at risk now if he continues. takashi lets him go without much trouble. han did help him expand his business a lot quicker had he done it by himself.

-when the time comes to give birth, han races to the hospital in his new minivan. finds it stressful cause the thing can't go as fast as his precious mazda. but he makes it to the hospital in record time.

-your doctor is waiting for you, they have a room prepared for you. han stays by your side through it all even as you curse him out through your pain. your labor is long and painful being a first time mom and all.

-at some point you start crying that you can't do it and han is there to wipe your tears away and tell you you can. it's holding his hand that you push and push. he doesn't whine or complain once, ignoring the insults you throw at him and the pain in his hand.

-then it happens, a cry resonates through the room and your hand stops squeezing his. the nurse places your baby on your chest. it has a full head of dark hair already.

"it's a girl," the nurse coo's.

-han didn't think he'd be able to love someone as much as he loves you. he's proven wrong as he softly touches his baby girls head. she's slimey and a little ugly (being a newborn and all) but this emotion swells his chest and tears well up in his eyes.

-you softly call out his name and he looks at you and just says, 'i love you.’

-to make up for your pain han gets you a push gift. it's a pretty golden necklace. it has a thin chain and a pendant with a little gem, behind the pendant the initial of your baby girls name is engraved. it has enough space to add when your family expands eventually.

-fatherhood suits him. he's patient and soft spoken and baby girl adores him. han is a night owl so he has no problem getting up at night to feed his baby girl or change her diaper.

-it takes time to adapt and start feeling like yourself again but han makes it easy for you. he loves you no matter what and does everything possible to make the transition a smoother one. you gave him everything he wanted and more.

-you left the restaurant in good hands while you rode out the last month of your pregnancy and the first two postpartum. returning to work felt good. you love baby girl but getting out the house without puke on your shoulder was necessary.

-han stays with her during the morning embracing being a stay at home dad. granted he slips out now and then to the races or to hang out at the garage. in fact, when baby girl is older he sets up an area just for her.

-sean and twinkie make fun of him and his minivan. to which han threatens to kick them out the garage they don't even have to pay for.

-when your baby girl is almost 1 year old, he pops the question. it was date night, your parents were taking care of the baby. he picked you up in his orange mazda that just so happened matched your nails. you were back to wearing your usual dresses and sparkly heels. although you were rebuilding the confidence you had two years ago.

he took you to dinner and then dessert and then you walked through a park. it's cherry blossom season you had to make the most of it. that's when he does it. under the rain of sakura flowers he asked his question.

"will you marry me, baby?" han asks, down in one knee.

"i thought you would never ask," you cry out, extending your hand so he can slip the ring on your finger.

"that's not an answer," he teases, before he slides the ring on your finger.

"yes! it's a yes!"

finally he puts the ring on your finger and it's just like you'd imagine it to be.

-you have your ceremony not even a year after. the toretto crew comes back to japan. even hans family (that you've only met like twice in four years) attends. your family and friends are invited as well. mindy is your maid of honor and your baby girl the ring bearer.

-it's on your honeymoon, that is really more like a family vacation because baby girl is with you, that you tell han a little secret.

'We're having another baby!'

a/n:

if you’d like to scream at me or cry with me about the headcanons feel free to send me a message through the asks! i didn't think before making this blog a sideblog so i can't answer comments from this account but from my main.

lol in case you didn't catch that i'd like to make a mini series of sorts of han with his baby girl. i've got ideas floating around so if it's something you'd be interested in let me know!

also been thinking of making a brian o'connor one shot or something cause those baby blues are irresistible.

bye!

#fanfiction #han lue #fast and furious fanfiction #han lue fanfiction #han lue imagines #han seoul oh #han lue x reader #han lue smut #han lue headcanons

[gimmethatagustd]

who's your bias? | kth

Everyone says idols shouldn’t date their fans. Little did you know the crazy sasaengs aren't the ones who might ruin your relationship. It might just be your boyfriend's best friends.

» pairing: idol!taehyung x music producer girlfriend!reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | idol au | established relationship | fluffy smut | lil bit of angst | an attempt at army-specific humor

» wc/date: 12.6k | January 2023

» warnings: canon divergent (i'm just making shit up y'all, as usual) | jealousy | relationship insecurity | reader might seem annoying at first but i swear it gets cute very quickly | tae enjoys using terms of endearment | soft!dom tae | finger sucking | thigh riding | tae's got a Big Dick, but what else is new? | blowjob | fingering | unprotected vaginal sex | overstimulation | a breeding kink is ~hinted at~ | cunnilingus | yoonmin4ever

» notes: this was entirely self-indulgent 😂 i hope my taehyung whores enjoy my first idol au oneshot. also i wrote 80% of this while i was high and with no beta so if it's bad, now you know why

» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

» what was jai listening to? impatient - jeremih ft. ty dolla $ign

“Y/N, stop it right now.” 

Your boyfriend breathes the command faster than you can even open your mouth to greet him. With a roll of your eyes, you put your phone on speaker and sit it on the floor beside you. Rummaging through the cardboard boxes littering your apartment is easier done with both hands. 

“Why hello, Taehyung. What a pleasure to hear from you.”

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” From the whine in his voice you’re positive he’s wearing a deep pout, bottom lip jutting out as far as it can. You love kissing his pouts away. 

But not this time! And not just because you’re on opposite sides of the world. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s so late there and I’m sure you’re very tired from displaying your dick to all of America for three hours.” 

The cardboard box in front of you has “BEDROOM” scribbled in your father’s handwriting on the side in thick, black Sharpie. It’s full of little trinkets and random decor. A Shooky plushie is crammed into the corner in between a cracked Army bomb and a small framed photo of you with your parents. You smile to yourself despite your boyfriend’s huffing over the phone. Your father had given you a strange look as he helped you pack the items as if to ask, Really? Do you really need these? 

Just because you’re dating a member of BTS now doesn’t mean you can’t cherish your old BTS merch! It’s not weird, in your opinion. It would only be weird if you made it weird. And you weren’t making it weird. 

“I did not display my dick!” 

You roll your eyes for probably the fifth time while you ponder where to put Shooky. You'd kept it on your dresser in your old home in the States. Something tells you Taehyung won’t appreciate the lack of a Tata beside it. 

“You were thrusting and throwing it around! And pointing at it while doing it, too!” 

“Y/N!” 

“Don’t Y/N me! I have my TikTok evidence!” 

With your cracked Army bomb in hand, you open the app in question, scrolling through your favorited videos until you get to the one. The one uploaded only a day before. The one you’d texted to Taehyung which prompted his immediate phone call. 

“And what does the caption say?” you ask but then cut Taehyung off before he can answer the question. “It says, and I quote, ‘I will never forget Taehyung doing this. I looped this for hours. Kim Taehyung lives in my head rent-free.’ Hashtag Taehyung. Hashtag HipsDon’tLie. With the woozy face emoji. And do we need to discuss the music choice?” 

“Y/N, can you please-” 

“Slut Me Out,” you deadpan in a monotone voice. “That is the song they chose for you.”

The other end is silent for so long you start to feel bad. Every time your jealousy spikes, you seem to act on impulse rather than thinking through how you might make Taehyung feel. Yes, he sometimes plays his part in the group a little too well, but you also knew that this was his job. It’s his job to make people get excited - excited for the music, the group, and himself as an idol. 

Still, your opinion is the most important to him, and you know that. 

“Jagiya…” Taehyung sniffles and you feel your heart shatter. 

Fuck, you really are a bitch, aren’t you? 

“Tae, I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know, I didn’t really think anything of it. It’s just an act, y’know?” 

You did know. Away from the stage and the cameras, Taehyung is quiet, almost shy. He’s happy to be a silent observer of whatever chaos his members create. He gifts everyone with puffy cheeks and boxy grins, sometimes a boisterous laugh that manages to make your heart soar every time. But the soft-spoken soul you listen to old school R&B with while you smoke strawberry swisher blunts on the balcony late into the night, and convince that yes, the apartment is soundly built and no, the balcony will not randomly fall out beneath you… That person is different from the person you see wearing a resting bitch face in interviews or the person who chews away at imaginary gum during concerts. 

You find all versions of Taehyung endearing, although the fake gum chewing is kind of embarrassing if you wanted to be perfectly honest. 

“I know, Tae. I’m sorry I’m being judgmental for no reason,” you insist and you hope he believes you. Complaints about his idol status typically resulted in red eyes and sniffles, yet sometimes you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing his pressure points despite his sensitivity.  

Your apology puts Taehyung in a better mood because his following comment is cheekier than you expect. 

“You get jealous a lot, jagi.” His smug tone is close to bringing back your irritation. 

“I am not jealous of some fans in a stadium, thanks.” 

“Good,” he says more cheerfully. “‘Cause I only have sights for you.” 

That makes you laugh and you feel your earlier heaviness disappear. “You mean, you only have eyes for me?” 

“Isn’t that what I said?” 

You shake your head as if Taehyung can see you. A few photo strips are beneath Shooky in the cardboard box. You silently curse your father (respectfully and endearingly) for casually placing something so fragile in the bottom of a box. The photos are of you and Taehyung in a photo booth at a birthday party for an idol you didn’t know. An actor, you think. You thumb at one of the corners of the photo strip that has curled inward. Taehyung’s hair was straight then, and short, falling just above his ears. You much prefer the thick waves he wears now. 

“You’re so cute.” 

“Only for you.” 

“Oh shut up, now you’re being corny.” 

You’re not sure why, but you try to suppress the smile Taehyung’s light flirting coaxes out of you, even though he can’t see you. Accepting his teasing affection has always been hard for you. All the boys are too caring; it makes you uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. You’re just not used to men acting like that. They’re all very different from the men you’ve been around growing up. There’s a reason Taehyung can’t listen to you talk about your ex-boyfriends without getting pissed. 

“Mmm, maybe. I’m also sleepy,” Taehyung slurs. His voice is so soft you almost can’t hear him, so you lift your phone to your ear rather than use the speaker setting. The smoothness feels like a lullaby gentle enough to carry you to sleep, even though it’s still daylight in Seoul. 

“Goodnight, Kim.” You decide for him, knowing he would stay on the phone if you let him. 

Confirming your thoughts, Taehyung grumbles when he speaks next. “I love you, jagi.” 

“I love you, too.” People always talk about the “honeymoon phase” when the butterflies disappear and couples no longer feel the exciting draw toward each other anymore. It’s been less than a year since you started dating Taehyung, but you’re confident that your heart will always flutter when you hear those three words so confidently spoken. Taehyung had been the first to say it; something about that makes you even more sure of your relationship. 

“Can’t wait to see you soon so I can slut you out.” 

“... please go to bed and never say that ever again.” 

In the distance, you hear someone start yelling. The noise is accompanied by a rather aggressive ruffling sound, as though Taehyung’s phone is being rubbed against fabric. 

“Are you two having phone sex?” The second voice accuses, this time sounding much clearer. 

“Hyung, leave me alone,” Taehyung whines. “Y/N, tell him to go away.” 

You let out a long sigh, but the grin finally cuts through the hardened expression you try to maintain. “Goodnight, Jimin.” 

It sounds like the two boys start physically fighting each other before Taehyung lets out a breathy, “Goodnight, baby,” accompanied by Jimin screeching something you can’t understand before the call ends. 

With a shake of your head, you leave your phone on the floor and get up to position Shooky and your Army bomb on your dresser. You’ll figure out what to do with it later, you decide.

Later ends up being three more days of you giving a half-assed attempt to sort through the boxes. Your bedroom is mostly organized by the end of the week with only one more box remaining, shoved into the corner of the room. It’s a bunch of family keepsakes that will make you cry if you start looking at them. 

Right now you want to make a beeline to the kitchen. 

It’s hard not to trip over all the boxes that litter your apartment, most of them already torn open and half-empty. The kitchen hasn’t been fully unpacked, either, so you opt for instant ramen in the microwave rather than dig for utensils to cook a proper meal. It’s pretty bad. You and Taehyung are a terrible match; you both have no idea how to cook. There’s no point in all the fancy kitchenware your parents bought you. You’ll never master any of it. It’s not because you don’t put in any effort, like Taehyung. You’re genuinely shit at cooking. 

And baking? That’s even worse. 

You stand in the middle of your living room while you shovel ramen in your mouth. It’s too hot, so you inhale loudly through your teeth to cool the food off before it scorches your throat. There’s so much you need to do, and it’s making you nauseous thinking about it. Somewhere in the mix of boxes are your Hangeul textbooks that you should be studying in your free time instead of playing video games and video chatting with your friends. It’s only been a week and a half, but you already feel lonely without the constant presence of your friends and family. The boys have been on tour the entire time. Namjoon decided you moving to Seoul while they’re on tour would make your arrival less suspicious, and everyone would be more focused on the tour than whatever an unknown American music producer is doing. 

In your opinion, Namjoon was overthinking the whole thing as he is wont to do. But you let him be bossy because you know his heart is in the right place. It’s not like the public knows you’re dating Taehyung. There hasn’t been any press or rumors about you at all. You’re genuinely unknown.

You prefer it that way. 

Your fork scrapes the bottom of the bowl and you realize you’ve scarfed down the ramen without much thought. You suppose it’s easier to do that when you aren’t using chopsticks. (You’ve managed to master them, for the most part, but you prefer to fall back on forks when you’re alone at home.) 

You place the bowl on top of the large cardboard box in front of the couch. It has the pieces for your coffee table inside, but you haven’t had the energy to put it together yet. The part of you that allows your feminism to leave your body whenever the boys are around is kind of hoping you can get one of them to build it for you. Maybe Yoongi. He’s into that kind of stuff. 

With a sigh, you flop onto the couch and slip your phone out of your back pocket. A few Whatsapp and KakaoTalk notifications light up the screen. You used to be terrible at responding to texts, but moving halfway across the world has made you a better texter. It’s a way to fill the loneliness. 

[Alex] hey bitch

[Alex] this 15 hour time difference sucks ass

[You] I’m sorry 

[Alex] its fine. i’ll forgive you for chasing money and dick

[You] I’m not chasing dick omg

[Alex] dont lie

[Alex] whats that tiffany pollard meme

[You] Stop

[Alex] i know his dick is big. i know it! i know it’s big!

[You] I hate you

[Alex] you didnt deny it. anywayyy did you see this? 

As much as you adore Alex, she’s an expert at getting under your skin. You remind yourself that it’s all harmless as you click on the link she texts you. 

BTS' V woos fans with his casual rockstar visuals on his return from world tour

Kim Taehyung, also known professionally as V of BTS, was spotted at John F. Kennedy International Airport on Friday. The singer is reportedly returning early to South Korea ahead of his band members after completing the final performance of their…   

You don’t know why you read the shitty k-pop tabloids. You figure it’s the same reason why people make a hobby out of watching bad movies. There’s a weird itch in the back of your brain that can’t be scratched unless you open the link Alex texts you— teasingly, of course, because she thinks she’s being funny. Your friends don’t understand the nauseous feeling you get when you scroll through the article and accidentally click on a link that takes you to an external website flaunting doctored photos of your boyfriend with Jennie Kim. 

BTS’ V and BLACKPINK’s Jennie Spend Romantic Weekend in Paris 

You know it’s a lie because the weekend in question was the same weekend Taehyung flew you to Seoul to do a final walkthrough of your apartment before you signed off on it. Taehyung spent every second of that weekend by your side. 

The article makes you sick anyway. 

You’re so caught up in trying to craft a text to Alex to explain why she needs to leave you the fuck alone that you don’t hear the sound of your apartment’s front door open over the music you’re listening to. 

“I’m gone for a few months and I come home to you listening to some other band?” 

“Holy shit, Tae, you can’t do that to me,” you yelp when Taehyung leans over the back of the couch to hover over your shoulder. 

“Explain yourself.” His voice is warm honey and milk even when his strong eyebrows point downward in mock disappointment. The expression is almost convincing, his naturally sharp features making conjuring up a dark appearance easier. 

“You can’t tell me Stray Kids’ new album isn’t good.” 

“Jagiya, I just got home,” Taehyung whines. “Kiss me and stop thirsting over Australian boys.” 

He touches your chin to tip your head backward. You lean your head against the back of the couch and look up at him. The position makes you think of the iconic Spiderman kiss, seeing Taehyung’s face upside down above yours. 

“Y’know, I worked on a few of their songs. Before I met you.” 

The confession is meant to tease him for making fun of your music choice. Of course, words’ impact often diverges from intent. It’s in the twist of his face and the way he pulls back slightly just before his lips brush against yours that you know you’ve made him jealous. 

“Oh did you?” His hair hangs around his face as he leans over you.

“Mhm, Bang Chan’s accent is really cu—” 

You shouldn’t be shocked when strong hands squeeze your waist and Taehyung hauls you off the couch to stand in front of him. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you tightly against his chest. 

“You didn’t work with any other groups before us, okay?” 

You purse your lips to hold in the laughter that threatens to explode from your chest. All you can do is nod in agreement. It reminds you of girls getting upset when they remember their boyfriends dated other people before them. 

“Good.” 

Taehyung dips his head down to connect his lips with yours. The closeness of his body forces you to inhale his cologne and feel goosebumps travel down your arms. It’s been months since you’ve so much as held Taehyung’s hand and you feel like you’ve been starved. Your body trembles so severely that you dig your nails into his biceps to hold yourself upright. You moan into his mouth, already open and ready for you because Taehyung is nothing but giving. 

The kiss isn’t bruising, not yet. It’s slow and deep. Taehyung takes his time reminding himself of your taste. You grip the nape of his neck to pull him down as you meet him by standing on your tiptoes. His height has always been one of your favorite aspects of his physical appearance. Dark, watchful eyes that pierce into your soul might be at the top of the list. 

His tongue swirls around yours, only retreating to suck your bottom lip into his mouth. His teeth graze along the plump skin, each nibble making you dizzy in the head. You normally hate wet kisses, but there’s something satisfying about seeing Taehyung’s lips pink and shiny with your spit when he finally pulls away. Pride thrums in your chest; you did that. You made his tan skin flush pink. You made his eyes dark and sharp. You made his breathing ragged and desperate. 

And, fuck, does it feel good. 

You run your fingers along his sharp jawline and watch the muscles flex beneath his taunt skin. “Don’t clench your jaw like that. It’s not good for you,” you muse, allowing your fingers to skim over his Adam’s apple. 

“I’m trying to stay calm.” 

Your eyebrows fly up with concern. “What’s wrong?” 

“Wanna bend you over the couch and fuck you until you can’t walk,” Taehyung says with such a gentle tone that the stark difference between what he says and how he says it has your body trembling once again. 

You inhale sharply and let your hand fall from his throat. Instead, you reach for the lapels of his leather jacket and squeeze them. 

“Why don’t you?” 

You can’t look at him when you ask. Even though you’ve been dating for almost a year, Taehyung still intimidates the hell out of you sometimes. The darkness of his eyes when he gets horny sends you reeling. You’re sure if you look up, you’ll see The Look. He stares at you unabashedly with an expression of desire so strong you feel like he might consume you just by looking at you.

“You haven’t eaten yet and I need to take a shower.” 

“How do you know I haven’t eaten yet?” With a pout, you finally dare to look your boyfriend in the face. The way he gapes at you is judgmental and doesn’t make you feel devour-worthy at all. 

“I know you,” he scoffs. “You’re just like Jimin. I bet you haven’t even been awake more than two hours.” 

Barely a year into your relationship and he’s already reading you like an open book. You can’t stay salty about it when his bread cheeks come out and he’s giggling at the frustrated “hmph” you let out. 

“I’ll be fast,” he promises with a smirk that collapses into another fit of giggles. The hearty slap on your ass encourages you toward the kitchen while Taehyung makes his way to the bathroom. 

You did already eat, but today is an outlier. Normally, you are like Jimin, staying up too late and sleeping in longer than everyone else. And sometimes you’re like Yoongi, too. You get so caught up in the songs you’re working on that you forget to stop to eat or pee or look somewhere other than at a computer screen. 

The move to Seoul threw you off your usual work schedule. Everything you need to get done is looming over your head like a dark cloud. If Namjoon comes back before you finish editing the English lyrics of his upcoming single, you might die of embarrassment, no matter how many times Taehyung insists that Namjoon won’t be disappointed. 

Taehyung wasn’t lying about being quick. He’s wearing a white cotton t-shirt and grey sweatpants when he returns, hair damp and swept away from his face. You’re still standing at the fridge, painfully aware of how little food you have. Plenty of grapefruit soju, though. Priorities. 

“Do you want ramen?” You eventually ask. When Taehyung doesn’t respond, you turn to give him a sheepish smile. He probably thinks you’re ridiculous. 

Taehyung is sitting at the kitchen table with your phone in his hands. His eyebrows scrunch together and he turns to you with narrowed eyes. 

“Why were you looking at this?” 

He lifts your phone in your direction. The doctored photos of him and Jennie glare back at you. You feel your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.  

“Tae, I didn’t—” You snap your mouth shut because, honestly, it looks bad. It looks bad no matter how you explain yourself because Taehyung’s bottom lip is already quivering and you know you’re both replaying the stupid TikTok phone call in your heads right now. 

The two of you stare at each other for only god knows how long. You’re the first to break; not many people can hold their own in a staring contest with Kim Taehyung. Yoongi is probably the only one. Jungkook would give a valiant effort, but he’d ultimately crumble in a fit of nervous giggles. Taehyung is scary when he wants to be. 

Dating Taehyung started as an unbelievably exciting experience. You had your brush with fame before meeting the boys, but Taehyung was the first idol to give you genuine attention beyond whatever job needed to be done. Not that you’d ever sought it out; you had more dignity than that. No, Taehyung pursued you. Who could blame you when you fell head over heels for the sinfully gorgeous man who seemed larger than life? The long legs, big hands, and chiseled features were dangerous enough. Throw in a glowing personality, quirky sense of humor, and a big-hearted desire to care for others and you had a man who was too good to be true. 

And who are you? Some dumb American kid with average looks, a standoff personality as a result of having a bit of social anxiety (and trouble acclimating to a new country), and a penchant for fucking things up. Maybe it was your fault for not seriously considering how hard it was going to be to date an idol.  

“C’mere, jagi,” Taehyung murmurs, beckoning you. 

You expected waterworks— hell, you’re ready to start crying yourself. Instead, Taehyung wears a tired but soft smile. He holds your waist as you climb into his lap, straddling him. He wiggles a little in the chair to adjust you more comfortably on his thighs. 

“Koreaboo, really?” He gathers your face in his hands, thumbs running across your cheeks. His hands are soft and you regret not washing your face when you woke up. Sometimes it’s not fun to date someone as beautiful as Taehyung. 

“It was an accident.” 

You avoid his gaze, but Taehyung coaxes you back to look him in the eyes. It’s hard. There’s so much passion swimming in them. He blinks up at you with an earnestness that makes your heart ache because you’re always the one causing problems. 

“They could have at least used better pictures of me,” he complains with an exaggerated pout. 

“Maybe I’ll send them some from my private collection.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Taehyung grins as he threatens you, so you grin back. 

“Oh, I dare.” 

Quick fingers dig into your sides and you let out an embarrassing squeal. Taehyung doesn’t let up on tickling you until you’ve got tears in your eyes and your threats to elbow him in the face start sounding a bit too real. 

“Please don’t torture yourself with shit like that, okay?” He mumbles the request into your neck because your arms are thrown around his shoulders. 

You slide your fingers into his hair to cradle his head against your chest. When you dig your nails into his scalp he lets out a low groan. Nothing about the position you’re in is sexual, but you’re quickly reminded that this is the most skin-on-skin contact you’ve had with your boyfriend in months. With that fact in mind, you don’t feel bad when you scoot further into his lap and squeeze his thighs with your own. 

“Tae?” 

“Hmm?” When he tilts his head back to look up at you, he’s got that spacey, blissed-out look on his face. 

“Tell me you love me.” You place your finger against the little freckle on the tip of his nose.

The slow, boxy grin is almost better than hearing the words. Your finger migrates to touch the freckle on his lip. 

“I love you with all my heart.” He punctuates the confession with a kiss on the tip of your finger. “Your turn.” 

You roll your eyes, but it’s the reaction he’s looking for. 

“I love you, too. You dork.” 

“So romantic,” he laughs, but the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he watches you with lust darker than what consumed his expression earlier. 

You sit with your breath burning in your lungs as Taehyung slips his hands beneath your baggy t-shirt. His smooth palms slide up your rib cage until he reaches your tits, palming one in each hand. The tilt of his chin tells you he wants another kiss, and who are you to deny him what he wants? You dig your nails in his hair harder while you kiss him, tugging to angle his head in the direction you want. Small moments like this give the appearance that you’re in control. And Taehyung loves domming while you both pretend you’re the one in charge.

He pulls back with a wet smack. If it was anyone else, you’d be ashamed of the whimper that sounds from your throat as Taehyung removes his hands from your shirt. You grip his hair tighter, but Taehyung just chuckles. 

“So needy. What am I going to do with you?” 

You could give him a couple of ideas. There isn’t time, though. Taehyung is already grasping your chin and tilting it down. 

“Open up for me, okay?” 

Your cheeks grow hot as you open your mouth. You already know where this is going, so you stick out your tongue. Still, it’s difficult not to squirm when Taehyung presses his index and middle fingers flat against the wet muscle. 

“Suck.” 

You swallow around his fingers, sucking as best you can as he begins to thrust them into your mouth. It’s vulgar, the wet suctioning sound of his fingers dragging against your tongue. In and out, a steady pace that doesn’t go too fast. Taehyung has such long, gorgeous fingers. You quite enjoy when he wrecks your insides with them until you’re on the brink of tears. Which you’ve come to find is something Taehyung thoroughly enjoys doing. 

“You miss having your pretty mouth stuffed?”

You know any attempt at a spoken response will come out as a garbled mess. You whimper, eyes fluttering closed as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. You push your tongue in between his fingers and curl around them. 

“Gonna suck my cock like this, jagi?” He purrs the question, ending it so breathy it’s almost a moan as he eases over the term of endearment. “Show me how much you miss me, hm?” 

Maybe it’s the deep, sensual way he purrs jagi with heavy eyelids and that crooked smirk on his face. Maybe it’s because he bites his lip when he says it or that he lets his lip go with such slowness that you can see the way his teeth scrape across his plump bottom lip as it falls back into place. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s shoving his fingers just a bit deeper into your mouth. Maybe it’s all of these things that make you shift so that you can press your clothed pussy against Taehyung’s thigh. 

He flexes the muscle as you start rutting against it, rolling your hips to the rhythm of his fingers gliding in and out of your mouth. 

“Look at you.” His lips brush against the curve of your ear, sending a shiver down your back. “So desperate for me that you’re going to get off on only my thighs?” 

You’re not the type to be able to orgasm just from rutting and friction like this, but Taehyung has managed to learn your body faster than you ever expected. He slips his free hand beneath the waistband of your leggings and underwear. It’s the quick circling of his thumb against your throbbing clit combined with the rutting of your hips that sends you over the edge. 

“That’s it, baby, you did so well,” Taehyung whispers praise against the skin his lips have access to on your collarbones as you shudder in his lap. “Love seeing you cum, fuck, doing this shit over KakaoTalk fucking sucked.” 

Taehyung finally removes his fingers from your mouth when you stop moving. Seeing the string of spit that connects his fingers to your lips makes you feel weak, but you’re riding the high of his praise and skillful fingers, so you don’t care. 

He wipes your spit onto his sweatpants and gently holds your chin with his other hand. He gives you a soft smile and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. You can taste yourself when you flick your tongue over the trail his thumb left.  

“I missed you so much,” he admits with a gentle kiss on your lips. “And not just because of this. I missed all of you, everything about you, just being with you.” 

“I missed you, too.”

It’s meant to be a confirmation of your mutual love, but it comes out like a whine. You know Taehyung doesn’t mind from the way his eyes zero in on your tongue running along your bottom lip. You don’t have to say anything more for him to know what you want. He nods once and you’re almost immediately on your knees between his legs.  

“Fuck.” He leans back in the chair and lifts his hips so you can tug his sweatpants down his thighs. “Gonna be good for me, baby?” 

You quickly nod your head, though you’re focused on gently taking Taehyung’s cock in your hand. Alex isn’t wrong. Taehyung’s dick is big, but that doesn’t mean you have to go around talking about it. That’s for you to know and for others to wonder about. 

You had to sign an NDA before you were allowed to see it, anyway, but you’d keep your mouth shut even if no legal action would be taken against you for gossiping. 

“Kiss it first.” 

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he watches you. His eyelids droop lower when you plant a puckered, open-mouthed kiss on the head of his cock. You press the tip of your tongue against the slit to lick at the precum already leaking from him. The buck of his hips isn’t unexpected, but you feel like you need to remember how to do all of this after being away from him for so long. Not to mention how tired your jaw is about to be. 

Taehyung seems to sense your hesitation because he allows his body to go slack beneath you. The hand that has reached down to dig into your scalp doesn’t let up, but he doesn’t push your head down like he normally would when you finally slide his cock down your throat. 

He doesn’t buck his hips again, even when you drool so much that the inside of his thighs become just as wet as yours. You squeeze the base of his cock, twisting your wrist to the rhythm you’ve established when you can’t take all of him into your mouth. 

You reach down to gently roll his balls with your free hand. His cock twitches against your flattened tongue and you hum with satisfaction. 

“God, your fucking mouth–” 

You make eye contact with Taehyung as your hand ventures lower. There’s nothing more beautiful than the way his face crumples with pleasure when you massage his perineum. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he whines. 

You ease up slightly but still suckle on the head of his cock for longer than Taehyung wants. Why not have a little fun? All you’ll end up doing is riling him up even more, and that can only be a good thing for you. 

Taehyung digs his fingers into your hair and yanks you up. It stings, but the pain might as well be white-hot pleasure once Taehyung is praising you with a gravelly voice. 

“You’re too fucking good at that.” 

You don’t even like sucking dick, but you’d do it all day, every day if Taehyung asked you to. But since he made you stop, you have other priorities to take care of, like the fact that there are way too many layers of clothes separating you from your boyfriend. While you were on your knees for him, Taehyung removed his shirt. The white cotton is discarded on the floor beside the chair and his half-dry hair is tousled around his head in a messiness only he could successfully pull off. 

After wiggling out of your leggings and underwear, you climb back onto Taehyung’s lap. His broad chest shudders beneath your touch as you run your hands down to meet his soft tummy. His responsiveness strokes the ego you didn’t realize you have. 

“Y’know, you never gave me the chance to ask you how travel went.” 

“Seriously?” He knows you’re teasing, but you like the mock-irritated tone of his voice. It makes his chest rumble. 

You use your grip on him to stabilize yourself as you grind into his lap. You scrape your nails at the nape of his neck and suck on his bottom lip. Taehyung moans into your mouth, low and throaty, when his cock glides through your wet folds as you roll your hips. He lets you pull his hair, head falling back to expose the smooth plane of his throat. Your lips leave his to latch onto his throat instead. The kisses you give him are slippery and biting and hot. 

“No hickeys, Y/N.” 

Taehyung’s scolding is deep and sharp; you both know he’s not fucking around. It’s a command he has had to throw your way more than once. The idea of marking him up is just so appetizing, but you know you can’t. Sure, makeup can make just about anything disappear, but it’s annoying to deal with and Taehyung isn’t particularly a fan of the side looks the makeup artists give each other when they see dark bruises littering his neck and collarbones. 

Maybe you’ll give him just a tiny one and suffer the consequences later. 

You cling onto him tighter when you feel two of his fingers slip inside of you. Spreading your thighs as wide as you can without throwing off your balance on the chair, you roll your hips into Taehyung’s hand to take his fingers deeper. 

“Please,” you moan against his neck. You can smell your shampoo and body wash on him. Something about him smelling like you makes you feel overwhelmingly possessive. He’s yours. Kim Taehyung is yours. 

He turns his head to the side to capture your lips with his own as he snakes his arm around your waist. The position allows him to pull you tightly against his chest. He holds you in place as he starts thrusting his fingers into your pussy just as he had thrust them into your mouth.   

Taehyung grunts as he keeps his legs spread in the chair, which in turn forces your thighs open when you try to squeeze them closed around his hand. 

“Stay still.” 

“Can’t.” You shake your head and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging the strands harder. 

It’s too much; Taehyung lights a fire against every inch of your body each time he touches you. If he was anyone else, you’d be singed, but Taehyung takes such good care of you. You’re not singed. You’re ignited. 

“You have no fucking idea,” Taehyung takes a deep breath, “No fucking idea how badly I’ve been craving you.” He warms you up with each thrust of his fingers, adding a third until you’re clawing at his shoulders. 

“So, ahh fuck, fuck me,” you gasp, your mouth hot against the corner of his jaw. Your teeth scrape against his skin and he merely lets his head fall back to give you more. 

“No please?” 

You bite his cheek in defiance and get a slap to the ass that only makes you want to bite him more. 

“Don’t be mean to me,” you whimper. 

Taehyung’s steady rhythm against your front wall has your orgasm burning so hotly in your core that you feel like you’re going to cum if he even so much as turns his head to look at you one more time. 

Your thighs are already sore by the time Taehyung removes his fingers from your pussy. He uses your sticky arousal as lube to stroke his cock and you don’t want to think about how excited you are about this. 

“Hurry up.” 

Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you just as he grips the inside of your thigh with one hand. The other he uses to line his cock with your body. You can feel the head press against your entrance, and you try to push your body down to swallow him whole, but Taehyung holds you up to stop you. 

“Impatient cockslut, aren’t you?” Taehyung chides. 

His previously spacey look is sharpened by the sparkle of mirth in his eyes. Your body tenses when he spits the insult at you, and he knows it’s making your clit throb even harder. 

“Tae.” You bite your lip because you’re close to begging at this point. 

Luckily, you don’t have to. Taehyung presses down your hip and you quickly take the lead, easing yourself onto his cock until you’re fully seated on his firm thighs. 

Your body burns from the stretch it has to make to accommodate him, but you knew it would. Even when you’re fully adjusted to him, there’s always a bit of a stretch. He also knows he has to let you ease into it to avoid slamming himself straight into your cervix. The first time it had happened, Taehyung genuinely thought he’d broken you. You kind of thought so, too, if you were going to be perfectly honest. The struggle of having a big-dicked boyfriend. 

“Okay?” He’s watching you with those lustful, dark eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum because you’re afraid of the way your voice will quiver if you try to say real words. 

You’re so full, it’s a bit overwhelming. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. You missed Taehyung a lot, but holding onto each other in such an intimate position is making you realize just how lonely you were without him. 

“I’m gonna move, okay?” 

He waits until you silently nod your head before he adjusts in the chair, scooting down slightly to spread his legs better. You allow him to adjust your legs, bending them at the knee and hooking them over the arms of the chair. With a tight grip on your ass, Taehyung pulls you down onto his cock at the same time he thrusts up into you. 

The pace Taehyung sets is desperate, but you don’t care. Your second orgasm is approaching at an alarming speed. It feels like it’s taking all of your energy to simply stay grounded with reality as Taehyung squeezes you and your hips crash into each other. You don’t even try to do anything, just let him take over your body as he pounds into you. For the most part, you’re a pillow princess and you both know it. Besides, how can you possibly keep up with someone so athletic? Taehyung’s stamina is ridiculous. Neither of you has an overstimulation kink, but Taehyung’s ability to just go and go and go might as well have given you one. None of this has ever bothered Taehyung, though. He likes giving more than receiving. 

“Oh fuck.” Taehyung nips at the base of your neck when you clench around his cock just to feel him shiver. 

There aren’t any rules about him marking you up. The petty side of him likes when you wear the dark bruises in the open, with no makeup or clothing to hide them. It’s a satisfying game he likes to play. He likes that everyone knows you’re getting dicked down and, therefore, are taken. 

You like the secret satisfaction of knowing it’s Kim Taehyung who gives you those marks, and no one even knows. 

What you don’t like is thinking about all the other people Taehyung may have enjoyed giving marks to. 

It’s hard not to let your mind wander. Taehyung has never talked to you about his previous relationships, and there’s no way for you to know about them if he doesn’t tell you. The media can’t be trusted to accurately report idols’ love lives; today has been a perfect example of that. You’re stuck with only your imagination to make up all kinds of scenarios. Maybe Taehyung has been with other k-pop idols, or models, or actresses - people with more money, who are prettier and more sophisticated than you. Hell, you’ve never even asked him about his sexuality. What if he really has been fucking Jungkook! What if they’re in love and you’re just something temporary? 

“I was made for you, jagi. You know that?” Taehyung’s breath is hot against your skin. His words are gentle, but the power with which he thrusts up into you is bruising. “Made for you.” 

It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he can somehow sense the insecurities threatening to pull you out of the moment. As always, Taehyung manages to bring you back to the present. 

Fuck, sometimes you wish he wouldn’t do shit like this to you. You’re already pathetically in love with him. You can’t imagine what more could come next, yet you feel yourself practically bursting from the seams with love.  

Your moans fall in line with the sound of the chair scraping the floor and your skin slapping against Taehyung’s with every thrust. When your mouth falls open, Taehyung presses his thumb against your tongue. With eyes fluttering closed, you suck on his thumb and try to hold on as your body rocks up and down. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh, god, Taehyung.” 

“Yeah, jagi?” Taehyung pulls down on the corner of your mouth until his thumb is dragging spit across your cheek. “Tell me.”

His voice is so soothing it makes you want to cry. It’s unfair. 

“You feel so fucking—“ 

It’s the slick pressure of his thumb massaging your clit that finally has you arching your back with a scream of Taehyung’s name. You’re so loud that you worry your neighbors heard you. There are plenty of people named Taehyung in the world, though, right? He could be any Taehyung. 

If you ask Taehyung later, he’ll probably say he can’t even remember his own name because of how tightly you clench around his cock when you cum. The feeling is so overwhelming that you think you might pass out from holding your breath. You gasp, inhaling more air than you exhale, but Taehyung keeps going. Every subsequent thrust knocks the air out of you until you have the opposite problem and now you can’t keep any air in.

“I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead, baby. Cum inside me.” 

Taehyung whimpers into the crook of your neck as he cums, the suggestiveness of your permission not lost on either of you. You’re on birth control and Taehyung knows a kid would probably ruin his career. So it doesn’t actually mean anything when you tell him he can stay inside; you’re not getting pregnant any time soon. Still, he gets off on coming inside of you, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

“I was going to make a joke that I should go on tour more often if that means I’ll cum that hard again, but I think I don’t want to go on tour ever again,” Taehyung admits with a shaky laugh.��

Just the idea of Taehyung leaving you for months on end again makes your stomach twist. He brings so much life to everywhere he goes, and you felt like much of that life left you when he did. Even if it was only temporary. 

Taehyung holds you until his cock is no longer twitching inside of you. Once his arms finally fall to his side, you try to untangle yourself from the chair as his body, but your limbs might as well belong to someone else.

“Help,” you squeak hoarsely. You feel like covering your face when Taehyung laughs. 

Taehyung helps you out of his lap, though you both are so wobbly on your feet that you hold onto the edge of the kitchen table when you stand. Taehyung looks wrecked, and you feel wrecked. You’re not sure your knees will ever work properly again. 

“Why are we still listening to Stray Kids?” Taehyung grumbles when he realizes the speakers are still playing in the background. 

“It’s a good album.”

“We should be fucking to my songs.” Taehyung pauses for a moment, thinking.“‘Christmas Tree’ is a fuckable song, right?” 

“You’re joking.” 

Taehyung shakes his head and reaches for your phone. His face is programmed to unlock your phone, just like your face unlocks his phone. You don’t understand how he can stand butt naked in the kitchen, cum all over his thighs, and search for the jazz playlist he made on your Spotify account. 

(“Jazz Hands, Y/N. It’s a vibe.”) 

Once his playlist has replaced Stray Kids, Taehyung wraps you up in a giant bear hug that lifts you off your feet. The hug nearly knocks the air out of you. 

“Can’t believe you made me dirty after I just showered.” You can’t see his pout, but you can hear it. 

“You’re the one who started this.” 

Taehyung scoffs. He starts walking down the hallway, practically dragging you in his arms as he goes. Your toes barely reach the ground, but you’re more content to let your body fall slack and make him do all the work. 

He kicks open the bathroom door and sits you down on the counter. 

“No, you did this. You looked at me with those pretty eyes and said, ‘Tae’.” He tries to mimic your voice by moaning his name. “I’m a weak, weak man. You influenced me. I just wanted you to eat.” 

“Well, I did eat.” 

Taehyung presses his lips together. “Don’t say it.” 

“I’m gonna say it.” You lean forward on the edge of the counter, trying to get in Taehyung’s space, but he’s ignoring you as he prepares the shower.

“Y/N.” 

“I ate…”  

“Stop.” 

“Deez nuts.” 

Taehyung drags his hands down his face, leaving his skin red. His reaction makes you giggle. 

“Technically you only played with deez nuts. Your mouth, sadly, did not ever come near my—” He tries to correct you, but you’re already throwing a scrunchie at his face. 

“You’re ruining the joke!” 

“It’s a bad joke!”

Maybe your sense of humor is way better than his, but as you suffer another Taehyung tickle attack, you can’t help but feel ridiculous for how you’d behaved earlier. How can he look at you with sparkling eyes and a boxy smile that makes him laugh with his teeth, hand coming up to cover his face when you give him your poutiest of pouts— how can you see such genuine kindness and think Taehyung would ever do anything to jeopardize what you have?

“Wassup motherfuckers!” 

You raise your eyebrows at Namjoon and tap the end of your chewed pen against your computer screen. Biting pens isn’t sanitary or cute but you do it anyway. The man’s eyes aren’t on your pen cap, though. He’s staring a hole into the podcast you pulled up because you know he doesn’t want to look at you. 

“Namjoon, why did you start the episode like that? This is not your Automatic Dick era,” you say with a deep sigh. 

“Beoryeo.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The song. It’s called ‘Throw Away’, not… Automatic… Dick…” His correction dies on his tongue when he sees the exasperated look on your face. 

“That is not the point.” You shake your head and exit the website. You’re not in charge of PR. That’s someone else’s problem.

Your attention turns to the newest draft of the song you’ve been stressing out about since you arrived in Seoul. 

“This, though? This is fucking beautiful.” You adjust your laptop on the coffee table so Namjoon can better view the document. The two of you are at the dorm, lounging in the living room. 

There are a lot of highlighted lines and many comments throughout the document. You wish you were like the members who scribbled their lyrics in cute leather journals, but your brain is too much of a disaster and broken by technology. If you don’t have your laptop, you can't write lyrics for shit. 

“How are you so eloquent in Korean, but in English, you’re so…” You wave your hands around like you’re rifling through the air for the rest of your sentence. 

“Casual?” 

“Yes.” Sure, we’ll go with that, Joonie. 

“Well, that’s why I’ve got you!” 

At least he thinks you’re eloquent. The boys probably think you’re spending all your time in your office easily pulling masterpieces out of your ass when in reality you’re Googling, “what's the word for when you can't remember a word?” 

It’s lethologica, by the way.

You love Namjoon, but sometimes you think he has too much faith in you. Writing songs is hard. He of all people would know that. The difference between you and Namjoon is that when Namjoon struggles with writing he gets all emo, buys a bunch of weird furniture, and flies to another country to look at foreign art. When you struggle with writing, you just go home and play video games with Taehyung until you’re ready to try again. 

You’re both practicing avoidance, but Namjoon’s method just looks a little more dramatic than yours. Despite his assumptions, that doesn’t mean you’re better at handling yourself. You just do things differently. 

“We’re so lucky to have Jagi PD!” 

Namjoon groans and covers his head with the hood of his hoodie as Jungkook flies into the living room. 

Strong hands cup your armpits to lift you off of the couch. While Jungkook is crushing every bone in your body as he hugs you, all you can think about is how you were kind of a little bit sweaty, and now Jungkook has his hands all in your armpits. 

“Jungkookie, don’t pick people up without their consent.” 

Hobi enters the room behind the younger man and gives him a stern look which makes Jungkook immediately put you down on your feet. 

“Sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a pout and galaxies in his eyes. You give his shoulder a playful smack. His baggy black t-shirt sticks to his skin, and you’re less worried about being sweaty. Jungkook is soaked. 

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’m tough.” You flex your nonexistent muscles to make the precious maknae laugh his pout away.

“You should come train with us, Jagi.” 

“Jungkook,” Namjoon exclaims from where he still sits on the couch. 

He turns to his friend with wide eyes. “What?”

“Stop calling Y/N ‘jagi’. Taehyung is going to kill you.” This time Jimin pipes up. 

You hadn’t realized he’d entered the room, too. The three newcomers are varying degrees of sweaty with pink cheeks and wearing workout clothes. You suppose they’ve just come back from working out or perhaps a dance practice. They’ve all been back from tour for a few weeks now, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about the Bangtan Boys it’s that they never fucking rest. 

It’s exhausting just to think about it. 

“It’s okay,” you say with a shrug. “I think ‘Jagi PD’ is pretty fucking funny, to be honest.” 

The nickname Jungkook created for you is cute in your opinion. You are a music producer. Jagi PD is better than using your last name. It could be like your stage name. Maybe you can get Namjoon to credit you as Jagi PD under the songs you write. Using your first and last name seems lame when it’s paired with fun names like SUGA, RM, j-hope, and Slow Rabbit.

“Pretty fucking funny,” Jungkook repeats. He gives the other men a triumphant look before launching himself onto the couch with Jimin. 

Hobi chooses to sit on the couch on the opposite side of the room with Namjoon. From the way Namjoon has nestled back into his seat, it’s clear that his song will have to wait. It’s for the best. You’re not thinking about music anymore. 

You can’t blame Jungkook for interrupting your work, but the true source of distraction saunters into the room with his arms full of grocery bags. 

“Hey, jagiya,” Taehyung greets you sweetly with a kiss on your forehead as he walks through the living room to get to the kitchen. The final two men, Jin and Yoongi, trail behind Taehyung with their own bags. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin give Jungkook a pointed look when Taehyung uses the term of endearment. 

“What are you guys making?” Jungkook is curled up against the arm of the couch with his phone in hand. He’s holding it sideways which makes you think he’s probably playing In The Seom. The app is old news by this point, yet Jungkook’s attention is still consumed by it. It’s hilarious. 

You wish you could meet the game developers. Whoever made Taehyung’s character look so fucking feral deserves a raise. 

“You’re gonna cook?” You don’t hide your shock at the idea that Taehyung would be cooking anything, and that makes everyone laugh.

“I’m making dinner,” Yoongi clarifies. “And it’s a surprise, so stop paying attention to me.” He shoos Jin and Taehyung out of the kitchen. 

Jin sits on the couch with Jimin and Jungkook, while Taehyung sits with you. The armchair really only seats one person comfortably, but you wiggle so Taehyung can sit half next to you and half under you. He arranges your legs to drape over his lap. It’s nice, being this close. You can snuggle into his side and let him wrap his arms around you without worrying about who can see or what people think. All the boys are supportive of your relationship with Taehyung. It’s a bit frustrating that there’s no way for you to fully express how appreciative you are. 

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” From the couch in the living room, Jungkook shoots Yoongi a glare as if Yoongi’s request for some alone time while he cooks is a personal attack. 

Yoongi snorts and turns his back on Jungkook to begin unloading the groceries. “I don’t know, talk to each other.” 

“You guys are boring. I only want to talk to Y/N.” You’re not sure how you’ve become Jungkook’s favorite, but it’s exceptionally endearing. 

“You’re not even going to pay attention,” Namjoon points out. “Always on that damn phone.” 

He’s still got his hood up, and he looks like he was half-asleep. No one but you gets the joke, so Namjoon nods his head in your direction before returning to his slumped position. 

“I like watching Jimin-ssi’s character spin around in little circles.” 

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” Jin chimes in. “He looks so small.” 

The glares Jimin shoots everyone in the room are terrifying. You think about something you’d heard someone say: the shorter the person, the closer to hell they are. Something dramatic that only a tall person would say. 

“All the characters are the same size,” he exclaims. “And I don’t do that!” 

“Yes, you do. There are fanmade compilation videos of you spinning around, Jimin-ssi! I’ve watched them,” Jungkook confesses with full confidence. 

A small squeal sounds from the opposite side of the room. You turn to see Hobi practically bouncing on the couch. 

“Please, can we watch some? I want to hear the cute sound effects.” 

A pillow flies across the room, and Hobi just barely dodges it. Jimin crosses his arms firmly against his chest and scowls as Jin and Jungkook enthusiastically agree and Hobi snatches the TV remote before anyone else can. 

“At least watch a video that isn’t about me doing something embarrassing,” Jimin breaks down enough to plead (not beg!) with Hobi. He eyes the room and his gaze falls on Taehyung. A small smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth and you feel Taehyung slowly exhale. “We should watch one about TaeTae.” 

You try to cover your laughter with a cough, but Taehyung applies a light slap to your thigh in retaliation. 

“Why me?” he pouts. 

“Yes! Let me pick!”

“Jungkookie, no. It was my idea.” Hobi scrolls through his phone until his face lights up with glee. “I’ve watched this one before and it’s so cute, Y/N, you’re going to love it.” 

“The suspense is killing me.” You wiggle your eyebrows at Taehyung. The rolled eyes you’re met with feel like a victory. 

“Okay, it’s called, BTS struggling to understand ‘Tae-tae language’,” Hobi prefaces while the video loads on the TV. 

Jin laughs at the loud snort you let out. “TaeTae language is hard to understand.” 

“Maybe you guys aren’t creative enough to understand me,” Taehyung scoffs. 

“Hey! I understand you!” Yoongi protests from the kitchen. 

Taehyung looks like he might say more, but the video interrupts him. It starts with highlights from the comments section of previous videos. One comment mentions Namjoon being their bias. 

“Is that weird? Like, to watch this kind of stuff and hear people talk about their biases?” If you were famous, you were absolutely positive that you’d never Google yourself. You would not want to know what kind of weird shit was out there about you, even something as seemingly innocent as silly compilation videos. 

“I think it’s funny,” Jimin says with a smirk and half-moon eyes. “I’m everyone’s bias, anyway.” 

“That’s not what TikTok says.” Jungkook turns his nose upward at Jimin, though his eyes never leave his phone. It’s a shame In The Seom didn’t allow him to drown Jimin in the ocean, or he totally would have done it by now. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Just check how many videos there are under my hashtag.” 

Jimin snorts with a roll of his eyes, seemingly dismissing Jungkook’s claims. But you see him twist on the couch so the younger man can’t see that Jimin pulls up TikTok on his phone. As if TikTok was the end all, be all. You want to tell them it’s impossible to know who’s the most “popular” or whatever, but you know that conversation is futile. 

“Y/N, you were Army before you started dating Tae!” You can practically see the light bulb going off in Hobi’s brain. Or, rather, the Army bomb. “Who was your bias?” 

Hobi’s question barely leaves his lips when the room grows quiet. Seven pairs of eyes stare at you expectantly, including your boyfriend’s. You keep your eyes on the TV, though you aren’t seeing the compilation video playing anymore. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t have a bias. Y’know, OT7 and all that shit.” 

Suddenly, the room erupts. Screeches of protests and arguments are shouted across the living room, the boys yelling on top of one another and slewing insults at each other. 

“Oh come on, Y/N, tell us!” Hobi whines.

“Yeah, we wanna know! We won’t judge you.” Pulling this precious information out of you is so vital that Jungkook looks away from his phone long enough to give you a pouty face. 

“It’s obviously me. I’m Worldwide Handsome.” 

“Leave her alone, guys.” Taehyung shifts in his seat and adjusts how your legs drape over his lap. His large hands massage soft circles into your calf muscles. “This is so childish.” 

“Right. A bias is just whoever a fan is partial to,” Namjoon says with a shrug. “What matters is that fans support us as seven.” 

“No, a bias is the one the fan wants to fuck the most.” This time Jungkook doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks. 

Jin hums in agreement, winking in your direction and making Taehyung scowl. 

“You’re just scared it’s not you, Tae.” For someone Taehyung calls his soulmate, Jimin seems to jump at every opportunity to fuck with his friend. He turns to you with those haunting siren eyes that lure in even God’s strongest soldiers. “Is he, Y/N? Is your bias Taehyung or someone else?” 

“I thought Hobi’s question was, who was my bias? Not is.” 

His siren eyes narrow at you. “Stop arguing semantics and answer the question.” 

You can’t hold a staring contest with the now-paused Youtube video, and Jimin’s sudden snappiness makes you feel the need to look away. Right into the eyes of your answer, the only person who hasn’t spoken during the entire bias conversation. 

Yoongi’s sharp eyes catch yours when you look away from the TV. Never one to miss a beat, he raises a perfectly-shaped eyebrow at you, the ghost of his classic Yoongi smirk barely lifting the corner of his mouth before the entire room erupts into shouting again. 

“YOONGI?! REALLY?! OUT OF ALL OF US, YOU PICKED HIM?” Jimin jumps up from the couch, knocking pillows all over the floor. 

“Watch it, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi scolds the younger man for his informal language. Jimin only rolls his eyes. 

“Damn, Jimin was right. You aren’t her bias, TaeTae.” Jin shakes his head with a solemn look. He gets up to leave the room, giving your boyfriend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he walks past. “I’m going to my room to play Mario Kart. This is too depressing for me.” 

At the mention of video games, Jungkook perks up. “Wait Jin hyungie, I wanna play, too!” He tosses the last couch pillow in Jimin’s lap and scrambles to catch up with Jin halfway down the hall. 

Yoongi wears a full-blown smirk now. You watch with wide eyes as his tongue slips out to drag across his bottom lip before he’s drawing his lip between his teeth. “Cute.” 

“Fuck off,” Taehyung hisses at the older man, lifting your legs off his lap. 

“Tae…” You reach out to grab his arm to stop him, but he’s already heading to his bedroom. The door slams shut so hard that the photos on the walls shudder. 

You turn back around to glare at the remaining men. “Did you have your fun, hmm? Was it worth it?” 

“I really… I didn’t think…” Hobi fumbles his words, clearly uncomfortable with the outbursts he’d unwittingly caused. 

“If it doesn’t work out with Taehyung, call me, yeah?” Yoongi sends you a wink, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. 

You feel your face heat up and you refuse to look at him. You wait until he goes back to preparing the food before you stand up. Without another word, you follow in Taehyung’s footsteps until you reach his door. It’s locked, but you expected as much. 

“TaeTae,” you call softly. “Please let me in.” 

You wait in silence long enough that you consider going home. If Taehyung doesn’t want to talk to you, you aren’t going to push him. Even if you think the reason for his outburst is stupid and that he’s acting like a child. 

Eventually, the door is opened wide enough for you to slip inside. Taehyung doesn’t look at you when he shuts the door. Instead, he sits on his bed and leans his back against the wall. He keeps his eyes on his hands delicately folded together in his lap. His eyes are already red and slightly puffy. The sight is glass in your veins. 

“Tae, please don’t be upset,” you start slowly. Climbing into his bed, you scoot until you’re lounging next to him. He doesn’t pull away when you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

You let out a small sigh, not because you’re frustrated with him but because you’d known watching fanmade videos would turn out to be a bad idea. 

“If it makes you feel better, you were still in my bias line.” It’s probably not the best way to reassure your boyfriend, but it at least makes him look at you. 

“Who else?” His eyes are narrowed.

“I don’t think I should answer that.” 

Taehyung’s bottom lip droops and you feel your heart seize. 

“Okay, okay!” Maybe holding his hand will make it better. “Jimin, but, no don’t give me that look! Just listen.” 

Taehyung’s pout deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt you. 

“It’s not like when I hang out with Jimin or Yoongi I’m thinking about those things, okay? It’s just a natural thing that happens. Anyone can be drawn to specific people in a group; the same thing happens with friendships. Like you and Jimin. It’s normal.” 

Taehyung doesn’t seem convinced, but he laces his fingers through yours. You interpret the light squeeze he gives you as permission to continue talking. 

“Yoongi is cool because I always saw him as this, like, mental health icon for me. He talks so much about mental health and fans see how he has grown and gotten healthier over the years. It’s inspiring, right? You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“That’s true,” Taehyung sniffles. 

You nod your head. “Exactly, I respect him as a person and an artist. And with Jimin, I’ve always been almost jealous? of him. Because he can so beautifully balance both masculine and feminine qualities and aesthetics. He looks good no matter what and has learned to accept himself instead of forcing whatever weird masculinity shit y’all had when you debuted. That’s inspiring, too.” 

Taehyung is silent for a while. You give him the space to process what you’ve said, and you hope that it’s enough to make him understand that a bias is not just about who you want to fuck. Jungkook is such a flirt; of course, that’s how he would interpret things. 

“Why did you like me?” He finally looks at you. His eyes are a little pink from his tears, but his cheeks appear dry. The innocent curiosity in his expression tugs at your heart. 

You reach up to run your fingers through his fluffy hair, combing out any tangles and gently massaging his scalp. This is probably how Taehyung feels when you worry about fans, paparazzi, and sasaengs. 

“Well, you’re hot,” you say with a grin. You feel a bit lighter when Taehyung’s mouth curves slightly, too. 

“Is that it?” 

“Of course not.” You stick your tongue out. “You were my favorite in the vocal line. I loved how smooth your singing voice is, and how thoughtful you sound when you talk about how important the members and Army are to you. How could someone not love the inventor of I purple you?” 

It feels weird to talk about how you liked Taehyung before you knew who he was. You never made your status as a fan obvious in the beginning. Professionalism is more important than fangirling. Even now, you only casually discuss your interest in the group before meeting them.

“Your sense of fashion made me laugh. You always seemed so happy, even though people like to focus a lot on how mean you can look. And I thought your relationships with Yoongi and Jimin were cute. You’re a great example of how men can and should be soft and loving.” 

They’re all highly-simplified explanations for why Taehyung caught your eye in a group of seven, but they seem to put him at ease. He slides into the bed so he’s lying on his back under the covers. With his eyes locked on yours, he pats his chest. 

“C’mere.” 

You lie down under the covers next to him. It feels nice to rest your head on his chest and throw your leg over his waist. Ever since Taehyung came back from the tour, you’ve wanted to be attached at the hip. It’s not that you can’t handle being alone, but you don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to be with the people who bring you joy— especially when you live in a new country. 

“You know I’m in love with you, not Yoongi or Jimin.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you actually?” You shift your head so you can look up at him. 

Taehyung meets you halfway. You let your eyes close as he slots his lips with yours, allowing your body to melt into his. The desperation the two of you had for each other when Taehyung first returned to Seoul eventually died out. Now, you’re okay with taking things slow. You can savor the feeling of his body on yours, firm and warm beneath you. You can savor the smell of his cologne and his taste as you breathe him in and slip your tongue inside his mouth. 

“I do,” he responds with a heavy exhale once you pull away. “I’m sorry I got upset. I just got so angry when hyung…” Taehyung scrunches his eyebrows and his nose scrunches along with them. 

You massage his forehead and try to forcefully smooth the wrinkles there. “Yoongi is just being an ass. He loves you, too,” you point out. 

Taehyung can’t argue that, so he leans down to kiss you again. You know how important physical contact is to him, especially when he’s upset. With that in mind, you slip your hands beneath his t-shirt. Splaying your hands flat against his chest feels nice. It’s a reminder that he’s real, and he’s here. He’s safe and healthy and yours. 

“We both get pretty jealous, huh?” 

Taehyung gives you a sheepish smile, all cheeks and pretty lips. You love his little lip freckle, but your favorite will always be the one under his eye. 

“Not as bad as Jungkook, though.” 

“Mhm, please don’t break up with me over a perilla leaf or anything.” 

Taehyung giggles and you feel like you’ve got helium inside you. If you don’t hold onto him tightly enough, you might float away with how light and carefree being with him makes you. 

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he says as he nibbles your earlobe. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

His hands find the hem of your t-shirt, and you sit up to allow him to undress you. It’s a delicate process because Taehyung wants to take his time, too. It might seem like the two of you use sex to solve your problems, but you never see it like that. For you, letting Taehyung take his time breaking you down, just to build you back up again, is an act of emotional intimacy, just as it is physical. When Taehyung gets comfortable between your thighs, dark eyes locked with yours as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the hold he has on your wrists grounds you. And when he hovers over you with your legs wrapped around his hips as he thrusts into you, you whisper gentle praises against his throat to remind him that you are his and he is yours.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Taehyung’s bed. It feels good to snuggle with him while he talks to you about all the jazz clubs he forced Jimin to go to during the little free time they had on tour. It seems the tension in the house fades because the rest of the boys are loud and energetic; it’s impossible to tune them out when their laughter bleeds into the room despite the door being closed. 

“Do you think Taehyung and Y/N are done having make-up sex?” 

“It’s pretty quiet in there. Maybe they fell asleep.” 

You groan and bury your face in Taehyung’s side. It’s almost as if Jungkook and Jin are purposefully talking outside of his bedroom to make sure you can hear them. Knowing them, it’s not a far-fetched idea. 

“Probably tired themselves out. The screaming was really—” 

“JUNGKOOK!” Taehyung sits up so abruptly that you fall back onto the bed. “SHUT THE FUCK UP.” 

Jin and Jungkook’s laughter eventually fades down the hallway, but Taehyung gets out of bed anyway. 

“Yoongi is probably almost done with dinner,” he grumbles. You watch him zip up his jeans and admire how tall and lanky he is. Sorry to Yoongi and Jimin. 

He manages to get his arms caught in his t-shirt somehow, so you begrudgingly get out of bed to help. You tease him endlessly because obviously fucking you is so good that he doesn’t know how to use his limbs anymore. 

Your teasing is nothing compared to the way the other boys drag you the moment you step out of Taehyung’s bedroom. 

“You okay, Y/N? Sounded like you might be dying,” Jimin grins as he prepares the kitchen table for dinner. 

Jin snickers, throwing out his own commentary. “Taehyung, you got it pretty good even though you aren’t her bias, huh.” 

Before Taehyung has a chance to bite anyone’s head off, you chime in. 

“Yeah, yeah, Yoongi was my bias when I was a fan,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You can practically see Jungkook registering that you said “was a fan”, and that makes him pout. As if you aren’t still a fan. What a baby, just like Taehyung. 

Yoongi snorts as he retrieves a dish from the oven. “I cannot fathom why.” 

“Me either,” Jimin agrees with a giggle. He’s completely unfazed by the dark look Yoongi shoots him. 

You join in on Jimin’s laughter, and you’re pleased to see that Taehyung is smiling too. The whole thing is so ridiculous. Maybe you’re feeling a bit too comfortable because you start oversharing. 

“And I was a Yoonmin shipper, I’m not gonna lie.” You’re laughing so hard that you don’t realize neither Jimin nor Taehyung are laughing anymore. After a few seconds pass, though, your smile slowly falls. Jimin’s face has turned bright pink and Yoongi has his back to the table. 

“It was one time, okay?” Jimin’s eyes burn holes into Yoongi’s shoulder blades from across the room. “Okay, two times.” 

The older man doesn’t comment. 

You nudge Taehyung’s leg with your foot under the kitchen table. He presses his lips together as hard as he can, but the smile just gets pushed into his cheeks. A rush of air explodes from his lips in a loud raspberry, and that’s what triggers your laughter again. 

“Oh my god, I really wish I was surprised but I’m not,” you confess with a wheeze. 

You’ve clearly touched on a sensitive topic. Jimin blabbers away about how it’s not that big of a deal, all while Yoongi silently finishes arranging the dishes on the table. It would feel uncomfortable, but Jimin’s flushed face and the tiniest of smiles curving Yoongi’s lips make you think it meant a lot more than what Jimin wishes to admit. 

And that’s really fucking cute. 

As the rest of the boys come piling into the kitchen, Taehyung scoots his chair until yours are touching. You bump shoulders and tilt your face up so he can press a kiss against your jaw. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “With all my heart." 

“I love you, too.” You lace your fingers with his and let your hands rest against his thigh. “You dork.” 

The kitchen is chaos, but all you can focus on is the boxy smile Taehyung gifts you.

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

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[flowerandblood]

The Temple of the God

[ Ares • Ettore x Aphrodite • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, fingering, smut, angst, violence, swearing, marital infidelity ]

[ description: Many men look at her with lust, however, no one's gaze is as terrifying as that of her brother, the god of war, cruel and cold, reminding her more of a barbarian than one of the kings of Olympus. He is known to care little about pleasing women in his brutal rapprochements with them, however, he surprises her with his attitude when he visits her one night. ]

This oneshot is my Valentine's Day gift to all of you. I love you, thank you for being here! I plan to come back to this couple in the future, let me know what you think! 💕

Part 2 − The Temple of War

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She could see it in the way he looked at her. She saw it in the light movement of his head, his raised chin, his slightly parted lips, his gait lazy, confident, careless, like that of a bear or a lion. He circled around her, angry and frustrated, unable to get what he wanted.

There was something animalistic in his nature, in his posture, in his aura, his gaze seemed to her empty, yet at the same time endlessly deep and dark; he could not concentrate on calm deliberation, there was a perpetual, irrepressible storm in his mind.

He would exert himself on the battlefields, at the head of armies of his heroes, with whom he would train and duel for days, their muscular, broad bodies often completely naked, glistening with sweat and oil.

She watched them sometimes from the windows of her chambers on Olympus. Their great wars and pointless exercises aimed at making them tear their opponents to shreds, with one sword cut depriving them of their members, wallowing in their blood.

Her brother did not abhor carcasses, decay, murder, cruelty, she thought he fed on it, his enemies knew no mercy from him, their pleas clashing with the cold stone that was his heart.

Her nature was the complete opposite of his and they both knew that they had nothing to offer each other. However, whenever he caught sight of her silhouette, walking in the company of her servants, river and mountain nymphs, entertaining her with conversation, he did not take his piercing, hot gaze off her, his lips pressed into a thin line; he turned the hilt of his sword as if in a trance then, drifting away with his thoughts.

He did not desire her, he wanted to devour her.

She knew that he had cohabited with many women, including her maidservants, who later lamented to her that he was brutal and cruel, that he did not know or understand what female fulfilment and joy were, did not know the women's bodies and their secrets, because he was only interested in his own fulfilment.

One day she visited him while he was practising with his warriors; they were wrestling and throwing each other to the ground, the one who gave up had to pat the other on the shoulder.

They were completely naked.

Seeing her, several of them covered themselves, knowing full well who she was, ashamed that she might judge them or their bodies, mock them and expose them to the ridicule.

She, however, approached her brother, looking straight into his eyes beaming with utter black emptiness, his broad chest adorned with drops of sweat rising and falling in heavy breathing.

He stood before her without any sign of embarrassment, his eyes roaming all over her body, judging apparently how her flesh presented itself in her soft velvet-like translucent white robe, pearls braided into the curls of her hair. They stared at each other for a moment in silence, as if testing each other, her face, like his, expressing nothing.

"Stay away from my servants, brother. They have complained to me that you are hurting them." She said at last, his jaw clenched at her words, his nostrils quivering in impatience.

He didn't answer.

He never answered.

She turned away, heading back towards the cloisters, feeling the thirsty gazes of the men turning behind her, disappearing at last into the halls of the gigantic ancient palace.

Men craved her for many reasons, one of which was the urge to prove to themselves that they could be desired by the goddess of love herself.

It was a great oversimplification, however, because of her experience this is what she came to be called, people, men and women, began to offer prayers to her begging her blessing in their marriages, asking for her intervention in matters others would have been afraid to whisper about.

She blessed ardent loves, burning to the core.

Yet she herself, though she was ashamed to admit it, had not experienced one herself.

Every time she thought it was the one, the man she believed to be her beloved died, or betrayed her by following another goddess, bored. Her heart was broken so many times that she allowed herself to be approached by men only to give her physical pleasure.

Her husband, Hephaestus, was a good and warm-hearted man. He spent his days in his great forge located in the heart of the volcano, in which the fire flowed constantly. She visited him there rarely, the dust and noise there was unbearable for her.

Although they both had respect for each other and a kind of cordiality, he preferred to devote himself to his work. He did not understand her needs, just as she did not understand his, for which she did not blame him.

Their marriage, unlike that of Zeus and Hera, was more peaceful, both of them resigned to their roles and didn't get in each other's way.

She knew, however, that before her father, ruler of the thunderbolts and all of Olympus, had decided to marry her to Hephaestus, it had been the God of War himself who had furiously demanded her hand, believing that she was his to claim.

Their father did not share his decision, apparently fearing his violent nature and what kind of husband he would turn out to be.

Her brother then disappeared for years, sinking into great wars and battles, the earth trembled from his rage, from the peaks of their heavenly mountain she heard the cries and moans of his enemies.

That day, after what she had told him, he came to her at night.

Completely naked, without a trace of embarrassment on his face, he walked slowly across the cold stone floor towards her bed, draped with a canopy and translucent curtains, which he pushed aside with an impatient flick of his hand, passing between them.

He stopped when he caught sight of her bare figure, looking at him with furrowed brows she raised on one elbow, feeling no shame whatsoever, yet unable to stop the squeeze between her thighs and the heat in her lower abdomen noticing that at the sight of her body his manhood twitched and swelled.

"Get out." She said coolly, but he only hummed as if he was considering something. She turned on her back, ready to scream if necessary, knowing her servants would come to her aid and her brothers would drag him away from her.

She was curious, however, to see what he would do.

She looked vigilantly at his silhouette walking slowly towards her, with his big cold black eyes and tense body he reminded her of a wild animal preparing to attack.

She thought he was about to throw himself at her and try to take her against her will.

He, however, sat down beside her; his large, wide hand raised and, in an uncertain, calm movement, ran down her thigh, his fingers digging into her skin as if he wanted to see what it felt like.

"− like velvet −" He murmured low, breathing through his mouth as if he was trying to calm himself; she seemed to notice on his face something of childish curiosity, as if she and her body was something unremarkable and completely incomprehensible to him.

His hand went higher, to her breast and began to rub and play with it, as if he liked the shape of it and how pleasant it was to the touch. She sighed quietly, realising with disbelief that what he was doing and how he was behaving was making her wet, her fleshy insides pulsing with tension.

Finally his fingers ran over her neck and face, his thumb stopped and parted her plump, glistening lips; he leaned over her as if he wanted to get a proper look at her, his warm breath enveloped her skin, the smell of his sweat seemed primal, masculine to her, her body involuntarily quivered at the thought.

He kissed her, kissed her as if he wanted to devour her, his caress full of chaos and impatience, of his hot, sticky lips, of his wet tongue, of his saliva and teeth. She gasped into his mouth, surprised to feel what he was doing between her thighs, her heart pounding like mad.

He groaned low into her mouth in surprise and tightened his fingers on her cheeks, panting hard as her hand gripped firmly his hard, swollen manhood.

She gasped for air when she felt how generously he had been bestowed by the heavens; she gave him a few slow, encouraging squeezes sliding her hand from the fat, pink head of his cock to it's very base, his hips involuntarily began to respond to her movements.

"− harder −" He commanded, closing his eyes, his hand involuntarily squeezed her breasts, too hard and without sensitivity. She hissed quietly, clamping her hand tighter on his length, wanting to cause him pain; he growled feeling it, digging his fingers into the skin of her cheek, looking at her with rage.

"− not like that − more gently −" She explained, clamping her hand over his, showing him with the strokes of her fingers how he should caress her, directing his thumb to her nipple.

"− rub this place − ah, yes, just like that −" She mumbled, tilting her head back, feeling his impatient breath on her, watching her and her reactions with interest, surprised apparently at how she was able to change in a matter of moments.

She felt his length tremble in her grasp when he heard her first, quiet moans.

"− that's enough −" He said impatiently, laying down on top of her, his large hands, rough from holding the sword, gripped her thighs, wanting to spread them apart and finally possess her, her fingers tightening on his sweaty, muscular shoulders.

"− no − not yet − touch me there −" She mumbled.

He looked at her with a gaze from which her whole body froze, it seemed to her that his irises were completely black, menacing, burning with a desire that destroyed and devoured.

For a moment he didn't move, breathing heavily as if he was considering her words; she licked her lips realising that he had never done this before.

He had never touched a woman down there with his fingers or his lips, never caressed her before he owned her.

She swallowed loudly, sliding her hand down to his, in a gentle motion encouraging him to sink his fingers into her hot, leaking womanhood.

She heard him draw in a loud breath at the sensation, foreign and unfamiliar, tense, he rested the weight of his body on his elbow, leaning to the side, watching from the corner of his eye what he was doing to her.

"− here, brother − touching me here will give me pleasure −" She whispered, guiding his fingertips to the bud hidden between her folds, showing him how to tease her clit with circular, slow movements.

She parted her lips, feeling the pleasant tingling in her lower abdomen, her hips involuntarily began to respond to his strokes.

"− only here? −" He asked lowly, furrowing his eyebrows, his stony face expressing concern at her words knowing that the place she was showing him was outside and not deep inside her. She sighed quietly, guiding his middle finger to her slit; he looked at her face, gasping out loud, feeling the way her fleshy walls resisted him, hot and sticky.

"− not only − can you feel it? − right here −" She whispered, directing him to the spot inside her just above her opening, between her muscles. He shuddered all over, licking his lips, dried apparently from emotion, his erection hard and swollen, twitching involuntarily, betraying how aroused he was.

"− yes −" He exclaimed, digging his middle finger into the spot she showed him, his thumb teasing her pearl, clearly wanting to see what would happen when he started touching both places at once. She moaned loudly, tilting her head back, delighted at how unexpectedly pleasurable the sensation was.

"− gods − put it inside me −" She mewled, feeling that she no longer cared about retaining any remnants of her dignity, her free hand sank into his hair, pulling him close. He grunted loudly into her mouth like an animal throwing himself at her body, her fingers dug into the bare skin of his back, a moan of exertion escaped her throat when immediately the thick tip of his cock began to push against her tight walls.

"− wider −" He exhaled with a grin that was disturbing to say the least as with an impatient, confident thrust he forced her to let him in deeper. She breathed loudly, unable to believe how hard he was stretching her and threw her head back, a drop of sweat running down her long neck.

"− brother −" She whispered, something in the way she said the word made him lose his patience, his length began to slam into her in a fast, brutal rhythm, each time rubbing the spot inside her from where she could see the stars; it seemed to her that everything around her was spinning, the fingers of his hand cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him.

"− no, fucking look at me − look at me and listen to what my cock is doing to this weeping cunt − pathetic −" He hissed out through clenched teeth, as if he was both furious and proud at the same time. She whimpered helplessly, a loud smack echoed around them each time his thighs hit the bare skin of her buttocks, there was something lewd and definitive about the sound, proof of how wrong she was.

"− mghm −" She babbled, feeling like he was going to pierce her, the movements of his hips quick and aggressive, full of desperation and desire, their breaths embarrassingly loud and raptured. They stared at each other with their mouths wide open, as if they couldn't believe in what was happening.

"− what does it feel like, brother? − what does it feel like to fuck your own sister? −" She gasped, heard his surprised sigh at her question, his cock quivered hard inside her, his fingers dug harder into the soft skin of her cheeks, causing her pain.

He was moving so fast inside her that he was hardly slipping out of her, her fleshy walls, all leaking from her moisture, were no longer resisting him.

It seemed to her that he wanted to reply something, but the pleasure took his speech away; he leaned over suddenly and pressed his forehead against hers, panting loudly, his hot breath enveloping her face.

She could smell the masculine scent of his sweat, from which her cunt began to throb around him, her fingers traveled down from his back to his buttocks, stroking them with movements that could be called tender.

"− it feels good −" He whispered, looking at her with a gaze that sent shivers through her, at the same time animalistic, empty and full of something she couldn't name, desire as dark and disturbing as the night around them. The sure, loud, deep thrusts of his hips made her breath get stuck in her throat, she thought with horror, feeling a pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen, that she was about to come.

"− it feels right −" He muttered and ran his tongue over her lips, something in the way he said those words, in this shameless, lewd gesture, in the way the tip of his fat cock rubbed her again and again at the spot of her greatest pleasure made her melt in front of him.

She involuntarily tilted her head back and closed her eyes, a soft, helpless moan of delight broke from her throat as a wave of wonderful heat and relief shook her body, her walls began to squeeze him, sucking him inside.

"− fuck − fuck-fuck-fuck −" He merely muttered before sighing loudly.

She felt his hot seed spill inside her, filling her, and although she rarely allowed anyone such an honour, she was unable to deny him.

She stroked his naked buttocks with calm movements full of affection, in some subconscious, natural reflex, he continued to thrust into her for a moment longer, looking down at her with his mouth open wide in pleasure.

They stared at each other, breathing loudly, and she raised her hand, letting her fingers run over his temple, his cheek and his clearly defined long jaw. She saw him close his eyes for a moment, as if he wanted to remember this moment and this feeling.

"− there is no place for me to rest − no haven where I can take refuge − here is my only true temple −" He gasped in half whisper, as if he were revealing to her some shameful secret that was tormenting him. She swallowed quietly, feeling his body cling to hers, her breasts pressed against his bare, broad chest, his face snuggled into her hot cheek, his soft manhood still throbbed deep inside her.

"− my home −"

_____

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[drivinmeinsane]

Witness in the Dark

※ Sierra Six x Claire's Older Sister!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 } ※ { requested fic }

※ Summary: Don't we all just want to feel the companionable reassurance of another human being?

It only takes a single tragedy to tear your life to shreds and make it to where you're unable to sleep through the night. You tell yourself that you will never trust a bodyguard again, but things don't go according to plan when a man with a number for a name is assigned to the Fitzroy household while your uncle is away

※ Rating: T for suggestive themes and canon typical violence.

※ Content/Tags: Slow burn, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Night terrors, Pining, Unspecified age gap, Movie based - Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Obsessive behaviors from both parties, Descriptions of injuries, Mentions of parental death, Mentions of past kidnapping, Mentions of past torture, Implied death of minor character(s)

※ Word count: 12,637

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: I don't know what came over me. This really got uncontrollably out of hand and ended up being wildly self indulgent. Huge thanks for @danime25 for proofreading this. I owe you my life.

"Ladies!" Your sister's nurse calls as she walks into the room. "I want to introduce you to Six. He'll be looking after the house while Mister Donald is away."

You look up from your position next to Claire on her bed only to meet the eyes of the man following the nurse. They're startlingly blue. His face is impassive as he turns away and surveys the room. He carries himself with an easy grace that hints at the violence that his body could produce. He reeks of danger. You instantly don't appreciate his presence. You had fought with Uncle Fitz tooth and nail over hiring a bodyguard for the duration of his trip away from the home. This man’s presence here means you have clearly lost that argument.

"Only the two exits?" He questions, moving past the bed to stand at the ceiling to floor windows. 

"Yeah." Your tone is hard, biting. The nurse gives a small gasp at your rudeness and says your name disapprovingly.

The man, Six, turns away from the window to look at you with a raised eyebrow. You stare at each other silently, sizing the other up. There’s a flicker of some emotion that you might label as respect in his eyes before Claire, picking up on your hostility, throws her hat in the ring.

"We don't chew gum in this house." You've never loved your little sister's faux-snob act more than in this moment. She snaps a photo of him with her Polaroid, staged records forgotten. He doesn't look particularly pleased about it. It’s more exasperated acceptance than anger though.

He's silent for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry. I wasn't briefed." 

There’s a trace of a smile on his face. It’s irritating and you have to look away from him. You stare at a record sleeve like your life depends on it. He asks for the photo and picks it up. You see a flash of a tattoo on his hand as he plucks the Polaroid off of the bedspread. Poorly done and worn with age. He’s definitely one of Uncle Fitz’s prison recruits then. One of the most morally dubious options he could have saddled you with in his absence. Perfect.

He says his goodbyes to you and Claire before leaving the room. Your heart is beating irrationally rapidly and your mouth is dry. The man with a number for a name is stirring up nothing but bad memories. You know you won’t sleep well tonight. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

“What kind of name is Six anyway?” Claire asks first thing in the morning after she tosses herself into a chair at the kitchen table. The man in question gives her a long look. 

"007 was already taken so…" He says with a relaxed shrug, coffee mug in hand. He's leaning against the kitchen counter in the same suit as yesterday.

You choke back a laugh at the sight of your sister's expression. You accidentally meet Six's eyes over her head. There's warmth in them that douses your amusement immediately. You sober up and turn back to your breakfast. Softness in someone doing his line of work felt… wrong. He isn't trustworthy, you decide, no matter how kind he acts. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You wake up with a start. The coppery tang of blood mixed with the dry powder of concrete lingers in your subconscious. It takes several heaving breaths to clear your airway and bring you back to the present. You shakily sit up. You press your palms into your eyes. You try to forget the sensation of a knife in your skin. You're here. You're safe . You're one of the last people your sister has. You're the stable one.

You get to your feet in the dark bedroom and open your door to step out into the hall. You trail unsteady fingertips down the plaster and paint as you make your way to the kitchen and living area. 

There's a barely audible scuffle and you peer through the gloom to see Six stalking you. You catch the barest glimpse of his face in a strip of moonlight. It's intent. Predatory. There's no hint of recognition, not while you move through the darkest parts of the room.

You feel cold. Your pulse starts to hammer in your veins. Your throat works uselessly. Words won't come out of your mouth. You forge along to the kitchen and fumble for the light. The kitchen is awash in a blinding glow right as you feel heat against your back. It immediately withdraws as the bodyguard removes himself from your personal space. You don't turn to face him while you get a glass from the cupboard and fill it with ice and water at the fridge's dispenser. You stare blankly at the burnished steel while you take sip after sip.

You refill your glass. You blink. You take a drink. You pretend like your mind isn't shattered. You pretend like the man your uncle hired hadn't been about to…

"Are you alright?" Six's voice cuts through the fog in your mind. It's like a lantern has been lit to guide you back into the waking world.

You find yourself then and turn to look at him. You study him. He looks slightly rumpled and tired. There's tension around his eyes and his mouth is set in an almost apologetic frown. 

"Just another nightmare. Sorry for disturbing you."

The frown deepens. "You didn't. I was caught by surprise, that's all."

"Fair warning, me out here like this is probably going to be a regular occurrence." You smile wanly. "I know you want us in bed, but I don't do the whole staying put thing so well most nights."

He just nods. He's accepted your words without protest. The frown fades away.

You gesture with your glass in the vague direction of your bedroom. "I'm going to go ahead and excuse myself. Goodnight, Six."

"Goodnight." 

───※ ·❆· ※───

Weeks go by. The household falls into a comfortable enough routine. Claire ribs him good-naturedly every chance she gets. He's always got a faint aura of amusement every time she takes a shot at him. You hadn't yet seen him get angry. Pretending to be annoyed? Yes, but never actually expressing any negative emotion beyond mild exasperation. Not yet, anyway. 

He sends the both of you to bed every night after Claire's nurse takes her leave. You inevitably get up in the middle of the night after another vivid nightmare. Six is always either watching the camera footage or doing his rounds. He's stopped being surprised by your presence after the night he hunted you. You linger in the kitchen doorway night after night, watching him keep vigil. He's got a soft face, you've decided. There's tension there, likely from worry and lack of sleep, but not cruelty. You've begun to wonder if he has the capability for it. You know he must. Uncle Fitz has kept you in the dark about a lot of the work he does, but you know a kind man wouldn’t have been a candidate for whatever program your uncle runs. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You're woken up a few nights later by the sound of hands scrabbling on your door. Your eyes snap open and you remain frozen for a second before you hear Claire's muffled voice. You're immediately out of bed so fast you stumble and twist your ankle painfully. You fling the door open and next thing you know, your little sister falls wheezing into your arms. "Something's… Something's wrong." She gasps out.

She can't breathe and is clutching at her chest with weak hands. Horror races down your back and you're pulling her into your arms in a clumsy embrace, desperately trying to keep her upright.

"Six!" The name is torn from you in a shout. You never thought you would be screaming for a man you'd told yourself you couldn't trust.

He's there in an instant. He puts a steadying hand on your back before he gently pulls Claire away and lifts her up into his arms. She wheezes again and both you and Six freeze.

"I'm okay." she whispers. She looks so small and breakable in the bodyguard's thick arms. Like a bird plucked from the sky, held the mercy of a giant's hands.

"Can you get the keys for the car and unlock it?" His voice washes over you. Its steadiness anchors you to reality. You manage a "Yeah." and take off through the house to the garage, making a pit-stop to snag the keys from their bowl. Your ankle is throbbing. Six is close behind, his brisk stride and long legs keeping time with your hurried scrambling. You mash the unlock button on the fob and throw yourself into the backseat. Claire is gently deposited in after you. Her head is resting on your lap. You comb through her brown hair with shaky hands. 

"Mount St. Mary's." You tell Six the moment he's halfway into the driver's seat. "They're the ones who put her pacemaker in."

He grunts in response, backing out of the garage. You don't remember when you handed him the keys or when the garage door was opened. You don't think about anything other than your little sister. You can't lose her too. You've already lost so much of your family and of yourself. The ride passes in a blur. You're only fleetingly aware of the passing lights. Your heart is hammering in your chest like it's beating for Claire and you both. You whisper pleas and promises to her, stroking her forehead with shaking hands.

You're pulled out of your trance by Six yanking the passenger door open, and you help guide your sister into his capable arms. The medical team whisks Claire into the back immediately the moment he has her on the stretcher. You're left in a stiff, vinyl chair in the waiting room. Bodies haven't been in it long enough to soften the material. You're filling out intake paperwork on your sister's behalf. Six stands next to you, hands clasped in front of himself. You glance over, checking his watch every few seconds, your leg bouncing in place. Nervousness and fear wash over you in all-consuming waves. 

He catches your glance as your eyes dart over yet again.

"You holding up alright?'' His questions surprise you. He rarely is the one to initiate conversations. His gaze is steady, grounding, blue eyes watching you intently.

"Not really." You admit, inhaling and exhaling jaggedly. He nods. There's tension around his eyes. Is he worried too? You have to look away from his face and instead talk to his watch. "She's my sister. I need to keep her safe. I can't lose her too."

You hear him make a noise in response. You watch the seconds tick by one by one on his watch. The two of you are silent for approximately thirty-seven of them before Six breaks the moment by undoing the metal clasp. He pulls the watch away from his skin, revealing a bar of ink across the underside of his surprisingly delicate wrist before he's handing it to you.

"Here."

You stare at the dangling watch blankly before looking up at his face. "What?"

"Keep it safe for me for a while." His tone leaves no room for argument. You reach out with hesitant fingers and take it from his grasp. The steel is warm in your hand. You swallow thickly and drape the watch over your wrist, waiting for the sickening feeling of having your hands bound to hit you. It doesn't. You clumsily latch the buckle. It's sized perfectly for the man diligently standing at your side, no possibility of tightening it without it being resized altogether. It hangs off your wrist like a loose bracelet and you realize then just how big Six is. 

He hides his mass well. His muscles are concealed discretely enough underneath blazers and tailored trousers. He simply doesn't take up space in whatever room he's in, always the expert at being unremarkable, unobtrusive, and not worth remembering. But this… this is a dead giveaway. You cast a sideways glance at his hands and, for a dizzying moment, you wonder how your hand would look pressed palm to palm with one of his.

"Miss Fitzroy. Your sister is cleared for visitors now if you would like to see her." A nurse's voice cuts into your illogical musings.

You stand up so abruptly that the chair you were just sitting on screeches agonizingly loud on the polished vinyl flooring before it thuds into the wall. The nurse flinches slightly, but Six is steady at your side. He falls into step behind you as you follow the man through the winding hallways to Claire.

The doctor stops you at the door, arm barring you for a moment before letting it drop. "She's stabilized. Tell your uncle there was a programming glitch. We were able to repair it. Non-invasive." She pauses for a moment, giving the man hovering behind you a hard look before continuing. "The remote system flagged it ten minutes before he pulled up."

"You're able to monitor from that distance?" You interrupt. 

"We can keep track of her pacemaker from just about anywhere. You may see her. She can be released later tonight after we have her under observation for a while longer.” The doctor catches your pinched expression and adds. “Just to be safe.”

You nod, gaze bypassing her to focus on Claire. She’s been watching the exchange and, at your attention, she pulls a weak smile under her oxygen mask while raising a pale hand to flash the rocker sign. The doctor finally steps aside but not before blocking Six as he makes to follow you into the room. “Only family allowed.”

You look at her incredulously and open your mouth to protest before Six cuts you off. “I understand. Thank you, Doctor.” His tone is bland, unemotional. He arranges himself to stand with his back to the inside of the open door. He’s obnoxiously in the way of anyone that would need to come or go. He spends the passing minutes as they bleed into hours standing there like a steadfast sentinel. Back straight, hand clasped over his right wrist, left wrist startlingly bare, head lowered in waiting supplication; he’s the very image of patient servitude.

You sit at your sister's side in your own vigil. The three of you wait in tired silence until a nurse finally announces Claire is free to be discharged. 

She fusses as she's helped into a wheelchair. You and Six stand aside, letting the staff fight the battle. They win, but as soon as everyone spills out of the automatic doors, she's pulling herself out of the mobility aid. She gently slaps away yours and Six's reaching hands when the two of you try to steady her. "Don't you dare."

"But-" you start to protest before you're immediately shut down. "I can walk to the car. I'm not that much of an invalid."

Six doesn't even try to say anything, just forges ahead through the parking lot like nothing happened. He's learned by now that there's no arguing with your little sister. The traitor. You and Claire make it to the vehicle after him and you move to slide into the back seat with her but she pulls a face.

"You're smothering meeeee." she exaggeratedly whines. You give her a flat look. "Smothered." she insists. She dramatically points at the front of the car and raises insistent eyebrows.

You end up buckling yourself into the front passenger seat with an exasperated sigh. You look over at Six. The tension has bled away from his face. He looks more relaxed, relieved even. He notices your stare and the two of you make eye contact. You roll your eyes pointedly at your sister’s antics. Six maintains a serious expression until it cracks and you’re rewarded with the bodyguard's smile.

Six's arm brushes ever so slightly against yours when he puts the vehicle into reverse and then into drive. The feeling of his warmth lingers like a brand on your skin. His watch hangs heavily around your wrist. You fight the urge to gently touch the gleaming metal and instead interlink your own fingers together hard enough to hurt.  

You spend the car ride sagged against the leather of the passenger seat, desperately trying to focus on the passing scenery and not the man seated next to you. Not his kindness, not the way he had kept you grounded. You tell yourself he was just doing his job. Any bodyguard would have been tender and careful with your sister…  and with you. You try to not read into what Six offering his watch to you for "safe keeping" might possibly mean.

Soon you're back at the house, waiting in the garage with your little sister while the hired man does a sweep of the building to make sure no one has breached the perimeter while it lay vacant. Claire is tucked against your side. She's bleary eyed with exhaustion. 

"Clear." Six's voice cuts into the silence of the garage.

You tow Claire along with you and sit her down at the table. She slumps with her cheek resting in her hand. You busy yourself with getting a bowl of ice cream set in front of her.

She gulps it down in huge mouthfuls. Six sits to your right at the head of the table while she eats. His eyes are focused on the screen of his laptop. You're sitting across from your sister, half curled up in the dining chair. The adrenaline has long since left your body, leaving you feeling heavy with exhaustion.

"You feeling better?" Six directs at Claire.

"Just another Thursday." She says with a shrug. "Uncle Donald and my sister say this is the best medicine. Ice cream. I tend to agree."

"They're smart people."

"Only family I got." 

Six’s response is instant, like he’ll choke on the words if he doesn’t get them out of his mouth fast enough. “Fitz’s the closest thing to family I’ve had in a long while.”

"Maybe that kind of makes us family." 

You catch the way that he smiles. He ducks his head to hide it, but you see the hopeless spread of it across his face. There’s something so tender and vulnerable in his eyes that you get stung by a pang in your chest. Your heart aches for the people sitting at the table with you. Claire for carrying the loss of your parents and Six for whose closest hint of a familial tie is his boss. You get pulled out of your spiraling thoughts by Claire yawning. 

"You should go to bed." His voice is soft.

You haul yourself to your feet, exhausting hanging on you like a blanket. You whisk Claire’s empty bowl away and gently touch her shoulder. “C’mon, you heard the man.” 

She grumbles a little and stands up with you. You’re about to guide her to her bedroom but she pauses and turns. “‘Night, Robot.”

“Goodnight, Claire.” He sounds exasperated with an undercurrent of amusement.

He doesn’t look away from the screen as you and your younger sister retire for the night. You fall into bed, wrung out from the hospital trip. It’s not until you’re firmly under the covers and settled into bed that you realize you’re still wearing Six’s watch. You stare at it, warring with yourself on if you should scrape yourself off of the mattress to go give it to the bodyguard keeping vigil at the table or to just set it aside to give to him in the morning. You do neither of those things. You fall asleep watching the silver metal reflect the moonlight peering through the shivering curtains. You do not dream of your past captors and their leering smiles that night. Instead, you dream of a comforting hand on your wrist, the gentle hum of a deep voice. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

The three of you settle back into routine following Claire’s hospital visit, but things have shifted slightly following that night. You gave Six his watch back the following morning before your sister got out of bed and before her nurse arrived for the day. He took it from your hesitantly offered hand. His thick fingers gently brushed your palm as he lifted the piece from it. Your wrist has felt desolate, too light ever since you took it off. You try to ignore it all, try to regain the distance you had before. You don’t succeed. Something about Uncle Fitz’s hired man keeps eroding the walls built from mistrust and agony. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You snap awake, soaked through with rapidly cooling sweat. You’re certain you didn’t scream out. Your throat isn’t sore, but your face is wet, moisture clinging to your lashes. You must have been silently sobbing through your nightmare. You uncurl yourself from your tensed position and drag yourself out of bed. You walk through the darkened hallway to the kitchen. You make sure to roughly trail your hand along the wall and clear your throat. It won’t do anyone any favors to startle Six. 

You get your glass of water and make your way into the main sprawl of rooms. The bodyguard is sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open, as he is most nights. You pull out a chair and sit down with your glass. You look at it hollowly, trying to ignore the lingering terror from your nightmares. You can't but notice Six’s eyes flickering over to you now and again. There’s a concerned crease between his eyebrows.

“Rough night?”

“The usual. As Claire says, it’s just another Thursday.” Your voice comes out more bitter than you intend. You tighten your grip on your cup until it feels like it might shatter in your hand. You force yourself to loosen your clenched fingers. 

The man seated at the table with you gives an acknowledging hum, sedately chewing his gum. He doesn’t press, doesn’t try to force any explanations out of you. You relax a little in your seat. Having another human being awake and nearby is a comfort. You rest your cheek on your hand and observe him. He looks tired. The light coming from the screen serves only to highlight the weariness weighing down his face and stooping his usually rigid shoulders. Looking at him like this reminds you of the night you watched this man and your sister interact after he drove you both home from Mount St. Mary’s. 

“She’s happier with you around, you know.”

There's such a long silence following your unprompted comment that you don't think he'll respond but he finally does. "She's a good kid."

"Yeah. Yeah she is." You don’t think you could have clung to life in the wake of the incident without her there to be strong for. Most weeks, she was the only reason you bothered to try to function.

You drain the rest of your glass and stand up. The ice clinks. You dump it in the sink and put the cup in the top rack of the dishwasher. You felt wrung out enough to attempt sleep again. You pause in the doorway and look back at the man at the table. "Six."

He looks up, eyebrow raised. His lips are slightly parted. 

"'Night."

"Goodnight." You can’t decipher his tone.

Your nightmares don’t return that night. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

About a month later, you’re screaming and thrashing in your bed. You’re choking under your captor’s hands, the sensation of soaked cloth over your face. You feel the pressure of those cruel fingers on your throat, over your mouth. Water moistening every ragged inhale. You can’t breathe.

Six’s response is all but instantaneous from the moment he hears your first scream. He pushes your door open, one hand on the knob and the other wrapped around his drawn gun. He’s sweeping his eyes across the dark room, There’s no attacker to find, there’s only you writhing on your bed, plagued by your own mind. He holsters his weapon and goes to your side. He tries calling your name, but there’s no acknowledgement, only your panicked wheezing. He puts one knee on the mattress for stability and grabs your upper arms. He tries to shake you awake. That gets a reaction. You start fighting him. Your hands claw and hit at him. He ignores it and repeats your name, asking you to wake up with an edge of desperation to his voice. He’s wildly unprepared for this. A physical enemy he can handle, but this…

You come out of it, going limp in his hold. Your chest is heaving. You blink away the lingering horrors of your dream and look up at him, horrified. For a split second your panic flares anew until you focus on his face. You remind yourself that you know this man, that you trust him with your sister’s life. He releases his grip on you and leans to turn on your bedside lamp. You wince against the explosion of light before bolting upright to reach towards his face. He’s scratched and you wonder if he’s going to be sporting a black eye. He lets your fingertips rest on his cheek for a heartbeat, something unreadable in his eyes before he’s withdrawing his knee from the mattress and standing at the side of your bed. He’s the picture of composure.

“I’m so sorry.” Guilt is suffocating you almost as much as the man in your nightmare. 

"You don't need to apologize. I should. I wasn't briefed about how to handle it." He sounds genuinely sorry, a touch of distress bleeding into his tone. It twists the knife of guilt deeper. You feel your eyes start to well. 

"No, no it's not your fault.. I don't want to be like this, I'm sorry." The tears spill over. You turn your face away and scrub your hands over your cheeks.

He hesitates and sits down on the bed next to you. There's a yawning span of distance between the two of you. There's not a hint of anger or frustration coming from him, not even pity. just.... sorrow. Understanding.

"Fitz briefed me on your history." It's blunt. matter of fact.

"Then you know about the...." You hesitate. 

"Yeah.” He answers before continuing. “Does he know how bad it gets?"

"No… I never told him all the details. I didn't want to burden him. He's got enough to worry about." You shrink into yourself. Your eyes focused on the items cluttering your nightstand.

"Your wellbeing isn't a burden." There it is. There’s a taste of the anger you’d been waiting for in his tone. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"I'm the stable one, Six. I can't let everyone down again ." You laugh a little, self-deprecating. You press your palms against your eyes. Baring down until stars explode behind your closed eyelids. 

He hums, and you feel the shift of the mattress as he stands up. You think he’s leaving, disgusted with you and your emotions, but the heat of his presence doesn’t go away. The warmth of him bleeds through your sleep clothes. You can feel him looking down at you. You nearly jump out of your skin when he nudges your arm. You look up at him, startled. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Come on.” He says, offering his hand to you. You take it. He easily guides you up onto shaky legs.

He has you follow him down the hallway and to the dining table. A path as familiar as an old friend by now. He motions for you to sit at the table, and you mutely follow his direction. You hear him move around in the kitchen. He returns with a bowl of ice cream and a full glass of water. He sits both in front of you.

"I have it on expert authority that this should help. All the smartest people I know support it." He's so serious sounding. You look at him flatly. He holds his grave expression for a beat before he winks. You crack a teary smile and lay into the ice cream like it personally insulted you.

He settles into a chair across from you while you eat. He occasionally glances over at the open laptop’s screen to check the security footage, but his main focus is on you. You feel a little self conscious under his gaze. You scour your mind for something to say, anything to lessen the intensity he’s directing towards you.

"Do you ever sleep? Like… go to bed sleep?" The question comes out of nowhere. a flash of surprise crosses his face. You'd seen him cross his arms in his chair and tip his head back. Caught him leaning  against the wall, hands in his pockets, hip cocked for stability. But the thought of him actually dressing down into pajamas and tucking himself under the blankets  seems.... implausible. too soft for this man who is alert and buttoned up into his crisp slacks and fitted shirts no matter the hour of the day. You half supposed he showered in the damn things.

"Not as often as I should. I don't sleep easy either." The honesty surprises you. 

"Why?" It's probing but you're too exhausted and raw to care.

"Too many memories. My line of work isn't exactly conducive to pleasant dreams." You wonder if he would have been willing to be so open this entire time or if something changed between the two of you. When would it have changed? Were the moments you found significant also important to him? Was he starting to crave your company in the inexplicable way as you’ve begun to crave his?

You almost apologize to him for prying, but you stop yourself. You nod instead. You understand how it is to have a beast pacing the maze of your sleeping mind, pulling out the threads of your worst memories like entrails for you to witness over and over again. 

"I still think about it… About them." You admit. Your eyes skitter across the table like a frightened mouse, focusing on Six's watch face before darting away. You can’t tell the time from this distance. There is a pressure welling up in your throat. Something is clawing its way out into the open.

“Talk to me.” His request is firm, paving the way for your words. He takes his watch off, a mirror of the other night. It slips free of his arm in the same way, inky black revealed on the underside of his wrist, tendons shifting, the movements delicate. He sets the watch on the table in front of you. The metal links clatter on the polished wood surface. You glance up at his face, shadowed in the dim light. “For safekeeping.” He remarks.

You reach out and lift it from the worn surface, running your fingers over the band. The weight is soothing in your grasp. The seconds tick by and it feels as though your heart is trying to race them. You finally open your mouth and release your burden.

“Claire had her birthday party that day. It was the last good day we had with our parents. It was hard to keep the security straight since there were so many people in the house. I didn’t think anything was wrong when two men came up to me and introduced them as part of the security detail. I still didn’t think it was weird when they asked me to come with them. How could I have been so stupid ?” Your breath catches, anger palpable in your voice. Six twitches like he might reach out, but he stills and you continue.

“They got me out of the house. I wasn’t strong enough to fight them off when they put me in the back of the SUV. They… they kept me for days asking questions I didn’t know the answers to. They didn’t like that I didn’t know anything. They tried to be more persuasive… so I started making up things. I just wanted them to stop but they wouldn’t. The wrong answer or the right answer, it didn’t matter. They offered me in exchange for a ransom and eventually they pulled me out of the basement. My parents were there to do the handoff. The guys wouldn’t let anyone else do it. We made it about three miles down the highway before they caught up with us and shot out the front tires. I don’t think they expected anyone to live after we went through the guardrail, so they just.. drove off. Left. I don’t know how long I was in the car staring at my parents. Claire was too young to understand that I ruined her life. I’ve been waiting for her to realize what I did. She hasn’t yet but she will.”

“How did you ruin it?” Quiet, disbelieving.

“I got our parents killed. I shouldn’t have gone with those men. I should’ve known better.” You hear a noise like a wounded animal. A creature left for roadkill, great heaving breaths rattling in that damaged chest. It’s you, you realize dully, you’re the animal. There’s a large hand enveloping your wrist. It’s Six and he’s holding onto you. 

“How could you know?” He asks. You shake your head, a sob escapes you. You feel shame. Grief. Six’s hand squeezes almost tight enough to hurt. It grounds you, you can’t escape into your own mind. Not with that insistent pressure to stay . You feel the metal of his watch biting into the skin of your palm. It’s a good kind of ache.

“It wasn’t your fault. You trusted people you were meant to trust. Who could blame you for that?” he insists. His eyes are too soft, too kind.

“Uncle Fitz.” It slips out, involuntary. You would bite your own tongue off if it could take back the betrayal. You don’t dare to look at the man seated across from you. You had all but swung a bat at the person who he said was the closest thing he had to family. 

His hand withdraws from your arm, and for a moment you’re certain that he’s going to walk off and leave you sitting here by yourself. He doesn’t, he surprises you once again. He simply leans further over the table, capturing your hands with his before plucking his watch from your ironclad grasp. He lays it over your much smaller wrist. He handles you with so much gentleness it almost hurts. He secures the clasp and simply… holds your hands. He says your name and you look up 

“Your family loves you.” He states simply. He says it like it’s an indisputable fact. Like it’s something as true and honest as the rotation of the Earth. You nod mutely. You can’t argue, not when he says it with so much assurance. He gives your hands a final, comforting squeeze and stands up. He gathers up your dishes, bowl, spoon, and glass. The bodyguard makes a soothing gesture to stay seated when you make a motion to rise and help him. You listen to the domestic sounds of him running the sink and loading your used dishes into the dishwasher. Your eyes start to drift shut. There’s a weight off your lungs, your burden has been dispersed, even just for a little while.

There’s a soft touch to your shoulder. It’s Six and he wants you back in bed. You get to your feet and let him escort you to your bedroom door. You feel oddly nervous, fidgeting with your fingers and avoiding meeting the hired man’s eyes. It feels like the awkward end of a weird date where everyone was too uncomfortably honest.. No matter how delusional that sounds even to yourself.

“Goodnight.” he’s the one who breaks the silence first. You feel relieved. 

“‘Night, Six.” is your response as you put your hand on the doorknob and slip into the room, away from his unreadable gaze. When you fall asleep for the second time that night, you dream of steady hands marked with prison tattoos.

───※ ·❆· ※───

The morning dawns without preamble. It feels like you have barely laid your head on the pillow. You check the time on the watch hanging loosely around your wrist. Less than four hours have passed since your night terror and subsequent comforting via the household bodyguard. Your morning routine feels more laborious than usual. Every movement feels like crawling through tilled soil. 

You’re dressed for the day and walking into the kitchen when you hear your little sister badgering Six. 

“What happened to you, Robot?” she asks.

You pop your head around the corner to take a look at the man she’s addressing. You stop cold. It’s a mess. He’s a mess. The skin around his left eye is puffy and bruised. There's clear nail marks on his cheeks and down to his neck. Any exposed skin had taken the brunt of your panic. You can even see some redness through his facial hair. You feel sick, betrayed again by your body. Your own hands had tried to tear him apart. 

"Well..." he starts and shrugs his jacket off. He folds it and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs.

He's about to go on his outdoor rounds, which you and Claire have secretly dubbed ‘enrichment time’, and continue wearing a trail into the yard. If he’s feeling particularly comfortable, he might sneak a nap in one of the lawn chairs now that the sun is up. Provided that he’s sure the two of you are secure and can survive without him awake for an hour or so. 

"Your sister beat me in a fight. I'll have to hand in my championship belt." It's relaxed and easy. He gives you a conspiratorial wink when Claire rolls her eyes with a scoff.

You match his earnest tone with your own. "You should have seen it, I was about to get the folding chair and everything."

“Ooh-kay, I’ll just assume it was a weird sex thing,” she comments, turning back to her breakfast. “Looks like you already won his watch though. Congrats.” 

Silence follows. Claire smugly scrapes her spoon around in her bowl, capturing every last shred of cereal. There’s a self-satisfied smile on her face. Neither of you protest. Either you let it go and hope she loses interest in the bit, or you launch into a defense that will only get her to double down. No matter what, you’ll be the losers. 

Six pushes a heavy exhale through his nose and walks out of the room. You follow him right out the back door and onto the deck. The two of you stand there for a moment in companionable silence. It’s beautiful out here. The sun is a sedate creature in the sky. She's lazily casting her rays over the yard. The water in the pool is sparkling in it, lapping playfully at the concrete walls. Six’s shoulders are still tense in your field of view. He looks as though he’s holding himself up through sheer force of will.

“I’m sorry again about last night.” You say to his back.

“Please don’t be. Things happen.” He says with a sigh. You falter. He sounds as exhausted as you feel.  You don't want to push the issue. 

He gestures for you to sit in one of the deck chairs by the pool. You don’t, instead choosing to trail him as he does his rounds. He’s lit by the sun. You’re in his shadow. His hair looks like a field of golden wheat. You almost want to run your hands though it in order to feel the softness for yourself. You instead soothe the urge by toying with the band of his watch still loosely encircling your wrist. He looks back at you every once in a while, eyes dazzlingly blue in the bright sunlight. You had never noticed the angles of his face before, the curves of his nose with its distinctive bump, the set of his cheekbones, how his facial hair is darker than the hair on his head. You hate that you're noticing these details now. After the events of last night, any tentative bond feels tainted.

The morning grows warmer as you drift behind him like a ghost. Eventually he rolls his sleeves up to reveal his forearms. You start to understand why people in bygone eras got so flustered at the sight of a lady's ankle. His wrists are bodice ripping enough, you suppose, but the space from his fingertips to the crook of his elbow? That is home to so much previously unseen skin. Had he been rolling up his sleeves every morning? If you had simply looked out one of the windows, would you have seen the sight that you’re witnessing now?  Would you have seen the distinct veins trailing up the insides of his muscular arms? What about the tattoos whose mere existence beg to have a finger trace along his skin? You avert your eyes, not wanting him to notice you staring. You tell yourself that it’s just the novelty of it all, that the surprise at seeing him less buttoned up will wear off.

With the rounds done, the two of you are back at your starting point. The bodyguard settles onto one of the deck chairs. He lets out a borderline obscene groan as he lets his body relax against the wood. His eyes flutter closed. He shifts slightly, another noise escapes his throat as he does. You make your way to the chair next to him on shaky legs, and drop into it. He doesn’t stir. You debate on standing up, you don’t, the thought of leaving his side makes you anxious. You make yourself comfortable in your seat. 

Through the open window, you can hear Claire’s record player. You hear the notes of Feel the Warm. She’s playing Mark Lindsay again. You let it wash over you. The sunlight is dappled across this part of the patio. You cast a glance over at your companion. His arms are crossed and he looks dead to the world. Your own eyelids are drooping, He’s the last thing you see before you drift off.

You wake up gradually, it’s an easy kind of waking. No wild jerk of consciousness, just the soft trickle of awareness. You’ve managed to curl on your side in the deck chair. You squirm upright and feel cloth slide down into your lap. It’s the hired man’s jacket. He must have gone back inside to get it. You touch it with hesitant fingers and look up, scanning for him. He’s currently out of sight, but you do see Claire in the hammock chair across the way. She’s engrossed in her phone and frantically tapping at the screen. You check the time on the watch in your possession before you catch a glimpse of Six coming up the patio steps from the lower yard. He’s got a sandwich in one hand and his own phone in the other. He’s intent on the device. He glances up and accidentally meets your eyes. He jumps slightly as if startled you’re awake. He recovers and gives you a nod.

“‘Morning.” His mouth is full. You know Claire will give him the tongue lashing of a lifetime if she notices.

"It's after twelve." You playfully retort, watching unimpressed as he fights to swallow the bread in his mouth. He’s really struggling for a second before he gets it down, his throat working roughly. You get to your feet, carefully folding his jacket over your arm. You approach him with it. 

"Good afternoon then." He says quietly. You swear you catch the ghost of a smile on his face as he looks at you. 

“Thanks for the blanket.” You say, offering it to him. He takes it with his unoccupied hand before shrugging it on, doing a quick change of hands with his lunch. 

You move to take off the watch and return that as well, but he stops you with a disapproving noise. “You’re keeping that safe for me, remember?”

You pause for a moment, mind racing wildly with the effort to make sense of his words. To find meaning in them. Your hand falls away from the metal and you surrender with a mute nod. If he wanted you to keep it for him for a while longer, who were you to protest? It’s a strange kind of comfort to have it. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

Things come to another disastrous head some weeks later. It happens after the nurse sees Claire tucked into bed before heading home for the evening. It happens after you give your sister your own goodnight wishes. You had gently brushed her hair from her face and gave her a kiss on the forehead even if she scrunches her face in mock disgust each time you do. There’s no telling which moment between the two of you will be the last. You hadn’t had the luxury of knowing that your mom’s wet pleas for help would be the last gift from her in that twisted hunk of metal. You wanted your little sister to have a happy memory of you if a goodnight ever turned into a goodbye. Less nightmares that way.

You had stood up from your seat on the edge of the bed, made sure to smooth her blanket out. “Sweet dreams, Claire.” you said before you extinguished the slow glow cast by the lamp on her nightstand. 

“‘Night,” she had said to you before yelling. “‘Night, Robot!” in the direction of the door. 

You heard a weary sounding response from the ‘robot’ in question. Six was hovering in the hallway, patiently waiting to escort you to your bedroom door. He’s been diligent in performing the action every single night without fail since your impromptu wrestling session with him. He also hasn’t let you return his watch to him yet. You closed the bedroom door behind you, stepped into the hall and nearly brushed against the tall man. He moved back only enough to give you the barest clearance to get past him so he could trail after you for the scant few steps to your own door. It seems lately that he’s been standing closer to you. It also seems like his eyes have been lingering more on your face than the surveillance feeds at night when you emerge from your room, wide eyed and shaken from whatever terror that had gripped you. Your exchanged goodnights haven’t been anything out of the ordinary though, even if his voice was lower… more intimate than it used to be.

The bubble officially bursts for you when you abruptly jerk awake. You assume it was a nightmare you can’t remember, though you don’t feel any of the usual symptoms. There’s no tremors or wild breathing. You’re just… awake. You think about laying in bed and trying to drift off, but there’s a sense of unease you can’t shake. You make up your mind and shuffle over to the door. Like any other night, you turn the knob and walk out into the hall.

Like a snare snatching a rabbit, rough hands seize you. Your mouth is covered, fingers digging in harshly. And with a sudden drop of your stomach, you register the sensation of a gun pressing into your side. The metal’s coldness burrows though the thin layer of your sleep shirt. You’re frozen in shock, mind racing. Where's Six? Where's the bodyguard uncle Fitz had hired? He was supposed to protect you and your sister. Keep you safe. Why wasn't he doing his job? Why was this man in the house? 

Tears start running down your face without your permission. Your sobs are broken off against the inside of your mouth. They can’t escape the crushing pressure. A scream you can’t release is building in your throat. What if this man did something to Claire?

The gun digs in deeper, grinding against your ribs. He drags you down the hall and into the living room. It’s dark and you flinch as you feel something sharp dig into one of your feet. You whimper. The floor is littered with broken glass. The sound of it shattering must have been what woke you up. 

“Shut up.” the man holding you hisses, giving you a tooth rattling shake while he leans over your shoulder to see where he’s steering you. His breath is sour. “Where is he?”  He must mean Six. 

The bodyguard must still be able to present a problem if this man is asking about him. You’re not completely alone in this. It’s enough to sharpen your mind. To direct your focus. Your eyes are straining to make out anything in the darkness. It’s a mess of shapes that are so familiar in the daylight, but they look like strangers in the darkness. You manage to recognize the coffee table before the attacker does and you pull your leg out of the way. He slams into it and stumbles. He curses loudly through the pain of hitting his shin on the corner. You see your opportunity and savagely bite the hand covering your mouth. The saltiness of blood washes over your tongue but you bury your teeth in deeper. The tendons and nerves give way beneath your teeth. You go until you hit bone and hang on. Even if you don’t make out of this alive, you’re going to make damn sure this fucker doesn’t get to keep full use of his fingers.

He’s groaning, blinded by the shock of pain. You dare to release your hold on him in order to slam the back of your head into his face as hard as you can, throwing yourself into a backwards jump to do so. He lets out a wounded noise and clutches his face. He’s completely let go of you to do so. The gun is on the floor now, dropped in the surprise of your retaliation. You skate awkwardly on the glass as you make a run for it. The floor feels wet under your feet as you sprint for the hall. You’re leaving a trail of bloody footprints in your wake. The scream you’ve felt building weakly escapes. It’s a too quiet utterance of Six’s name. You can’t find the ability to yell as loud as you need to. You’re nearly sightless from a lack of light and terrified tears. You’re battering against the walls and furniture like a moth around a lightbulb. You make it halfway down the hall to Claire’s bedroom when you feel it. A brush of the assailant’s hand against your back. He shouts when he misses you, and you jitter to the side, making contact with the wall right as he slams into the floor. You put your back to it and look down, eyes wide enough in terror to make out the shapes of two struggling men. 

Six is on top of the man who had grabbed you. His silhouette is identifiable even in the murky dark. Relief turns your legs into jelly. He’s come for you after all. You allow yourself to go limp and slide down the wall, curling up on the floor. You squeeze your eyes closed so you don’t have to put a visual to the violence you’re hearing. It’s wet, crunchy. Eventually you only hear the heaving breathing of one man. You don’t know how long you sit there shaking. 

You’re coaxed into opening your eyes by Six’s voice saying your name. Your bedroom door is ajar and the light is on, illuminating the hallway enough to comfortably see, but not enough to where you can’t pretend the dark smears and streaks are shadows. The attacker isn’t in the hall any more. Six is kneeling in front of you. He’s got a cut on his cheek but otherwise looks unharmed.

“Are you with me?” It’s said with aching concern.

"Yeah… Yeah I'm here." You’re all too aware of your stinging feet, the ache of your muscles, the pain in the back of your head. 

Relief floods his face at your words. He reaches out but stops himself before making contact with you. You notice that his knuckles are split open and already bruising. His hand hovers in the space between your bodies, trembling slightly like he can’t bear to touch you but withdrawing is equally torturous. You rock onto your knees and shove yourself into his arms instead. They’re instantly around you. He holds you to himself. It’s all you can do to cling to him in kind. If you could nestle alongside the lungs in his chest, you would make a home in his rib cage. 

"You did well. I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep him from you. His pals kept me busy." His voice is full of bitter frustration. 

You shake your head and speak against his collarbone. “Is Claire okay?”

"She slept right through it. She's still asleep. I just checked on her." He soothes, running a hand up and down your back.

“Good…” you respond, unspeakably thankful. You could cry.

“Do I have your permission to pick you and take you to your bed? I don’t want you walking with your feet like this.” 

“Yeah, but I’m too heavy?” You’re surprised and uncertain. Sure, he had slammed around a grown man like a rag doll, but what if….

“Believe me, you’re not.” He sounds almost amused.

He eases you up onto your knees and over his lap. He encourages you to put your arms over his shoulders. It’s startlingly intimate. You can easily see the fine lines around his eyes at this distance. His breath is warm and against your face, smelling faintly of the watermelon gum he chews. You have just a second to try and process it before he’s gaining a foothold. He stabilizes you with one thick arm under your thighs and his hand on your back. You reflexively gasp and clench the back of his jacket in your hands. Each of his steps is steady. There’s no sign of strain even as he navigates your bedroom doorway. He carefully lowers you to the edge of your mattress and withdraws his arm. Your thighs release their death grip against his hips and you settle into place, feet off the ground. You avoid looking at his face, you know yours feels like it’s on fire. 

You notice that he had already moved your trashcan to your bedside and collected the first aid kit and a roll of paper towels. He must have known you’d cooperate with him. He drags your desk chair over and takes a seat. He pats his thigh encouragingly, and you place your heel right above his knee. He steadies you with a firm hand around your ankle. He removes the shards of glass. He doesn't let you jerk away, not with the grip he has on you, even when the tweezers catch on a particularly deep piece. He works in silence and you eventually allow yourself to lay flat on the bed while he does his task. You don't ask what happened to the man in the hallway. You don't ask how Six got detained in the first place. He doesn’t volunteer the information. The time passes and you’re halfway asleep by the time he’s tying off the wrap securing the bandages on your other foot and carefully easing your leg back down from its elevated position on his thigh. 

"Please stay." You ask the ceiling. You feel more than see Six freeze in response to your question.

“I shouldn’t.” He sounds conflicted. You prop yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at him.

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that. It’s anything but that.”

You bite your lip and decide to throw all your cards on the table. “I sleep better when I'm around you. You keep the nightmares away.”

He looks surprised, devastated even. His demeanor couldn’t have been any different than if you had asked him to bare his neck and slit his own throat. Resigned, but he would still pick up the knife for you.

"Give me a minute," is his response. 

He gathers up the supplies and turns off the light on his way out of the room, plunging you into the familiar dark of your room. You're not sure what exactly he does while he’s away, but he comes back sans jacket and with his sleeves rolled up. He carries the acidic tang of cleaning chemicals. He settles back into your chair after tossing the laptop on the desk. The two of you watch each other for a moment 

"Are you okay?"

"Emotionally? I've been better. Physically? I'm fine. Just a few scratches and a bruised ego. " He's soft. You nod, reassured.  

You keep your eyes on his face. It’s lit by the soft glow of the screen. It’s become an unhealthy habit, observing this man. You drift off to sleep facing in his direction. He's there when you wake up. He's clearly gotten up at some point to shower, but he did come back to resume his sentence at your side. You greet each other and he excuses himself back to the common areas of the home.

───※ ·❆· ※───

It becomes a thing, you spending time in his presence outside of what follows your nightmares. Something changed in you after the attack. It has culminated in a strong desire to be near him, to be within the frame of his reassuring gaze. Most of the time but not always, you go with him on his surveillance rounds. You walk with him through the yard. It always feels a little like you’re two society members having a chaperoned walk, but it’s soothing. Routine. You’ve also begun sitting with him in the hours before bed. At the table or on the couch while he watches the TV. The two of you simply exist together. 

You rarely return to your room most nights, choosing instead to make your bed in the living room. If you lay just right on the couch, you can spot the bodyguard keeping watch throughout the night. His presence in the room eases your mind enough to allow you to peacefully sleep. You wish that he hasn’t become so essential. You don’t want to think about what your uncle’s return will mean.

He accepts your new routine without question. You notice that he always has the throw pillow moved from the armchair to the couch on the nights you don’t tell him you’re going to bed. There’s no blanket in the living room, but you usually wake up with his jacket of the day draped over you in lieu of one. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

One night, you and Claire manage to bully him into a game of monopoly after the nurse leaves. You’ve been made the banker because Six doesn’t trust your sister and she doesn’t trust him enough either. 

“You just landed on my boardwalk. That’s fourteen hundred bucks.” Claire announces.

Six takes his hand off the game piece and gives her a look . “I thought you owned the brown properties, not the blue ones.” 

She picks up the deeds for Boardwalk and Park Place and waves them pointedly in his direction. “Nope, fourteen hundred. Fork it over.”

Six lets out a genuinely flustered growl. You have to smother your laugh. He counts out the remainder of his money and tosses it in front of your sister. He’s woefully short and out of assets. You and Claire had run him ragged the course of the game until she managed to bankrupt you with some suspiciously underhand tactics. Looks like she got to Six as well. 

“I’m out.” He says, resigned. 

Claire stretches her arms over her head and lets out a satisfied sigh. She then slumps back into her chair in smug victory as the bodyguard extracts himself from his seat at the table to do his nightly check of the doors and windows. She leans over and taps the watch on your wrist. 

“He hasn’t won this back yet?”

“Oh… uh. No.” Your answer sounds flustered, even to you. 

Your little sister raises her eyebrows. There’s a mischievous gleam in her eyes and she opens her mouth to say something before pausing. She instead gets up and gives you a squeeze around the shoulders. You return it with a one armed hug. “‘Night, sis.” 

“‘Night. I’ll see you in the morning.” You return affectionately, letting her go. 

“‘Night, Robot!” She cheerily shouts. There’s a responding grumble from the direction of the garage. Claire flashes you a grin and a thumbs up. 

She’s in her room by the time Six finishes his checks. You’re in the middle of putting up the game when you feel the weight of his eyes on you. It’s just the two of you alone.  He sits back down at the table to help you with it. He’s like a fire against your left side. You’re surprised he didn’t sit in his usual spot at the head of the table.

He lets out a yawn that he can’t suppress. He’s more undone tonight than you’ve seen him yet. He’s wearing a t-shirt tucked into slacks today. No blazer. His hair is tousled, not smoothed into place with product like usual. You think he looks more approachable like this. Your hands touch when you both go to scrape the same pile of deeds off the table. You both freeze. You hear your heart pounding in your ears and with it muffling every other sound, you trail your fingers over the top of his. He shudders when you brush over his knuckles and skim over the dots tattooed into the meat of his thumb. He doesn’t move, staying perfectly still for your exploration. You reach the horse on his forearm and you think his breath hitches in response. You linger on the horse, using your pointer finger to trace its outline. You follow the swoop of its tail, down the outstretched hind leg. 

A soft groan from the man you’re touching makes you remember yourself. You withdraw your hand like you’ve been burnt. He twitches and jerks his own hand towards you like he’s about to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. You can still feel the sensation of his skin under your fingertips even as you glue your eyes to the remaining monopoly money and sort it into the tray with unsteady hands. You finish putting up the game in silence. You sleep in your own bed that night. He escorted you to your room. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You wake up weeping the next night. You lay on the couch staring at the living room ceiling while tears involuntarily run down the sides of your face. The imprint of spider webbing glass still swirling around in your mind. You must have made some kind of noise, because Six is making his way across the room. 

You sit up and take a swipe at your face. “I’m sorry.”

"You have to let it out somehow. May I?” He asks, gesturing to the space next at your side. You nod and scoot over to give him slightly more space.

He puts the ever present laptop with its surveillance feed on the coffee table before sitting down. You feel your cushion dip. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. He’s solid. He relaxes underneath the pressure of your body. You instantly feel better. You watch the cameras with him for a while, sighing along with him as the local monkeys throw the lid off the trashcan at the curb in search of a meal. You’ll have to clean up after them after the sun rises. It’s one of the downsides to living in Hong Kong. 

You stay leaning against him for a while, but a stiffness in your neck gets you to change position. Moving slowly so he’s fully aware of your movements, you carefully lay down. He’s taken the place of your improvised throw pillow cushion. Your head is resting on his thigh. He puts his hand on your upper arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He leaves it resting there, heavy and warm. 

You wake up a few hours later. The sun is cascading through the living room, throwing rainbow hues on the floor thanks to the decorative glassware. You’re comfortable, too comfortable you realize. Your eyes widen in horrified surprise. You’re still using the bodyguard as a pillow. He's shifted slightly through the night, more slumped and relaxed. He's slid down further, and your face is firmly pressed against his hip now instead of his thigh. You know that you’re going to have the imprint of one of his belt loops on your cheek. His arm is loosely draped over you with his hand tucked underneath your side, a bastardized attempt at spooning. You crane your neck to catch a glimpse of his face. He’s sound asleep. 

You try to sit up without disturbing him, but his arm tightens around you and applies pressure. You’re locked into place. Your mind races. If the nurse or, worse, Claire comes into the room and sees you and Six like this… You have to get up. You put a hand on his thigh and use it as a support to push yourself up. He’s instantly awake from the overt movement. He lifts his arm off your body and lets you sit up. You turn to say something, but find him already staring. His blue eyes are focused on you, they’re sleepy and confused but quickly sharpen to alertness. He looks vaguely distressed. All you can do is offer him a smile and squeeze his leg. You stand up and he follows. Your day goes as usual.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Your nights are largely the same, except that Six seems more distant. He doesn't linger as closely or as comfortably as he did before. Your interactions with the man are more professional. It’s as though weeks, months , of getting to know each other have been erased and you’re back at the beginning. Strangers again. It hurts. You miss him like hell even though he’s right there. Your sleep is worse. It’s almost as bad as in the weeks following the incident that started them in the first place, but they’re different. Amongst the disjointed scenes, there’s a broad shouldered man with dirty blond hair walking away from you in your nightmares now. You scream for him but no sound ever escapes you, just noiseless air. You never see his face. 

You finally have enough when he escorts you to your room one night. You haven’t slept on the couch for over a week, and he’s taken that as his cue to resume seeing you to your bedroom door. You turn to face him as always in the doorway. Instead of saying goodnight like you do every night, you confront him. It even catches you by surprise.

"You're avoiding me.” He doesn’t deny it and you think that hurts more than the newfound distance itself. 

“Why?” You ask only to get more silence. He won’t look at you. 

”What did I do wrong?” Your voice trembles and you hate it. You fumble to take off his watch, to return that final tie between the two of you. He reflexively clamps down on your wrist before you can undo the clasp, pinning your hand to your own wrist. He releases his near crushing grip almost immediately, but the ghost of it lingers. Point taken. You let your arms fall to your side in a clear display of frustration, willing him to talk.

“It wasn’t you. I  overstepped. Your uncle hired me to do a job and I've stepped beyond my purview. " The confession is rough. Torn out of him. The corner of his mouth pulls down in a grimace.

You stare at him blankly. "What?"

"I allowed myself to be too close with you. I apologize. I was unprofessional." He explains, but he won't quite meet your eyes. He hasn't for a while. Not since the morning following the night you fell asleep on him.

"You were... unprofessional?” You question, absolutely lost.

"Yes. I let my feelings about you affect me and my work.. I’ve become… compromised." It's matter of fact. It’s said like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.

You reach out and grab his jacket lapels. He looks at you like a beaten dog might, as though you might strike him. He makes no motion to pull himself from your grasp. You swallow hard and let out a breath.

"What about my feelings for you?" You ask. His breath catches and he shakes his head, disbelieving. 

“It would be better if you didn’t feel anything for me.” There’s heartbreak in his blue eyes even as he looks at you like there’s nothing else in the world he would rather be seeing. 

“Better for who?” Your mouth is unbearably dry as you ask the question.

“You. I’ll only jeopardize you.”

”Six…” 

You pull him down and you press your mouth against his. He's rigid and unmoving for a moment before he's kissing you like a dying man who has just been offered immortality. His hands come to rest on your back. He grips your clothing like it’s a lifeline keeping him from going under. You gently nip at his bottom lip and he gasps against your mouth, a broken little noise. He tastes like watermelon gum.

 You pull away. “Jeopardize me then.

That forces a quietly helpless laugh from him. "Now that was unprofessional." His voice is hoarse.

"I had to give you a proper example." 

"Good job. I feel exampled.”

" Good ." You say and kiss him again. He's ready for it this time. He keeps it slow. His hands gently trace your body. He's slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth against your side. You step back, walking him into your room. His breathing is ragged and he's gripping you with a desperation you can’t put your mind around. You stand there, intertwined in each other. His facial hair is rough against your skin but the burn feels good. Your hands make their way around his neck and you gently card your fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He makes a wounded sounding noise in response before he pulls away. His hand is cradling the side of your face to keep you in place while his eyes roam across your face. It's as though he’smemorizing you, imprinting the fine details of this moment into his mind. As though he’s preparing to say goodbye. He trails his fingers gently down your jaw before he lets his hand drop.

"Will you stay? Can we sleep?" You ask before he can make up a way to excuse himself.

There’s a dizzying moment of silence before his face softens. “Okay. Yeah.”

The two of you are left to navigate the awkwardness of getting ready for bed. You spin your finger around in a circle and Six immediately gets the idea. He puts his back to you while you change into your sleepwear as quickly as you can. You turn around after giving him the verbal ‘all good’ in time to see him pull off his jacket and toss it onto the desk chair he had occupied when you first realized how addicted you were becoming to him. He pulls his belt off, coils it around his hand before setting it aside. You watch him unbutton his dress shirt. His fingers work deftly to slip the buttons through the holes. He shrugs the shirt off and lays it over the jacket. He’s in his undershirt and slacks. He bends down to untie his shoes and sets them aside. He straightens up and there’s nervousness on his face. You’ve never seen him nervous before. Worried? Yes, but not nervous. 

You slide into the bed and fold down the other side of the blanket for him. You gesture for him to come lay down beside you. He approaches warily and settles in stiffly at your side. His head is on the pillow, hands overlapping on his stomach. He looks like a body in a coffin. You gently touch his hands. He jolts.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, letting your hand rest on top of his.

“I haven’t slept in the same bed as someone since I was a child,” he admits.

“Oh… and that was…?”

“Over twenty-five years ago.”

You allow yourself a moment to grieve for this man before you pull away to shut off the bedside lamp.. You roll onto your back and flop your arms to the side. “Come here then. I’ve used you as a pillow. It’s time for me to return the favor.”

You feel the mattress shift under his weight and he hesitates, hovering over you with arms braced on either side of your body. It’s intimate, having him over you in this way. It’s enough to make you want to kiss him again.You hear him draw breath to raise some kind of concern so you just wrap your arms around him and pull him down on top of you. The weight of him pins you into the mattress. It’s comforting. He’s heavy and warm, akin to a weighted blanket. Granted, a weighted blanket wouldn’t have a muscular thigh wedged between your legs or be breathing against your neck in a way that makes you want to shiver. You fight to ignore your body’s response to him and work on easing the tension that’s holding him rigid against you. 

He gradually relaxes as you trace your hands over his back. You feel more than hear him groan when you pass over a particularly sensitive spot. The rumble feels almost like a purr against your chest. You narrow in on that location, working your fingers into the tight muscle. He allows himself to go limp on top of you, no longer stiffly trying to spare you the brunt of his mass. You run your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as a reward for letting himself relax. It earns you a low moan and an involuntary shift of his hips. You’ll have to keep that reaction in mind for later. 

Six’s breathing soon evens out. Years of exhaustion and sleep deprivation have him rapidly sinking into the oblivion of sleep when offered such a precious comfort. You fall asleep with your hand still in his hair. You have the most peaceful rest of your adult life. There’s no night terrors, no pain, no fear, no longing, you just sleep .

The bodyguard is still asleep on top of you when you wake. His breath is whistling slightly through his nose. Not quite a snore, but it’s a sound that gets a fond smile out of you. You wish you could wake up like this every morning. Just this once has given you an insatiable longing for more. You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought of the future. Uncle Fitz is due to return from his trip soon, which means the dismissal of Six from the Fitzroy home to complete whatever assignment is next on his task board. You don’t figure him for the abandoning type though. That way of thinking about him doesn’t fit in with the loyalty and thoughtfulness you’ve seen him exercise in his time spent with you and your sister. You’re sure that he’ll find a way to stay in contact after this job ends. 

You gently smooth down his hair. He shifts and buries his face against the hollow of your throat more firmly. You pause, hoping you didn’t wake him, but then you hear a sleep roughened voice say, “Don’t stop on my account.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

#the gray man #sierra six #courtland gentry #sierra six x reader #the gray man fanfic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling character #the gray man (2022) #courtland gentry x reader #my work #my posts

[randomshyperson]

A pinch of paprika | Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: The night when Vision cooks for Wanda end very differently than how it went because you show up to save the dinner (and the girl). | Writing Challenge

Warning: None, it’s pure fluff with teasing and bad jokes.| Words: 1.269k

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

“Wanda, no one dislikes you.”

She would have chuckled at the Synthesized's clumsy attempt to improve her mood - It was kind, after all. - But she didn't get the chance. Another figure was entering the kitchen at the same moment Vision made the comment, and your teasing expression drew a much more sincere smile from her.

"Oh, don't speak for me, Microwave." You told him, only to look at the witch standing at the stove the next moment. "I haven't decided my opinion on that cute little witch yet."

Wanda giggles shyly at the nickname, blushing at the greeting wink you throw her. She doesn't know exactly when you two fell into this playful and comfortable dynamic, she just knows it happened and that she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Or well, maybe she could add something more...

"Hello, Miss Rogers." Vision greets half-heartedly at the sudden arrival. "I did not realize that you were still in the Tower. I figured with the current status of the Accords, you would have joined your brother..."

You waved - cutting him off as if the Robot's questioning mattered little to you. It was true because Wanda had your complete attention. Or, rather, almost, because you seemed quite curious about the pot of food.

"What is this supposed to be?" You ask her with the same tone as before, but now, much closer, enough to press your arms together when you lean in to smell the contents of the pan. 

Wanda holds the spoon a little tighter. "Vision was making dinner."

You frown, looking at the robot in surprise. "I thought you couldn't eat, champ."

The machine clears its throat (Or mimics the motion, whichever way it operates). 

"I was intending to raise Mrs. Maximoff's spirits." He clarifies by exchanging a look between you and Wanda. "Given the current circumstances, a comfort food should bring, well, comfort."

"Got it." You murmur offering a forced smile to the Synthesized. Wanda has no idea of the jealousy that burns in your chest at having to witness Vision think about this before you can. Screw the Accords for keeping you busy often enough. 

The next moment, you taste the food, and your reaction is much more exaggerated than Wanda's, and maybe it's on purpose.

"Dude, whatever it is you tried to do here, it needs an intervention." You sneer and it's mean enough for Wanda to give you a gentle nudge for the robot's expression. You sigh begrudgingly. "Tell you what, Wanda and I will go get some ingredients at the market and you stay away from the stove-"

But just as you make mention of leaving the kitchen, Vision stands in your way. He exchanges a quick glance with Wanda to your confused chuckle.

"I'm afraid this isn't the best idea, Miss Rogers." He starts evidently uncomfortable with the whole thing. 

"Dude. what the...?"

"Vision." Interferes with the witch, stepping forward. " Aren't you letting us leave?"

The Synthesized, clearly embarrassed, tries to keep his gaze on you. "I'm very sorry, but those were Mr.Stark's orders. Y/N, you shouldn't even be in the tower, but now that you are, Tony fears that other incidents might happen... It's all to ensure safety-"

The shove throws Vision at least five steps away. He locks his jaw, but you glare at him angrily. 

"Get out of my way, Vision." You warn between teeth, raising a finger at the other. "Don't play Stark's butler on me. I'll have your ass unplugged."

With a gentle point toward the Stone on his head, you lower your hand. The Synthesized, though hesitating for a second, eventually steps forward.

"If you want to leave, you have every freedom to do so." He says seriously. "But Miss Maximoff-"

"Comes with me." You cut in, grabbing Wanda's hand with a tug. She gasps softly and holds your wrist with her free one, divided on not causing more trouble or just following you wherever you want. Your expression remains irritated toward the robot. "What kind of fucking attitude is that now, Vision? Betraying your own family and all that bull shit. I thought you cared about Wanda."

Vision's posture breaks, and it is evident that he would have blushed if he could. The Synthesized lowers his head in shame, and you sigh to calm yourself. When you speak again, it is much more tender than before.

"Me and Wanda just get something decent to eat. No trouble, no fuss." You say and move at a slow pace. Vision makes no mention of interfering now, and remains head down. "In the meantime, call Tony and tell him to stop being a dick."

Wanda bites back a laugh, gently pushing you out of the kitchen.

It shouldn't surprise her that you drive her into the garage, nor that you steal - borrow without asking - one of Stark's pickup trucks either. But still, seeing the set of backpacks inside, Wanda has to confirm:

"We're not going to the market, are we?"

You laugh. "Of course not, little witch." You assure her, stepping inside at the same time she does. The garage door opens, and you waste no time in taking the car out through the back of the Compound, the longer way but one that would arouse less suspicion. Splitting your gaze between the road and Wanda, you speak again: "I really thought there was something strange about this quarantine of yours, I had to check it out. Do you really think I was gonna let Tony Stark ground you? Even worse, with a guard dog at the door? Fuck them all. I'm taking you somewhere safe."

"B-but your brother..."

Your hand finds hers. "He will fight his own battles, as always." You retort gently, lacing your fingers over her thigh. "He's always done everything for Bucky, Wands. Nothing is going to change that. And I...I have someone like that now and I understand him. I finally do."

Wanda swallows dryly, shifting her gaze to your joined hands, her heart thumping in her chest. "This someone...you're talking about Natasha, right?"

You burst out laughing so loudly that you almost lose control of the car. Wanda would have slapped you if you weren't holding her hand. "Oh my god, I'm going all Thelma and Louise on you right now and you think I like Natasha? What the fuck..."

"Can you stop the car, please?" She cuts you off, and you grimace. 

"We should probably move further away before-"

"I'm going to kiss you, asshole, and I don't want you to crash"

"Oh. Oh... O- okay, sure." You mumble quickly, very flushed. You let go of Wanda's hand only to shift gears, and you've barely parked on the side of the road and she's grabbing the collar of your shirt. 

The first kiss you share on the highway exit under the starry New York sky tastes like chicken seasoning.

You and Wanda break into breathless laughter. 

"Vision really is a terrible cook." You comment, feeling your stomach fill with nervous butterflies at the way Wanda is staring at you.

She giggles at the comment, helping you wipe some of the smeared lipstick from your lips. "And I'm still starving, detka. Can we get something to eat on the way?"

"Anything for my little witch." You assure with a passionate smile, and Wanda kisses you again before letting you get back to driving.

Many hours later, when Clint finds you guys at one of Natasha’s safe houses, he would pretend not to notice the lipstick marks fading into the collar of your shirt, nor the matching purple marks on Wanda's neck.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots

[cheonsarchive]

Sunghoon | Unspoken

Pairing: Sunghoon x Fem!Reader

Genre: College!AU, Best Friends to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Suggestive

Featuring: the rest of ENHYPEN, LE SSERAFIM, TXT, aespa

Warnings: Cursing, suggestive content, mentions of/implied sex (no explicit smut), reader is COMPLICATED (I'm sorry lmao), mentions of death

Summary: You expected your summer break to be all relaxed and cozy, that was until your best friend decided to confess to you out of the blue. Cue a chaotic summer full of complicated feelings, denial, miscommunication and even more pining for each other than before. Bonus: Jake giving decent advice for once!

Word Count: 18k (what)

Playlist: Ruelle - War of Hearts, Nick Jonas ft. Tove Lo - Close, Lana Del Rey - Born To Die, Lostboycrow - Powers, Chase Atlantic - Meddle About, Aquilo - Losing You, Harry Styles - Falling

Author's Note: I rose from the dead to bring you a long awaited Sunghoon oneshot! I'm not too happy with it actually, but I'm a perfectionist when it comes to Sunghoon and I feel like I can't reach his standard anyway, so whatever lol. The first confession scene was inspired by Little Women (recommendation!), because it was perfect and needed to be reproduced in an ENHYPEN context. I would appreciate any kind of feedback. ❤️

If you want to be tagged in future ENHYPEN scenarios, let me know!

Masterlist

The ring of the bell that announced the end of the lesson made you slump in your seat in relief. You never anticipated the familiar buzzing noise more than today, the last class before the summer break being over making a wave of excitement rush through your body.

This semester had been absolute hell and you couldn’t wait for the break to start to be able to live with an empty head, at least for a couple of weeks, before you had to start studying again. You managed to hand in your last paper the day before, so you could officially call it a day once your last class was over and leave campus as fast as possible. Your friend Yunjin wasn’t as lucky, though.

“I’m so jealous of you, I really need to work on my time management.” Yunjin huffs in disappointment, still having to hand in two papers before she can start her summer break. You smiled apologetically at her.

“No need to be though, you’ll go to Italy soon and have the greatest time sipping Aperol Spritz in the sun while I will rot here without you,” you pointed out.

“Don’t say that, you will probably chill at Sunghoon’s pool every day anyway. Plus, we’re gonna have the road trip coming up at the end of the break, remember? That’s gonna be so much fun!” she chimed.

Ah yes, the road trip. Your friend group has decided to go to the countryside for a few days at the end of each summer break to detox once more from the city (and university) life before the next semester starts. It was Yunjin’s idea and ever since it was planned she kept talking about it nonstop.

“We’ll see about Sunghoon’s pool. If Yeji is being annoying again, we might have to move somewhere else. Sunghoon has been complaining about how she has recently become really obsessed with this one boy at school and wants to throw a pool party to invite him,” you laughed, reminiscing the phone call you had with Sunghoon the other day where he kept complaining for an hour straight how annoying it is to have a younger sibling going through puberty. When you had told him that he was like that as well once, he firmly denied it, being his usual stubborn self.

“She’s growing so fast! I wonder how protective Sunghoon will be once she actually starts dating.” Yunjin wiggles her eyebrows at you. You let out a dry chuckle in response, imagination running wild about how whiny he would be, pretending to be cold and scary when he was actually a soft, loving brother to Yeji.

“He will be the absolute worst.” You shook your head in amusement. You knew Sunghoon like the back of your hand, so you knew that he would absolutely freak out if a boy dared to hurt his little sister. It was probably a natural response, one you wouldn’t know as you don’t have any siblings, but he was exaggerating a bit. Sometimes you wondered if he just wanted to fit into the overprotective big brother trope.

“Hello ladies! What are we talking about?” Heeseung greeted after suddenly walking next to you. You smiled back at him and could see a familiar relief in his eyes, one that was probably coating all of your faces. Next semester would be Heeseung’s last one in college, so the pressure was on.

“Just how Sunghoon is going be the worst big brother once his sister starts dating.” Yunjin shrugged and Heeseung broke out in a chuckle because he definitely agrees. You almost felt bad for shading Sunghoon like that, but you enjoyed teasing him about it.

“Do I even want to know how this topic came up? There is more than enough time to shit-talk Sunghoon later, we should be discussing how excited we are for the summer break instead!” Heeseung jumped up and down and you realized just how giddy he was because he rarely acts this hyper.

“We were! It’s not that exciting for me though, because I’m not going to travel like you two,” you defended, making both of them exchange glances and scoff in unison.

“Please, you wouldn’t survive without Sunghoon anyway. It’s not like you don’t enjoy spending every day with him during summer break.” Yunjin laughed and you glared it her.

It was true, though. Sunghoon and you were inseparable like pen and paper ever since you were in middle school. You spent the majority of time at each other’s homes, to the point where you wondered which place you should actually call your home, his or your own? But during exam season, you usually spend less time with each other because you’re too busy studying. So it has become your ritual to spend the beginning of summer break together to make up for the lost time. It was easy too because that was usually the time everyone else travelled anyway.

The fact that you never grew tired of each other really amazed everyone around you. Rumors started spreading quickly that you might be secretly dating, or at least crushing on each other. You’ve always confidently turned down such rumors, but especially Heeseung and Yunjin persisted that something was going on between you two and loved teasing you about it.

“If it’s about what I think it is, I don’t want to hear it.” You warned, seeing the suggestive look in their eyes. You grew tired of always having to defend your friendship with Sunghoon. Maybe because deep down, there was some truth to it.

Sunghoon and you fit each other like a glove. You always knew what the other one thinks without having to articulate it, you can talk about everything without feeling judged and you balance each other out with your skills and knowledge.

It already started in middle school. Sunghoon was more skilled in creative subjects whereas you were good in trickier ones like mathematics or chemistry. You started tutoring each other quickly, which helped both of you get through high school. He helped you with your art projects whereas you explained his math homework to him.

Sunghoon was there during many difficult times as well. He was there when you experienced your first heartbreak, and he comforted you when your grandpa died who you cherished so deeply. Even years later, when you confessed that you’re still struggling with his death, Sunghoon was quick to drop everything and come over to you to help you get through it.

And if that wasn’t enough, Sunghoon also grew incredibly handsome as time passed. Puberty really turned him into the best version of himself and it was no wonder many girls at university swooned over him. So really, wasn’t he perfect boyfriend material?

“No.” You turned to Yunjin with a surprised face, confusion written over your features. “You finally need to confront your feelings. Even a blind person can see that the connection you have is more than just friendship.”

You rolled your eyes. There was nothing to confront in your opinion, which made you really question why they couldn’t just drop the topic. Though you sometimes wondered if the longing gaze from Sunghoon held more than you thought.

“Yeah whatever. Call me when you’ve handed in your papers!” You announced your departure, hugging Yunjin extra tight since you probably won’t see her again before her trip overseas. You promised to keep in touch before you separated from your friends to get on the bus to Sunghoon’s house. He didn’t have classes today, so he slept in and waited at home, promising you to celebrate the beginning of summer break with fresh watermelon.

“Lord have mercy.” You said with eyes as big as the watermelon in front of you. Sunghoon smiled cheekily, proudly presenting his purchase from the market. He posed like a model, and you slapped his arm playfully.

“That must have cost you a fortune.” You said feeling guilty, head dropping slightly. Sunghoon let out a tut at that.

“Don’t worry about it. Celebrating summer break is definitely worth it and much needed. I have to distract myself from wanting to curse at Professor Yoon.” Sunghoon exclaimed, the last part making you giggle quietly.

He expertly cut the watermelon in triangles and handed you a piece before sitting down opposite from you on the terrace. The sun had been cooking you and you wondered whether you will really survive a day at the pool. You really enjoyed spending time at Sunghoon’s house because of his big pool, but it stops being enjoyable once the temperatures hit a certain degree mark. The watermelon was not just needed as a way of celebrating, but also as a refreshment.

Once you took the first bite, you sighed in satisfaction, making Sunghoon suppress a laugh. You looked at him with a grim expression and cheeks stuffed like a squirrel.

“What?”

“Nothing, sounds like you really needed that one too. And you look cute with your mouth full.” He said, mimicking how your cheeks must have looked to him.

Yunjin and Heeseung might have classified that as flirting, but you knew Sunghoon was just bickering with you. He dropped comments like that from time to time, knowing you would always react with an annoyed expression.

“So, how is Yeji’s dating life going?” you taunted, trying to change the topic as you remembered the conversation you had with Yunjin and Heeseung earlier. Sunghoon’s smile dropped instantly and he groaned in annoyance.

“Don’t remind me. I told her to stay away from that prick but she is persistent.” He elaborated despite not wanting to have this conversation.

“You don’t even know him and call him a prick!” you laughed at your best friend being unreasonable, almost choking on your watermelon slice in the process. Sunghoon fixed you with a glare.

“I don’t have to know him to know he’s an idiot.” He defended but you could only raise a brow at him in response.

“Okay, you boy expert. You must know better.” You fake-praised but he brushed you off, taking another bite from his watermelon slice.

“I just want the best for my sister.” He said matter-of-factly, words almost unintelligible due to him chewing on his watermelon.

“I know, but you need to relax a little bit. Let her experience her first heartbreak if necessary and focus on your own miserable love life instead.” You joked, but Sunghoon grew tense upon hearing the second half of your sentence. He looked at you through his lashes, the way you acted completely unbothered by what you had just said irking him.

Once you finished eating you decided it would be too hot to stay outside, so you went to Sunghoon’s room to kill time. You plopped onto his bed while he was sorting some laundry, talking about everything and nothing. Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon seemed stiff since earlier. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but you knew something was up with him today. It was like he was contemplating something.

For some reason, the topic of dating wouldn’t escape you today. Some time into the conversation, you drifted off to Yunjin’s boy escapades, laughing at the ridiculous stories she had told you.

You remembered Yunjin hooking up with that one guy from calculus, you guessed his name was Soobin, almost losing her virginity in a broom closet if it wasn’t for the janitor to catch them. She dropped him the moment she saw him drag another girl in said broom closet, able to imagine what was probably going on in there since she had first-hand experience. She never disclosed whether the janitor caught those two as well and you were oddly curious.

She started swiping on Tinder afterwards, meeting up with a guy whose name slipped from your memory, but you certainly remember the chaos that unfolded once she found out he was actually cheating on his girlfriend with her. For some reason, she was gravitating towards weird boys and she blamed it on them being Korean after a while.

So came Yunjin’s trip to Italy. It was honestly no surprise when she announced that she wants to start her “hot girl summer” experience with it. She started complaining about the lack of good-natured men around your campus and how she wants to try dating someone European. You started to question the intentions of her trip. Was it to relax and enjoy the Italian scenery, or was it to enjoy the Italian ‘scenery’?

“Maybe we should start our own hot girl and hot boy summer instead of being glued together all the time,” you fantasized absentmindedly, just the thought of it making you chuckle. You really weren’t the person to hit up strangers, and neither was he. Sunghoon tensed at your words, stopping in his tracks. His back was turned to you, but you could tell what you said stirred something in him. You patiently waited for his response, and he bit his lip, contemplating what to say.

“No, I don’t think that would be good.” he said quietly, but loud enough for you to hear. His breathing halted the moment you suggested getting to know other people.

“Why is that? I think you need to let go of the mysterious handsome guy image and finally get laid again.” you laughed, slightly confused by his changing demeanor.

“I don’t want to hook up with random girls.” He stated. At first, you didn’t think much of it. Sunghoon never seemed that interested in dating. He did have a short fling with a girl named Eunchae when he entered college, but it ended with a lot of tears and refusal to meet someone new. He tried to hook up here and there, but that stopped after a while too and you figured he might want to wait for a real girlfriend, not just some one-night stands with strangers.

It didn’t strike you how serious he was being about this. So, when he turned around to look at you, the atmosphere in the room shifted. His gaze held something you had never seen before. His gaze held so much, in fact, that it made you nervous. And like many times before, Sunghoon didn’t need to speak up for you to know what he meant. But unlike many times before, what he was thinking made your blood run cold.

“No.” you immediately blurted, eyes going wide in shock.

“Y/N, listen.” He rushed out once you started to get up from the bed.

“No, no. Sunghoon, please don’t.” you tried to shield from him, hoping it was all a misunderstanding. But things like misunderstandings weren’t in your code.

“Y/N it’s no use. We finally need to talk about this.”

“I think I’m going to be sick, I better go home,” you said, feeling the sudden urge to flee from the situation. You almost sprinted to the door and Sunghoon tried to block you from leaving his room, but you pushed him away in panic. As stubborn as he is, Sunghoon followed you suit, and you were glad that you two were alone at his house right now, because you wouldn’t want Yeji or his parents to overhear this conversation.

“Y/N please listen to me. I’ve started liking you a while ago already and I never said anything because I thought it wasn’t mutual. But sometimes I-… I just-… I got the feeling that we might have a chance as something more than friends. T-that you might want this too. I’ve waited so long for you to make a move and prove that I wasn’t imagining things and that you feel the same way for me. But it never happened, and I just can’t go on like this. I need you to know, okay?”

Sunghoon rambled so fast you almost couldn’t catch up with him, he blurted all that while you tried to get out of his house as quickly as possible. He kept going while you practically ran down the stairs, picking up your shoes and sliding into them. Before you turned the door knob of his front door, you turned around to look at him again. And it was a big mistake.

Sunghoon was wearing the most desperate expression you had ever witnessed. The fact that he just confessed to you made your stomach turn. You even noticed how his eyes turned glassy, was he crying? Disbelief was written over your face and all you could do was shake your head and say “No.” once more.

Something broke inside of Sunghoon when he became conscious of the fact that you were rejecting him at this moment. He mustered up the courage to tell you how he felt because everyone he had confined in told him you like him too and that he should finally tell you how he really feels. So, not only did he feel crushed by your rejection, but also by the backstab of his friends.

“Y/N I always thought we worked so well together, so I never understood why we couldn’t be more. Am I… Am I not good enough? I-is that the problem? If there is something I can change, let me know and I’ll-“

“Oh my God, Sunghoon, no. You’re literally perfect. I’m so grateful to have you by my side and I couldn’t be more thankful for all the times you comforted me and helped me to get out of trouble. You are honest and funny and- and you are committed, and I love you. But just not the way you want me to. I am sorry.” You interrupted him, feeling your eyes sting with tears, mirroring his. Sunghoon choked at your words. You realized at that moment that you haven’t seen him cry in ages. And to be the reason he was crying made you feel terrible.

“Please tell me why. I don’t understand.” He begged, sounding absolutely miserable while a tear managed to escape and run down his cheek slowly.

“I don’t know Sunghoon. I just don’t. We can’t ruin our friendship like this-”

“Who said this is ruining our friendship? Maybe we weren’t meant to be just friends in the first place!”

“Yes we were!” you snapped back at him, anger starting to bubble up inside of you, “Yes we were,” you repeated, more calmly this time, “don’t make this something it isn’t. Please.”

This was the moment you decided that you had to get out of there immediately. You couldn’t take the pressure anymore, the fact that he expected an answer from you. You were overwhelmed with the whole situation and couldn’t think straight, so your adrenaline rush decided for flight instead of fight. You quickly turned the door knob and rushed out of his home, leaving him behind.

“Y/N, wait!” was his last attempt to keep you by his side, but he was met with a door being slammed in his face instead. He stared at his front door in disbelief, trying to process what had just unfolded. How he ruined everything. Sunghoon wanted to hit himself for speaking up, he figured that he should have just stayed quiet instead. But it was eating at him how he was silently pining for you and you never reacted the way he wanted you to. It confused him how you always scoffed at him whenever he complimented you but enjoyed cuddling with him during your regular movie nights.

He always wondered if he was making everything up, if you weren’t giving him potential signs at all and he just interpreted them the wrong way. Yet, when he opened up to Jake about his crush for you Jake didn’t seem surprised and said that everyone knew you both liked each other. Emphasis on both. After some time passed, Jake reassured Sunghoon that it was no use pining like this and that he was sure you two were destined to be together. Sunghoon was still scared shitless because there was still the possibility of you rejecting him. And whatever happens, he can’t afford to lose you because of his stupid feelings.

Sunghoon can’t even remember when he started liking you. It randomly hit him one day when you were wiping some ketchup off his mouth after eating fries and his heart began to race uncontrollably. He started noticing how pretty your eyes and lips were, how well you carried yourself, how quick-witted you were and how you always seemed to be at ease when you were around him. He had an ability to calm you down that no one else had. And Sunghoon managed to mistake it for mutual interest.

Once you slammed the door in his face you stood in front of his house for a few minutes, trying to sort out your thoughts and get your feet to move. The gears in your head were turning at lightning speed and you couldn’t believe what had just happened. Wasn’t this what you always wanted?

You speculated if there was something more than friendship forming between you two from time to time. You started paying closer attention to Sunghoon’s small habits and the way he acts around you, appreciating the way he always puts your needs first and makes sure you’re always sorted first before he worries about himself. When your friends started asking about what you and Sunghoon were, you were quick to answer that you were just best friends, but you always questioned why they would ask that if you simply gave off friendship energy.

Sunghoon had everything you would look for in a partner. So why were you rejecting him? You never even calculated the possibility of him liking you back, and the sole idea of it made heat rush to your ears. For whatever reason it seemed so impossible to you that Sunghoon could hold similar feelings for you that you blatantly rejected any chance of you two getting into a relationship, pushing your feelings aside in the process. It annoyed you that your friends kept pushing you towards each other when it was clear as day to you that Sunghoon didn’t feel the same. For your own sanity, you couldn’t accept anything else.

It's been over two weeks since Sunghoon confessed to you. And ever since then, you two didn’t talk to each other at all. It was the longest time you went without texting, calling and seeing each other. And you hated every bit of it. You missed Sunghoon like crazy, not talking to him felt like torture.

“You wouldn’t survive without Sunghoon.“

You hated how your friend was right. But you couldn’t bring yourself to text or call him, let alone appear at his house. He was probably hoping for you to reach out because he didn’t contact you either. To be fair, it was your turn after you ran away from him like that. But to put it simply, you had no clue how to address this situation.

You had spent the last couple of days rereading your text messages, smiling at all the fond memories you made and the stupid memes you constantly shared with each other. It made your heart ache for him even more and you started being angry at him for ruining a perfectly fine friendship. Things should have just stayed the way they were and the fact that everything was different now bothered you to no end.

Apart from missing Sunghoon, you also felt incredibly bored. With Yunjin and Heeseung being out of the country, your closest friends were all unavailable and all you did was lay in bed all day and reminiscence old times. You wondered how this shift in Sunghoon and your relationship would affect the whole friend group dynamic. Did you just doom more than one friendship?

Your boredom got to the point where you considered texting friends you rarely hang out with out of pure desperation. However, you didn’t manage to send out the text messages you had written and rewritten several times. You felt like you sounded too eager and decided to just continue decaying in your room, hoping that Sunghoon will find the courage to reach out to you first.

When you felt your phone vibrate next to you, you have never been so fast to check who messaged you, obviously hoping that your and Sunghoon’s telepathy had worked once again and he was the one to reach out. When you were met with a notification from Ningning, you were slightly disappointed, to say the least. Nevertheless, you opened her message.

Ningning~: Hey Y/N! I haven’t heard from you in a while so I wanted to reach out again. How is your summer break? Are you in town? I wanted to ask if you would like to join me tomorrow. There’s a party hosted by Yeonjun and I thought maybe you’d like to come too! Just let me know xx

You sighed. You really weren’t in the mood to party. But you were also dying of boredom, so should you just ignore the offer you got at being less lonely and having some fun? Maybe it can distract you from this whole Sunghoon situation. Alcohol was always a good way to drown your feelings, right? Wrong, but who cares.

You: Hey Ning, thanks for reaching out! I’d love to go! Just text me the details and I’ll be there x

You cringed. It didn’t sound like you at all. You hoped she wouldn’t notice and ask what’s wrong because you only wanted to talk to Yunjin about this at the moment. You considered calling her, but she already announced on the first day of her trip that the internet is really bad and she probably won’t be able to call or text much. Great.

To your surprise, Ningning didn’t notice your strange demeanor, texted you all the important information and before you knew it, you were standing in front of Choi Yeonjun’s apartment. You took the chance to actually style yourself for once, usually being too lazy to put in any effort to look good during the summer break. It did give you a boost of confidence, but you still weren’t sure if the party was a good idea.

And you realized it definitely wasn’t a good idea when you entered the apartment and the first thing you saw was Park Sunghoon standing at the other end of the hallway talking to a friend. As if he had a radar for you, he immediately locked eyes with you from across the hallway. You couldn’t read his expression but noticed how you stared at each other for a solid five seconds. Your skin burned under his gaze and you couldn’t hold eye contact any longer, quickly disappearing from his sight into another room. Ningning was quick to organize drinks for you and she did an amazing job at chatting you up, making you forget about your unplanned encounter with Sunghoon.

Of course, Sunghoon was at the party. What did you expect? He’s close with Yeonjun, and the fact that you couldn’t put two and two together before going to the party baffled you. But it was too late to run away now, and you decided to just try and ignore Sunghoon as much as possible. To your surprise, you really didn’t catch a glimpse of him for the rest of the evening. In fact, everything started to blur once Karina joined you and Ningning with a round of shots. Afterwards, you continued downing shots like no tomorrow and before you knew it, you were seriously drunk.

You did know your limit and you stopped once you noticed how close you were to feeling sick, but that didn’t change the fact that you developed some mobility problems. You decided to sit down in the living room, but the moment your body met the sofa you started dissociating. With no idea how much time had passed since you plopped yourself on Yeonjun’s sofa, you were only pulled out of your trance when you were met with four pairs of eyes in front of you. Your vision was blurry and when you tried your best to make out who it was, you regretted it.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sunghoon asked, a worried expression painting his face. Ningning was next to him, she probably called him over because she didn’t know what to do. You blinked at him several times before you carefully picked your words, trying not to sound too drunk.

“Yeah, I’m great!” you yelled over the music with a smile, so loud that the people around you took notice of your state as well. Sunghoon sighed, he really wasn’t in the best state either, but he immediately sobered up a bit once Ningning asked for his help to get you home.

“Let me take you home, okay? Come on.” He reached out his hand for you and you had to focus really hard to be able to take it. Once you stood up you started swaying, noticing again just how much alcohol was in your system. Sunghoon detected your difficulty to simply stand straight as well, holding your lower arm to keep you from tipping over. He gently guided you to the door, mumbling something about how walking might be better for you to sober up.

The moment you went outside you took notice of the brisk air. It cooled down a lot and you were surprised how much it smelled like rain without actually having rained. You took a deep breath which helped you follow Sunghoon who kept a close eye on you. Whenever you were dangerously close to tripping, he would hold your arm to steady you and you quietly thanked him every time.

It was a long walk, and you didn’t exchange a word. However, it seemed to be a comfortable silence. You could feel tension between you two, but you knew that you weren’t in the right mind to discuss the depths of your relationship now. Yet, you wanted to test the water and whether there was bad blood between you two.

You decided to purposefully bump into him and when he looked at you in confusion, you just smiled playfully at him. It didn’t take him 2 seconds to reciprocate your smile and bump into you as a form of revenge. To his surprise, you still lost your balance faster than expected and almost landed face first on the ground. Sunghoon was quick to catch you and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh God, sorry!” he let out a breathy laugh and you couldn’t help but laugh with him, shaking your head to signal him it’s okay.

With a more lighthearted atmosphere you continued your descent to your home. It didn’t take you long to feel the cold air biting at your skin and with goosebumps grazing your body you confessed to Sunghoon that you felt cold. Unfortunately, Sunghoon didn’t bring a jacket with him either. Because his house was closer to Yeonjun’s apartment than yours, he offered to take you in for the night. Considering the tension between you, you were caught off guard by his offer, but accepted it nevertheless.

Once you made it to his house you rushed inside quickly. Sunghoon was home alone for the week because his parents and sister went to a holiday camp Sunghoon didn’t bother to join. You instantly felt home and realized how much you missed not only being by his side but also at his house.

“Is it okay if I shower?” you said, slightly sobered up but still a bit wobbly on your legs.

“Promise me you won’t drown?” Sunghoon asked sarcastically, there was a seriousness in his glance that told you he was only half-joking. You nodded in response and rushed to the bathroom.

When you got out of the shower you felt really hot suddenly, so Sunghoon offered to sit on the balcony for a bit. You sat down right at the edge, letting your feet dangle over it. Sunghoon joined you, not sparing you a glance but rather focusing on the clear sky above you.

You didn’t speak for a while, and you questioned whether it was a comfortable silence or not. You gulped nervously before you scraped together all the courage you had left.

“I’m sorry that I stormed out of your house the other day.”

You hoped your words didn’t sound too slurred and Sunghoon would understand it as a sincere apology and when you glanced at him you noticed how he smiled slightly, still not looking at you.

“It’s okay.”

A small smile crept up on your lips as you kept your eyes on him, examining his features. You never noticed until now just how pretty his moles are, they are a perfect addition to his face. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system, but you were suddenly craving to be near him.

Even though there were unspoken words between you, you decided to shuffle closer to him and lay your head on his shoulder. He jumped slightly for a second, not expecting the sudden affection, but he relaxed under you quickly, keeping his eyes on the sky. You didn’t know how much his heart was racing, but yours was uncontrollably beating out of your chest as well. You never felt this nervous around him before and you blamed it on the alcohol and the overall tension. Your heart was beating so fast because you were scared to lose him, right?

After a while, you noticed him shifting beneath you, turning his head towards you. You did the same and only noticed then just how close your faces were to each other’s. You could feel his breath on your face and figured that it would only take a few millimeters to close the distance between you two. Suddenly you were hyper aware of his every move, noticing how his eyes flickered between your own and your lips. You ended up doing the same, taking notice of the way his lips slightly parted, letting out a nervous huff.

The tension between you felt insufferable and you didn’t know where the sudden urge to kiss him came from. Sunghoon was slowly closing the distance between you two, giving you enough time to pull away. When he noticed that you weren’t going to, he finally captured his lips with yours. The kiss was slow and cautious, as if he was afraid you would still change your mind. His soft lips grazed yours and you needed more, becoming intoxicated by his scent. When your hand went up to his neck, he took that as a sign to deepen the kiss.

You don’t know how long you’ve kissed, but you only separated to gasp for air quickly before connecting your lips once again. You never felt a bliss like this before and started exploring his mouth as if you’d have to remember it because he could disappear from your grasp at any moment. Soon enough, your hands were all over each other and you figured that the balcony wasn’t comfortable, so you moved to Sunghoon’s bed to continue your makeout session.

You situated yourself on his lap and his hands wandered to your hips straight away, keeping you in place. You felt like you weren’t close enough, so you moved forwards, brushing your clothed core against his, eliciting a small gasp from him. When you noticed how a bulge was forming underneath you, you moved again, feeling Sunghoon’s hands on your hips tightening and guiding you on his crotch. The room filled with heavy breathing and before you knew it, you were dry humping him, feeling his erection grow beneath you.

Sunghoon quickly decided to attack your jaw and kiss down your neck, moving on to your shoulder while pushing the strap of your bra and top to the side to gain better access. You whimpered slightly, feeling overwhelmed by his ministrations. His hands were exploring every curve on your body and left behind a burning sensation on every part of bare skin he touched. When he reached the hem of your shirt again, he pulled away to look at you, pushing a strand of your hair out of your face.

“Do you really want to do this?” he whispered, searching for any sign of discomfort in your eyes. Your pupils were probably as blown as his, telling him all he needed to know, but he only continued once you nodded eagerly. You never expected Sunghoon to make you feel like this, and you couldn’t stop yourself no matter how hard you tried. So with your shirt gone, the rest of your clothes was soon to follow.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache, wincing slightly once you gained consciousness again. You did drink a lot, but you were still surprised how strong your hangover was. Taking notice of Sunghoon’s posters on the wall you didn’t think much, recalling how he brought you to his place because you were cold. However, when you noticed an arm around your waist, you froze. You slowly turned around to face Sunghoon, who was still dozing off next to you. Suddenly, you remembered what had happened last night. Images of you touching, exploring, feeling each other flooded your memory and your eyes almost popped out of your skull.

What did you do?! This wasn’t planned at all. You wanted to talk it out with him when the time was right and you both were sober again, not take it to the next level like this. Your breathing became uneven, and you noticed how a shiver ran down your spine.

As if on cue, Sunghoon stirred slightly, opening his eyes. When he looked at you still half-asleep, it was like he was staring at his most prized possession, and it overwhelmed you immediately.

“Good morning” he croaked out, voice still laced with sleep and a small smile playing on his lips. He closed his eyes again to stretch his body a bit, and when he finally opened his eyes fully to look at you, his expression dropped instantly. You just stared at him in shock and he felt his breath getting caught in his throat. He did not like that look at all.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, totally dreading your answer.

“What happened last night?” you asked, a question that was totally useless to ask since you already knew.

“You don’t remember?” Sunghoon questioned, noticing how his blood started running cold.

“I do, I just-“ you couldn’t find the words to express your thoughts right now. The whole situation stressed you out again, and you felt like you took advantage of Sunghoon when you both weren’t stone-cold sober.

“You didn’t enjoy it?” The moment he asked that question, you felt his touch on your skin again, the way he was holding you so carefully as if you were made out of porcelain. No matter how you twisted and turned it, you couldn’t say that you didn’t enjoy it. You did, very much in fact. But you still didn’t want it to happen, not like this.

“I- I did. It’s just… I felt like it was a mistake.” You said as you were slowly getting up, his arm that was around your side flopping down on the bed.

Hearing that sentence felt like being shot right in the chest, and Sunghoon slowly got up as well, looking at you in disbelief.

“Why would you say that?” he prompted carefully, trying to keep calm while noticing how you were collecting your jeans from the floor and squeezing yourself into them. This scene looked oddly familiar and Sunghoon started panicking.

“It shouldn’t have happened. Not like this. I’m sorry, I think I should go,” you managed to choke out, feeling like your airflow was cut off because you were so conflicted.

“Don’t do this to me. Not again.” He said, his voice becoming strict, a tone he had never used on you before.

You really didn’t want to do this to him. Not again. But something in you told you that this was a slip up, that you shouldn’t stay there, that you made a wrong decision under the influence. You didn’t know why you were so eager to get out of there, because deep down you knew this was exactly what you wanted. You craved him, now more than ever, but you manipulated yourself into thinking this wasn’t right. In your mind, you were ruining a perfectly fine friendship by hooking up with your best friend after a few shots of alcohol. You completely ignored the fact that he made the move on you again.

Ignoring his advances, you kept getting dressed, ready to leave until you were stopped by your best friend.

“Y/N, stop.” Sunghoon warned, once again using the tone you only heard him use on Yeji when she was being naughty. You gulped anxiously, turning around to face him. He stood in front of you in only his sweatpants, his milky skin glowing in the morning sun. He looked ethereal, and you hated it.

“I don’t get it. You apologized to me, craved being near me and I had the feeling you were just as into it as I was last night. And now you want to run from me again. What is going on?” he demanded an answer, and you could hear how frustrated he was. He ran a hand through his hair waiting for your response and all you could do was sigh.

“I don’t know, Sunghoon. I need time to think, okay?!” you were getting agitated because you realized you had no argument against it. Yes, you wanted this, yes you enjoyed it. And yet, you were terrified of the consequences. Of how quickly this escalated. Of how easily you managed to turn your friendship upside down.

“So I was good enough for a fuck and now you’re gonna dump me again? Is that it?” Sunghoon spat, and you were shocked at how petty he was getting. You had never witnessed him that angry before, not even with Yeji. He did rage from time to time, but never like this. And the fact that his anger was directed at you made your skin crawl.

“God, no! Don’t make conclusions like that. I just don’t want us to ruin our friendship, is it that hard to understand?!” your frustration was reflected in your raising volume, making Sunghoon flinch slightly. When you waited for Sunghoon’s reaction, you were stunned to see that he was laughing. A small chuckle escaped his lips before he clenched his jaw, looking at you with a gaze so cold it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Well, sorry to break it to you, Y/N. We already did.”

You gulped again, your shoulders that you had unconsciously raised in the heat of the argument relaxing when you smiled bitterly at him and nodded, tears blurring your vision.

“That’s too bad then.” You said in an unexpectedly calm voice before turning around and slamming the door of his room, leaving him behind just the way you did two weeks ago.

When Yunjin rang on your doorbell, she couldn’t wait to recite her trip in every detail. Apart from the beautiful cities she visited, the boys she got to know in Italy were also something to talk about. There was so much to unpack from that trip that she announced a meeting of minimum 3 hours and told you to prepare snacks and drinks.

You were happy that Yunjin was finally back, especially after everything that happened between you and Sunghoon. There has been complete radio silence once again, since you were 100% sure he was incredibly mad at you and called your friendship quits after this. At first you were weirdly okay with the situation until it hit you a few days later that you guys had ruined your year-long friendship with some drunk sex. You were still in denial about him confessing to you and you reciprocating his feelings, instead you blamed the night you two kissed and jumped to base four right after for the end of your friendship.

The worst part for you was that you felt like you couldn’t go back. Even if you admitted that this was what you craved, even if you apologized for the ways you pushed him away even though you didn’t mean it, the way the recent events unfolded made it impossible to start a healthy relationship. Everything turned so messy so quickly that you felt like you lost control of the situation and now that you might be able to regain it, it’s too late. Sunghoon looked at you with a sense of disappointment you will never forget. It haunted you at night.

So, you were glad that Yunjin was finally back because you needed a shoulder to cry on. You missed her like crazy and you hoped she had a better summer break than you did so far to distract you from your misery. But with the way she proclaimed her return, you were sure she had a lot of funny stories to share.

What Yunjin didn’t expect when you opened your apartment door was how awful you looked. Hair disheveled, eyes glassy, the bags under your eyes looking alarmingly dark. Nevertheless, she couldn’t hide her excitement.

“Girl!” she screeched, embracing you before you could take a good look at her. The hugs she gave were always extreme, but they were especially tight when you haven’t seen each other in a while. Once she separated from you and took another look at you, she knew something was wrong.

“You look terrible, what is going on?” she questioned, fixing the strands of hair that were in the wrong place. The deep sigh you let out was more than worrying to her and you could tell she was on edge immediately.

“It’s a long story, tell me about your holiday first!” you tried to chime but the exhaustion in your voice was evident. You took the bag she brought with her out of her hand and went to the living room, settling on the sofa where she joined you.

“No, my recap can wait. What’s wrong?” she was quick to clarify. Another sigh from your side. Where to begin?

“I slept with Sunghoon.” Wow. That was the worst part to begin with. Congratulations. The way Yunjin’s mouth dropped and her eyes went wide didn’t help at all.

“WHAT???” she asked in disbelief. When she realized that you weren’t joking, she threw her arms in the air.

“Fucking finally! I told you, you two were meant to be together! How was it? Is he a good kisser? How did this even happen? Oh my God I’m so excited Y/N I need to know all the details! This is so good!!” Yunjin squealed and her excitement scared the shit out of you. How were you going to explain to her that this was nothing like she wished for?

She looked at you expectantly, but you only stared at her with an apologetic look. Her excitement died down soon and she mirrored your expression, a pout forming on her lips.

“Wait, it is not good?” It was a rhetorical question, really. If it was a good thing, you wouldn’t look this miserable and instead be glowing or something. You could tell the gears in her head were turning. Suddenly her eyes were widening again and she put her hands over her mouth in shock.

“Oh my God, are you pregnant?” This actually made you chuckle. Now she was thinking way too far.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not pregnant.” You clarified, unable to hide your smile because you couldn’t believe how dramatic she was being.

“Then what is it?” she asked impatiently and you decided it might be best to start from the beginning. You recalled your last two encounters with Sunghoon, and you felt like Yunjin has never listened to you with such interest. A girl was invested.

When you finished Yunjin sighed heavily, her face dropping the more the story progressed. You had a pleading look in your eyes, begging for her advice.

“Girl, why did you make everything so complicated?” she finally asked and you were a bit appalled that she was attacking you.

“What do you mean, I did? Sunghoon started this.” You clarified, slightly offended.

“No honey, Sunghoon came clean about the feelings he’s been harboring for you for quite some time, something you’re still in denial about.” Yunjin pointed out and rightfully so. Sunghoon did what you couldn’t do: admit your feelings for him.

“But he shouldn’t have. We were totally fine and he had to make it awkward. The fact that we drunkenly slept with each other didn’t help at all.” You dropped your head in your hands. “I feel like we overstepped a line by having sex.” Yunjin was quick to shake her head.

“Y/N, you already overstepped a line when you started catching feelings for each other. I just don’t understand why you push him away like that when you like him too.” She reasoned, articulating your thoughts.

“I’m not sure if I really want this. We’ve been friends for so long, I need him by my side no matter what.” You replied, chewing on your lip nervously.

“So you’re scared that your relationship might not work out and you’ll lose him as a friend?”

“I think so. I just don’t want our friendship to be ruined over a stupid slipup. Maybe we mistake our feelings for platonic love and wouldn’t work out as a couple at all. And then we binned a totally fine friendship for no reason.” You noticed how verbalizing your worries really helped you deal with the whole situation. You debated this way too much on your own already, it was high time for another opinion.

“I get where you’re coming from. But you must view it from this perspective: You have the most important basis for a good relationship. Trust and good communication. Well, the latter until fairly recently at least. You hang out a lot and don’t get tired of each other. You can openly talk to him about everything. He’s always on your mind. There’s pretty much only the physical part missing. Which is why I need to ask if you didn’t enjoy it now that you got physically closer to him as well?”

It was like Yunjin was stating the obvious, but she helped you realize that there was not much to be afraid of. You felt safe around him and he felt safe around you and that was the most important thing. But you still were so hesitant, why?

“No, I definitely enjoyed it.” In fact, you’ve been thinking about nothing else but how soft his skin felt on yours and how pretty his lips are. And you felt like this made everything even more difficult, because there was still something keeping you from committing to him fully when there were so many indicators that you’re meant to be.

“Well then, you’re standing in your own way. I know you’re terrified that this might go wrong, but it will certainly go wrong if you don’t fix this. You both deserve to be happy. And personally, I think you’re happy if you’re together. Look what being apart from him does to you.” Yunjin pointed out, looking you up and down. You scoffed but knew she was right.

“I just don’t know how to fix it. I feel like it’s too late. He already waited too long and probably gave up on us.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. You can’t just drop someone that quickly. He’s probably struggling just as much as you.”

“You did what?!” Jake asked in shock, similar to Yunjin’s reaction.

“I confessed, and she rejected me. Twice.” Sunghoon repeated, kind of embarrassed.

“Dude, I can’t believe this. I always thought she liked you back.” Jake furrowed his brows, pondering whether he had also misinterpreted your behavior. To him, it was clear as day that you both shared a mutual romantic interest in each other but were too shy to address it. So, when Sunghoon revealed what he had done, he initially got excited.

“Yeah well, I thought so too, especially since we had sex that one night after a party and-“

“You guys had sex???”

“Jake… ugh. Yes, we did. We were both a bit drunk though.” Sunghoon reasoned but the sparkle in Jake’s eyes told him it was to no avail.

“I’m impressed, not gonna lie. You confessed and then jumped straight to base four. Did you learn from me?” Jake couldn’t help but laugh, he found that situation way too amusing for Sunghoon’s liking.

“Man, what even is base four… anyway. The point is, she said she wanted this and also admitted she enjoyed it, but she basically fled the scene the next morning and hasn’t been reaching out since. I just don’t fucking know anymore.” Sunghoon ruffled his hair in frustration and let out a deep groan. Just the thought of you leaving him behind in his room shattered his heart into a million pieces.

He just didn’t understand it. He was on cloud nine when you nodded that you wanted this too, pupils blown wide and breathing uneven. He could feel your heart pounding like crazy, similar to his own. The way you were holding him gave him all the cues he needed to claim you as his. And yet, you slipped from his embrace hours later. What could there possibly be that kept you from being with him? All the signs were there that you felt the same. Or so he thought.

“Maybe she’s scared. You’ve been friends for quite some time, I wouldn’t want to throw that away lightheartedly either just because I was horny and drunk one night.”

“But I don’t see why this wouldn’t work. We worked perfectly fine the last couple of years as friends. We literally complete each other. What more could you want?”

“It’s still commitment, Hoon. Friendships are easier to keep and end than relationships. I think Y/N wants to protect herself from possible heartbreak by keeping you in the friendzone.” Jake reasoned, and Sunghoon wondered when he became so intelligent.

“So, we’re ignoring the fact that she is breaking my heart in the process?”

“Of course not. And it’s on you how much time you give her to make a decision. Do what’s best for you. If you feel like this drains you more than you could get out of it, it’s best to cut ties. You guys overstepped the line now anyway.” Sunghoon was surprised by Jake’s reply, it felt like the wisest advice he had ever given. When he told Jake about his feelings the very first time, his friend was less helpful.

Sunghoon felt like the world was caving in on him and he finally needed to break out of his shell, finally confide in someone what has been bothering him lately. Whenever you guys planned a meeting, he was more excited than usual to see you. And when he did, he felt butterflies in his stomach whenever you laughed. When you hugged or cuddled on the couch, he noticed how he always wanted it to last longer, for him to be even closer to you. Whenever you made a stupid joke and bickered with him, he couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying every second of being with you.

He didn’t know what was happening to him. It scared him that somehow, he wanted more from you than before. More attention, more laughter, more contact. You were on his mind 24/7. He started noticing the smallest things about you. How you changed your clothing style over time. How you did your hair a little differently, playing around with various simple but pretty hairstyles. He noticed overall how good you looked.

Sunghoon paid attention to details he never cared about before. He started complimenting you more because he felt like he needed to point out that he noticed whenever you changed something about yourself or put in that extra effort to get ready. And he was the proudest when you smiled at him and thanked him for the compliment. Though, you soon stopped taking it seriously and figured it was probably just part of your bickering.

The way his feelings for you changed confused him and after a while of dealing with it himself, he finally needed another opinion. When he called Jake to ask if he could come over because he needed help, the latter was surprised, to say the least. Sunghoon rarely talked about his worries, and when he did, he talked about them with you and not Jake. So, what could it possibly be that made him choose Jake over you?

Oh yeah, well, that. Once Sunghoon laid out to Jake how he certainly noticed something shifted whenever he is with you he could only but chuckle, leaving Sunghoon with a perplexed stare.

“Nice bro, you finally noticed? You’re pretty much the last one to do so.”

“What do you mean?” Sunghoon asked, confusion written all over his face. Jake couldn’t help but giggle and shake his head at his oblivious friend.

Basically everyone had noticed how you two got a lot closer suddenly, which caused rumors to start spreading that you secretly started dating. Jake and Jay even had a bet going who asked the other out first and he couldn’t wait for Sunghoon to confess that he was in fact dating you.

Everyone had noticed. Everyone but you two.

“You got to be kidding me. You so obviously like her, it wasn’t necessarily hard to spot.” Jake pointed out, which made Sunghoon’s eyes grow big. He gulped nervously, unconsciously playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Do you think she knows too?” Sunghoon asked, his brows knit together. What if you knew and chose to ignore it? Talking to Jake made Sunghoon realize that the shift in his behavior around you correlated with a shift in his feelings for you. He liked you. And he knew he was screwed before Jake could answer.

“Nah dude. She probably is just as oblivious as you.” Jake clicked his tongue nonchalantly. That somehow made Sunghoon release a breath of relief.

“What do you reckon I should do?” Sunghoon questioned. He couldn’t believe he was asking Jake, a retired but previously notorious player, for dating advice. Only Chaewon was able to get him interested in the actual dating life, but he proved miserable at that. Chaewon could handle it, fortunately, but Jake wasn’t the best person to talk about feelings. He didn’t do those until fairly recently.

“I don’t know, just wait and see what happens.” Yeah, Jake was really useless in that field.

“You’re not helping.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes in annoyance, making Jake raise his hands in defense.

“Bro, what do you want me to say? Confess and run into a disaster because chances are she doesn’t like you back? I personally think it’s mutual by the way she behaves, but who am I to judge.” He reasoned and Sunghoon nodded understandingly.

He had no choice but to observe your behavior from now on to find any clue whether you like him too. Jake was absolute garbage at giving advice, but Sunghoon decided to cut him some slack this time since it actually seemed the right thing to do. Damn, what has Chaewon done to him?

Sunghoon answered the same back then as he did now.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

16 new messages in squaaaaad

Chaewonie ❤️: Guys, we haven’t had a cinema night in ages and they switched up the screening offer at our trusted cinema! How about dinner together with a cinema night as a squad now that we’ve all returned?

Hee Hee (seung): only if you promise not to make out with Jake three minutes into the movie

Ikeu: rude???

Ikeu: anyway, I’m in!

Meme Queen 😎: of course you are.

Ikeu: what’s with the disrespect today

Jjongsaeng: count me in too! dinner at our usual ahjumma? <3

Chaewonie ❤️: Obviously, I’ve been craving her Jjamppong the last few days!

DDEONU: I’m in too! so dinner’s on chaewon then?

Chaewonie ❤️: Dream about it Sunoo

Zuhaaa: count me in too

DDEONU: just checked the screenings, let’s go watch the new barbie movie!!

Hee Hee (seung): I changed my mind I won’t go

DDEONU: 😒

Meme Queen 😎: I’m in too by the way and I’m not a whiny little bitch like Heeseung so Barbie is fine

Hee Hee (seung) left the group chat

Meme Queen 😎: exactly what I’m talking ‘bout

You couldn’t help but chuckle at your stupid friends. Yunjin, who had her head in your lap, was similarly laughing at the text messages, especially when she added Heeseung back to the group chat and he started whining even more.

“Aren’t you going to write anything?” Yunjin prompted without looking at you.

“I don’t know if I’m going.” You admitted shyly, biting your lip. That made Yunjin turn her head to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Girl, don’t even think about cancelling.” She warned. You exhaled, throwing your phone away and running both hands over your face.

“Look, I just don’t want to make it awkward if Sunghoon is there.” You tried to explain, but Yunjin wasn’t buying it at all.

“Nah babe, we’re not doing that. Don’t destroy our friendship group because of something like that. Plus, it could be an opportunity to talk things out with Sunghoon.”

“If he joins.” You said absentmindedly. Yunjin clicked her tongue.

“And if he doesn’t then that’s on him and we’re going to have fun without him. But don’t ruin fun for yourself because he might be there. I know you want to go.” Ugh, you hated that Yunjin was (almost) always right.

“Fine.” You groaned.

Meme Queen 😎: I’m dragging Y/N along too

You cringed at the way Yunjin put it, but she wasn’t completely wrong. You weren’t too excited to go, because you had a bad feeling this could turn ugly if Sunghoon was to show up as well. Yes, it was a squad meeting, but you still had no idea how to act around him, let alone how he would act around you. Additionally, not everyone knew what went down. Yunjin had briefly updated Heeseung without too many details and you guessed Sunghoon might have told Jake, but other than that, no one was aware of the recent events. How awkward would that get?

Quite awkward. Sunghoon had announced that he would be coming as well, and since Yunjin already told everyone that you would be there too you had no way to back out of it. You persisted that you would show up together with Heeseung, too afraid that you might be the first to arrive and Sunghoon being second or the other way around.

To your surprise, Sunghoon was one of the last to arrive, very unlike him since he was always over-punctual. When you exchanged glances, a shiver ran down your spine. You tried to decipher his look but couldn’t, it held an emotion you had never seen before. You couldn’t hold his gaze either, quickly looking at Jake to greet him.

When Kazuha arrived at last, you went inside the restaurant to finally grab a bite. You only noticed then that you were starving, instantly plopping down on the first spot you saw. Yunjin sat down to your left and Jay aimed at joining you on your right, only to retreat while mumbling something about how Sunghoon is going to sit there anyway. It wasn’t intentional, Sunghoon and you always claimed to sit next to each other and sent grim looks to everyone who tried to get in your way. But this time was different.

Sunghoon and you exchanged shaky glances, still that undecipherable look in his eyes and with a small gulp, he situates himself on the other side of the table instead of next to you. This move earned confused glances from half the group, and you simply nodded with a sad expression coating your face. So that’s what we’re doing now, you thought. Great.

Thankfully, no one commented Sunghoon’s odd move and everyone sat down instead, Jay reclaiming the spot next to you. You could feel the tension at the table, something was in the air and everyone noticed. But no one dared to speak up. Those who knew just exchanged worried glances and those who didn’t simply looked confused. There was an unusual silence at the table before Chaewon finally managed to break the silence by asking what everyone wants to eat.

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding and the whole situation drained you from the get-go. How were you going to survive the rest of the evening after such a bumpy start? You tried not to stare at Sunghoon too much and whenever you caught a glimpse of him looking at you, you panicked and looked away instantly. Sunghoon wasn’t any better, acting quite absentminded until Jake bumped him under the table. With a demanding glance Sunghoon knew immediately what he was trying to tell him. Jake, similar to Yunjin, made it clear that no fun was cut from the evening just because of your miserable situation. Sunghoon tried his best to join the conversation, but everyone could tell that something was weird.

After a rather awkward meal you made your way to the cinema, Yunjin linking arms with you as you tried to calm your nerves. This wasn’t going to be easy. The fact that everyone noticed the tension between you and Sunghoon made you incredibly nervous and you figured that you had to talk about it sooner or later tonight.

When you reached the cinema and the mood was still off, your body acted faster than your mind. Without hesitation, you grabbed Sunghoon’s arm, who looked at you quite alarmed. With a gaze that conveyed “Can we talk?” Sunghoon quickly nodded and followed you behind the cinema. Yunjin and Jake quickly exchanged knowing yet uneasy glances when they saw you disappear behind the building.

Once you reached the backside of the cinema, you stopped in your tracks. Not noticing how you still held onto Sunghoon’s arm, only his verbal reminder brought you back to reality.

“You can let go now.” It scared you how cold he sounded. You didn’t know if it was the unusually chilly night or if his voice really lacked the warmth you were so used to. You realized that you had to face him sooner or later, back still turned to him. You knew that turning around and looking at him will most likely break you and you were right.

When you made eye contact, you kept seeing a look in his eyes that you couldn’t decode. You usually could guess his opinion on things or his overall mood by how he looked at you or others, but this was different. This was a look he had never worn before, and it scared you.

And you made another dreadful realization. Shit. You hadn’t prepared this conversation at all. You had brought him here and were now at a loss of words. He looked at you expectantly, obviously waiting for you to talk first since you were the one who dragged him there in the first place. Your brain was short-circuiting, so you blurted the first thing to pop up in your mind.

“Hi.” Mentally facepalming yourself, you closed your eyes and shook your head. Sunghoon didn’t react to that at all either, waiting for you to actually articulate what you want to tell him.

“Look, we need to talk.” Is all you could choke out in nervousness, your voice betraying you by breaking in the middle of the sentence.

“We do?” Sunghoon’s question caught you off-guard and you looked at him generally confused.

“Yes, don’t you think so?” you prompted in disbelief. Sunghoon shrugged.

“Oh I did, but you don’t strike me as the person who wants to talk about this anymore after last time.” He admitted and you cringed at his words. You realized at that moment that you did know that tone of his. He used that exact tone when breaking up with Eunchae, a conversation you overheard as he wanted you nearby when it happened. It’s the voice he uses when he’s built a barrier to protect himself.

He's built a barrier. The fact that he felt like he needs to protect himself from you emotionally ripped your heart out, but then again you couldn’t blame him. Everything you did made this a justifiable response. And you were to make it worse.

“Sunghoon.” You called out to him weakly and his gaze softened for a split second upon hearing you call his name in such desperation. “I didn’t want this to happen. Not like this, believe me,” you said while taking a step towards him.

He didn’t back off, and you took that as a sign to continue.

“I never wanted to lose you as a friend, the thought of it makes me sick, and I panicked when you suddenly confessed. I didn’t know how to act so I chose to run away.” You tried to explain your point of view and he patiently waited for you to continue, as if he waited for a specific sentence.

Tell him it was a mistake to run from him. Tell him you like him too. Tell him you want this too. For some reason, you just couldn’t articulate those feelings. For some sick, twisted reason, you still weren’t sure if this is what you really felt. You still didn’t come clear about your emotions, about whether your feelings for him are platonically or romantically coded. You felt like you still needed to find out.

With one more step forward, you closed the gap between Sunghoon and yourself. Without thinking this through you took his face into your hands, connecting your lips in a swift motion. Sunghoon seemed slightly taken aback by your action but responded to the kiss nevertheless, his arms immediately wandering to your waist. However, he was quick to break the kiss, tightening his grip on your waist to put some distance between you.

“What are you doing?” he questioned in a serious, slightly disappointed tone, his brows furrowed. You looked at him with big eyes.

“I’m trying to make things right.” You said weakly, feeling extremely small under his strong gaze.

“No, you’re testing the waters.” He said and gave your hips a small push to create more distance between you. Your arms fell to your side lifelessly, tears threatening to escape.

“No.” you tried to defend but Sunghoon was able to shut you down quickly.

“Yes, Y/N. I can tell you’re still not sure about this. So stop bullshitting me.” He said it calmly but it felt like he spat those words in your face.

“I don’t-“ you tried again but he interrupted straight away.

“Listen to me. If you can’t come clean about how you feel for me then that’s on you. But stop playing with my feelings in the process. For the sake of our year-long friendship, I think we should have at least that much respect for each other.”

You were absolutely speechless. The way he delivered those words to you, you felt like he wasn’t feeling any emotion at all. It scared you that Sunghoon, who was usually very vocal and expressive, could articulate something so dryly. Only then did you realized just how much you have fucked up.

You have hurt Sunghoon so much with your indecisiveness that he completely shut you out. Backed off emotionally from you. For him to say those things so easily, it made your heart ache. You opened your mouth to speak, to protest, but there was nothing to protest about.

He was right, you played with his heart. He was nothing but honest with you and you rejected him not once, but twice. And now you thought a weak excuse and a kiss could fix it? Oh, how naïve you were.

Sunghoon saw you open your mouth to speak but he quickly shook his head.

“This conversation is over.” He announced, turning on his heels and walking away to the rest of your friends. This time, he left you behind and you started to understand how shitty it must have felt when you did it to him.

You stood there motionlessly, unable to move while trying to process what just happened. You were sure you deserved it for how you acted previously but you still didn’t know how to handle this situation. You tried your best to keep your tears in and collect yourself so you can get back to the group, but tears kept rolling down your cheeks and you sobbed quietly, hoping not to catch the attention of your friends.

In the meantime, Sunghoon made it back to the group alone, earning confused glances from the rest of your friends.

“Where’s Y/N?” Sunoo asked, brows furrowed because something was definitely off but he didn’t want to insist.

“Oh, she’s coming soon. Don’t worry.” Sunghoon said nonchalantly, but Yunjin and Heeseung exchanged concerned glances. Yunjin debated checking on you, sensing that whatever went down behind the cinema didn’t end well. She examined Sunghoon’s look, and he gazed back at her, as if challenging her. What is wrong with him? He never acted like this before.

Deep down, Sunghoon was sweating. He tried his best to act normal, to not let it get to him how absolutely gutted he left you there. But he couldn’t help himself. All the pain he experienced the last couple of days made him become petty. With Jake telling him to be careful not to hurt himself too much while waiting for you he decided it might be best to push his feelings to the back of his head.

The full ordeal was swallowing him whole. He wanted nothing but to hold you, talk to you, be with you, hear your beautiful voice through the phone, see your little frown whenever you complained about something. He missed you like crazy but he didn’t push any further after being rejected twice already.

On the one hand, Sunghoon believed he did everything right. He couldn’t go on pretending you were just friends when he has been falling for you harder the more time passed. Being honest to himself and to you was what you had unofficially promised each other and he wanted to keep that promise no matter what.

On the other hand, Sunghoon believed he did everything wrong. He caused this trouble by being selfish and pushing you towards a relationship you might not even want. You worked out fine, and one should never change a running system, right?

Wrong. He knew your friendship was doomed the first time he caught his heart skipping a beat upon seeing you, the first time he imagined what your lips would feel like on his own, the first time he hugged you for a second longer than usual because he didn’t want to let go just yet. But he hoped it wouldn’t end the way it did just now. He was pretty certain that this was it.

Even if you decided you felt the same, you probably wouldn’t come back to him after he delivered such a terrible line in the coldest tone he had ever used on anybody. He was scared of himself that he managed to treat you like this. That the harshest words he had ever spoken were directed to you

A few minutes later, you mustered up the courage to join the rest, having successfully dried your tears and calmed down enough for others to see you. When you turned the corner, you heard Sunoo scream for you in excitement, making Yunjin’s head snap towards you.

“Y/N! There you are, finally. Come on guys, let’s go or we’ll miss the first few minutes!”

You were quick to shoot him a smile, trying your best to hide the fact you just finished crying and had to control yourself not to burst out in tears again. Yunjin was immediately able to uncover your mask and shot Sunghoon another look, trying to piece together what might have happened back there.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly enough for only you to hear, and you were fast to brush her off by nodding, but she didn’t buy it. You shot her a look that she shouldn’t persist and she got the memo, following you inside without prompting another question.

When Sunoo finished buying all the tickets and wanted to hand them out in seat order, he hesitated for a moment, not knowing whether he should put Sunghoon and you next to each other after he already refused to sit next to you during dinner. Noticing the stiff air between you (which really wasn’t hard to do), he decided against it and instead sat you next to Kazuha and Heeseung.

By now, no one in your friend group was unaware of the fact that Sunghoon and you were fighting, but no one dared to ask and interfere. Nevertheless, every time someone looked at you, they shot you apologetic glances and you swore you needed to get out of there. You really weren’t in the mood to watch a movie now, especially not a bubbly one like Barbie.

When you plopped down in your seat, you didn’t even bother shooting Sunghoon a glance as he passed you to sit further down the row. Heeseung sat next to you, whispering something about that you can leave if you feel uncomfortable, but you just ignored him. At the moment, your mind was blank and you just wanted the evening to end. You prayed to the gods that the movie will make you forget at least for a short while how heartbroken you are.

It seemed to work for the first half, however as the movie progressed you noticed how you replayed the conversation between Sunghoon and you in your mind endlessly. You couldn’t help but let one tear after another roll down your cheek, trying your best not to gain attention by sobbing. You sniffed as silently as you could but Heeseung noticed nevertheless.

And so did Sunghoon. When he looked over to you and saw you crying, he felt a sting in his heart. He really tried not to cry alongside with you, but the view he had of you not being able to control your tears ruined him. He tried hard to focus on the movie, noticing how Jake was studying his behavior next to him. Sunghoon chose to ignore it for his own sake. Just like you, he wanted to go home as quickly as possible.

Once the credits started rolling, you practically jolted from your seat to get out of the situation you were in. Of course the rest of your friend group took an eternity to get up, collect their stuff and leave the cinema. As soon as the warm summer air hit your nose, you turned around to everyone, announcing that you didn’t feel well and will leave early. Without bothering to wait for a response you turned on your heels, practically running away from the group, leaving a worried Yunjin and Heeseung behind.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just postpone the road trip until you figure things out?” Yunjin asked warily, wanting to make sure you really meant what you just told her.

“No way. Y’all waited so long for this! It’s our ritual as well. Please go, I just won’t join.” You clarified. You figured that after the cinema disaster, Sunghoon and you shouldn’t be in the same room for a while, not only for your own sakes, but also because it made the whole atmosphere awkward.

It was never your intention to affect your whole friend group with your problems, but here you were. You decided it was best for everyone if you were left out. You couldn’t see it since you were on the phone, but Yunjin shook her head firmly.

“And it’s also a ritual that we all go together. All of us. You included.”

“I get it, but I just don’t know how to act around Sunghoon and how he’ll act around me. I don’t want to ruin the trip for everyone.”

“Trust me, you will ruin it if you don’t come. Remember when Heeseung and Kazuha had a quick fling? The friend group didn’t break because of that either. Just act normal around him and you’ll be fine. You’re adults after all. I know you were so excited for the road trip, please don’t let that ruin the fun.” Yunjin tried to argue.

She felt slightly bad because it sounded like she was forcing you, but she knew that the squad road trip was your favorite part of the summer break. She was certain that this might be therapeutic for both you and Sunghoon. No way in hell would she let it happen that one of you left the friend group. She saw it as an opportunity to at least act civil around each other when in group settings.

“I know, I’m just scared to face him. What if I break out crying?” you played the worst scenarios in your head on how everyone would be annoyed by your whiny heartbroken ass.

“Then everyone will understand. The situation isn’t easy. And it’s okay to cry.” Yunjin reasoned. After the cinema night, everyone asked each other what happened between Sunghoon and you and the story spread like wildfire. When the first pitiful message from Chaewon arrived, you knew you were done for. You felt terrible for worrying everyone and you were afraid people were going to pick sides. To your relief, no one mentioned anything and left it to you two to solve the issue.

Yunjin noticed your hesitation and she could practically hear the way you wear nervously chewing your lip, so she sighed.

“Alright, listen. If you really don’t want to go, then don’t. We’ll understand. But I personally think it wouldn’t change anything if you stayed away. Unless you want to drown in your sorrows and don’t want me there to catch your tears. If you regret your decision it’s not my fault, just saying!”

You chuckled at her words. She was right, if you stayed home you would probably miss all of them and regret missing out on the fun. You promised yourself that you would try your best to act as normally as possible around Sunghoon. Still, the fact that you had to see him again scared you shitless.

Reflecting over the past few days made you come to the conclusion that you were incredibly stupid to deny him like that. You were angry at yourself that you couldn’t just admit that you liked him as much as he liked you. And even when you had another chance at making things right, you were still insecure whether it would be the right decision.

And now that you’re clear about your intentions, it was too late. Sunghoon ended the last conversation and you felt like it was final. There was no fixing now and no going back. So, you had to live with the fact that you ruined a potential relationship with your best friend who you had caught feelings for months ago. And no matter how you put it, it was a hard pill to swallow.

Little did you know that Sunghoon also regretted his decision. He came to realize that he might have been too harsh to you, that he reacted out of emotion and not reason. Sunghoon had never felt this strongly for anyone and it scared him, so he naturally thought he had to protect himself from potential heartbreak just like you tried prior. Guess you two were more similar than expected.

The more he thought about it, the more he understood where you were coming from. It was incredibly unfair how you treated him, but he started relating to it as he was going through a similar process now. Both of you made mistakes and both of you could have done better. What mattered now is how to fix it. And to say Sunghoon was terrified about his next steps was an understatement.

A couple of days later, you were all set and ready to go on the long-awaited road trip. You went over some requests with Yunjin, for example that you’d rather drive in a different car than Sunghoon so you won’t be stuck with him in a close space for hours. If you were in different cars, it would most likely be more comfortable for everyone involved, and Yunjin agreed.

You managed to squeeze yourself in the same car as Jay, who was driving, Heeseung, Kazuha and Chaewon. You were glad that you managed to get in Jay’s car because you believed him to be a better driver than Jake. Plus, Heeseung’s road trip playlist almost hit different, so you were in for a fun (and loud) ride.

Four hours passed by in a flash and you only realized that you arrived when Jay turned into the parking lot. Fortunately, the atmosphere in the car was lighthearted and you thanked yourself for making the decision to put yourself and Sunghoon in separate cars.

You also told Yunjin that you weren’t going to sleep in the same cabin as well, since that’s awkward. She respected that, assigning the cabins by gender anyway which earned groans from Chaewon and Jake who wanted to share one.

“You’re kidding right? The cabin is meant for 3 to 4 people, ain’t no way you’re going to do any nasty shit in there.” Yunjin scolded, earning a chuckle from the rest of the group.

“We were just going to cuddle, calm down.” Chaewon defended with a glare and Yunjin scoffed.

“Yeah sure, like last year?” Yunjin laughed and both Chaewon and Jake turned red, exchanging guilty looks. You couldn’t help but snort, catching everyone’s attention including Sunghoon’s. It was the first time you exchanged glances that day and you instantly felt goosebumps rise up your skin.

Was he always that handsome? You had a feeling Sunghoon looked even better than usual, or you were imagining things because you had been idolizing him the past couple of days. The more you contemplated your friendship, the more you realized how perfect he was. Seeing him now just confirmed your theories. You had been absolutely blind the last couple of months.

You gulped and quickly looked away, unable to catch the small smile that was playing on Sunghoon’s lips. He loved seeing you have fun and hearing you chuckle made his heart swell. Sunghoon realized he’s been so stupidly in love with you that there was no way he wasn’t trying to fix whatever you had ruined. He just didn’t know how he was to do that.

Once you dropped your stuff inside the cabin, half of your group went straight to the beach. Yunjin caught up with you and bumped your shoulder playfully, making you laugh. Even though you still felt down because of the whole situation with your best friend, you were really excited and relieved that you decided to go on the road trip. The beach and the scent of salt water instantly gave you serotonin and the karaoke session you had in the car raised your mood as well.

“How was the car ride? Ours was pretty boring, everyone slept half of the time and I don’t think Sunghoon has said a single thing the entire ride.” Yunjin recited and hearing his name made your heart skip a beat. As if on cue, Sunghoon was running past you to catch up with Jake, sparing you a quick glance. You didn’t know how to react, so you simply turned to Yunjin furrowing your brows in question.

Sunghoon always claimed himself to be an introvert, but you knew that especially in your friend group, he was glowing and more talkative than ever. The fact that he was quiet, even today, worried you. Yunjin could tell by the way you bit your lip that you were contemplating something.

“Will you try and talk to him?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Your attention quickly shifted towards Heeseung who was picking up Chaewon like it was nothing, running with her to the sea and throwing her into the water despite her obvious protests. She screeched in panic and when she got out of the water, she scowled at him.

“Oh, you wanna get fucked up.” She announced, fixing him with a challenging look and you could see Heeseung’s eyes turning wide before she lounges herself at him. He was quick to dodge her attack, running away as fast as he can despite the water inevitably slowing him down. When he locked eyes with you, it was like he locked in a new target.

The glint in Heeseung’s eyes scared you and the moment he approached you, you felt your heart sink into your stomach. Before you could object he was next to you, grabbing you by the hip and throwing you over his shoulder.

“You’re next.” He giggled and ignored the way you slapped his back and screamed for him to let you go. Unable to prepare yourself in time, you were suddenly being met with the cold ocean water engulfing your body. When you broke through the surface, you couldn’t help but burst out in laughter, a sound Sunghoon missed so dearly that when he took notice, his heart fluttered.

Even more laughter erupted from you when Chaewon kept her promise and surprised Heeseung from behind, pushing him underwater as well. The antics continued until you rescued yourself to the shore, Yunjin promptly throwing a towel your way. Jake was quick to catch Sunghoon’s longing gaze for you but decided not to blurt a stupid comment, instead smiling at the pining of his friend.

Once you settled down on the beach you stripped out of the shirt that you initially planned to keep dry, but Heeseung destroyed those plans. While wringing out the access water from the shirt, you observed how Sunghoon and Jake stripped out of their shirts as well, ready to join your other friends in the water. Upon seeing Sunghoon’s toned abdomen, you were instantly reminded of the night you shared together. It made your stomach twist knowing you could have had all this to yourself and let it slip from your grasp.

“Okay, now you’re just blatantly staring.” Yunjin commented with a click of her tongue and a chuckle, following your gaze. You were glad that the temperatures made your face blush already so Yunjin couldn’t detect the heat climbing up your cheeks.

When Jake noticed your fixated gaze on Sunghoon, he quickly whispered something to the latter, making him turn around in an instant to lock eyes with you. Your eyes widened immediately and you tried to be nonchalant about it, looking away quickly. Both guys smirked at that, making Jake lean into Sunghoon once more.

“What is that? You guys are acting like two teenagers going through puberty who are obviously crushing on each other but too shy to strike up conversation.” He pointed out and Sunghoon let out a deep, long sigh. If only it was that easy, he thought.

After you tired yourselves out in the water, you decided for a cliché bonfire to end the night. Sunghoon plopped himself down at the other end of the bonfire opposite from you, the flames almost swallowing your view on him. You didn’t know if he did that on purpose, but you couldn’t help and steal glances from each other whenever you were roasting marshmallows. This didn’t go unnoticed by anyone and Sunoo ended up judging you hard for constantly shooting heart eyes at each other from afar.

You actually hadn’t talked all day, it was silent pining from both sides and it made your friends go absolutely crazy. Could you finally get it over with?

Unfortunately, the pining continued the next couple of days, neither of you ready to approach the other. It was frustrating you, to say the least. You figured that it was his turn to come to you after he ended the conversation the last time. Additionally, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself again like you did at the cinema.

You couldn’t pinpoint the atmosphere between you two, it seemed somewhat stiff yet not as terrible as it was during the cinema night. Anyone could tell that you both reflected on your behaviors and had a different mindset from before, so it was just as frustrating for your friends to notice your constant pining. Sunoo judged even harder than usual.

Yunjin tried to talk some sense into you, but you swiftly refused to make the first step. She ruffled her hair in frustration while washing her face to get ready for bed.

“Y/N please. Put your pride aside for once, this isn’t going anywhere.” She nagged in a way that reminded you of a typical Korean ahjumma.

“Y/N I have to agree with Yunjin for once. This is absolutely nerve-wrecking for all sides.” Chaewon added, turning around in her chair and interrupting her skincare routine.

You groaned. Couldn’t they let you deal with that alone? The situation was hard enough as is, it didn’t help that eight people kept track of your every move on top of it.

In the cabin next to yours, the boys were similarly pushy towards Sunghoon, earning annoyed glances from him. Like you, it annoyed him how everyone was observing and waiting for one of you to make a move. He wanted to figure this out with you alone, not while a whole group of people was watching.

That night, the constant nagging from your friends made you spiral into overthinking everything again. You dissected your conversations with Sunghoon once more, not able to get a wink of sleep or even feel tired. The whole ordeal stressed you out to the point where you needed to let go a bit. Not wanting to bother your cabinmates, you snuck outside, making your way to the pier to sit down and watch the moon a bit. The warm breeze that tickled your nose made you inhale deeply.

Such a beautiful vacation that is troubled by Sunghoon and my relationship, you thought. You really made it difficult for yourselves. This could have been so easy and yet you chose to do it the hard way. You still wondered why your head blocked you from telling Sunghoon what your heart wanted all this time. Why it took you so long to let those feelings take over. Why it was met with so much denial from your end in the first place.

You were now more sure than ever that you wanted to have Sunghoon by your side. The thought of having to continue life without him scared you to bits and you hoped you would never have to experience the reality of it, even though there was still a possibility he wouldn’t let you in anymore.

The more you thought about it, the more overwhelmed you became. A single tear ran down your cheek, quickly followed by another until you were silently sobbing into nothingness, the vision of the moon in front of you becoming blurry.

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped you out of your daze and you quickly wiped your tears, thinking it was one of the lifeguards scolding you for being on the pier so late. You were about to utter a half-assed apology when you turned around only to be met with Sunghoon standing a few feet away from you on the pier.

Sunghoon couldn’t doze off either, staring at the ceiling when he picked up a shuffling sound outside. He silently got up, making sure not to wake the others, and went over to the window only to see you emerge on a journey to the pier. He didn’t know what came over him, but his feet moved on their own and before he knew it, he was at the pier too.

It felt like everything froze for a moment when you locked eyes, a concern shading his gaze that made you shiver. You didn’t know what to say, your heartbeat picking up from his mere presence. You never noticed the effect he had on you until this trip.

“I’ve never liked to see you cry.” He said softly, almost as if he was pitying you, but you knew how he meant it. You sniffed in response, turning around since you suddenly felt hyperaware about how ugly you must have looked right at that moment.

The wood creaked underneath Sunghoon when he approached you, slow and cautious as if he was afraid you would freak out otherwise. When he stood right behind you, he contemplated his next move, biting his lip nervously. Just like you, he hadn’t thought this through. Suddenly standing in front of you overwhelmed him, and he needed a moment to calculate his next move.

“May I?” he suddenly asked, pointing at the spot next to you. You didn’t dare look at him now that he was so close, so you simply nodded. From the corner of your eye you could make out how he was sitting down. Scared to make eye contact you focused intently on the clouds forming above you.

Silence engulfed you and the only sound you could make out is that of the waves crashing at the poles of the pier. You didn’t know how to strike conversation and he seemed similarly in thought of how to carry on. Suddenly you wondered if he wasn’t saying much because he was still mad at you, and the thought alone made you anxious. You sighed heavily, being overly curious all of a sudden.

“Will you ever not be mad at me anymore?” you spoke up carefully, afraid that this question alone will make him snap. He turned out to be very calm, though. You didn’t know if that soothed your nerves or freaked you out even more. Sunghoon had the faintest of smiles playing on his lips.

“I’m not mad at you. I was disappointed and confused because I couldn’t figure you out.” He explained, making you scoff.

“I couldn’t even figure myself out, how were you supposed to?” you turned to him with curved eyebrows, and it was the first time on the trip that you saw him this close. The look in his eyes held something you couldn’t quite pin down again, but this time, it was much softer. It calmed you down, sending an exciting shiver down your spine.

His smile grew upon your rhetorical question and you swore he never looked better. You loved seeing him smile, seeing those dimples forming. You couldn’t help but mirror his expression, silently exchanging words you didn’t dare to speak out loud. You noticed how this situation calmed you down and made you incredibly nervous at the same time. You didn’t know where this was going.

Your smile dropped suddenly, and so did Sunghoon’s. He furrowed his brows softly, and you wished to flatten the crease forming between his eyebrows. Anxiety glossed over your eyes and you decided to be honest with him.

“I’m scared, Sunghoon.” He nodded understandingly and it looked like relief washed over him. For a moment he got terrified, thinking that you might turn him down once more. It wouldn’t make sense, but nothing made sense to him anymore anyway.

“I’m scared too.” He admitted, looking down at this hands that he was fidgeting agitatedly. You couldn’t describe it, but he looked tense and relaxed at the same time. Tensed because he was fearing ultimate rejection, relaxed because no matter what, your presence eased his mind.

Your mind suddenly threw you back to everything you two had been through. Several tragic exam seasons, friends of yours moving away, petty fights in the group chat over something completely stupid and reconciliations joined by tears and hugs, heartbreaks on both ends and comfort when each other’s grandparents died. You had survived so many tragedies together, so there was logically speaking no way you could not overcome this one.

Realization hit you that it was now or never. You had to tell him how you feel, honestly this time. No hiding, no beating around the bush. You forced yourself to say the words you were scared of for so long.

“I like you.”

It took Sunghoon’s head only a millisecond to snap towards you, as if he had to make sure what he heard was really what you had said. You locked eyes again and the way his gaze changed almost made your heart jump through your chest. He looked like he had finally heard the words he wanted to hear from you for such a long time. The only thing he ever wanted to hear from you.

Sunghoon was malfunctioning because now that you had finally confessed to him, he didn’t know what to do. As stupid as it sounds, because he had more than enough time, he didn’t prepare for this scenario. Not even in his daydreams did he play this scene out in his head. He had always skipped the awkward confession and jumped right into the domestic relationship stuff.

Sunghoon gulped and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. There was only one right answer, and he knew it.

“I like you too.”  

The sparkle in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon when he uttered those words again, the words that had left a bitter taste in your mouth when he rushed them out for the first time. But now all your stomach could do is hurt from all the butterflies, the look in your eyes finally reciprocating those of the boy in front of you.

You sit there for a moment, basking in each other’s presence and slowly coming to terms with the fact that you were on the same page about this after all. You were scared that Sunghoon will never want to speak to you again, and right now you couldn’t be happier that he decided to approach you one more time, giving you the chance to rebuild your relationship on a different level.

After a while of staring at each other and taking in each other’s confession, you couldn’t help but burst out into laughter together. This whole ordeal was so stupidly romantic despite the bumpy start and you had a hard time trying to contain your amusement.

“We should have done this the first time already.” You admitted, shaking your head at the painful memory of Sunghoon scaring you away with his revelation. Sunghoon couldn’t help but raise his brows at you in disbelief.

“Yeah? Well, whose fault was that?” he challenged and guilt glossed over your face, your lips forming a pout. The boyish grin he was wearing only grew wider.

“Stop blaming me, I know I fucked up.” You acknowledged, dropping your head in shame. Sunghoon was quick to shoot a hand under your chin, making you look up at him again.

“We both did. It’s fine.” He reassured with a smile, and you could only do so much as copy it. Silence took over once again, his hand slowly dropping from under your chin, landing on your own. You noticed that Sunghoon was pondering over something, and the mischievous smirk that was forming didn’t help.

You threw your head back in agony. He was getting playful again and you hated loved it.

“Oh boy, what is it now?” you were careful to ask, not sure if you really wanted to know what was on his mind right now. Sunghoon cleared his throat.

“You know, I just think it’s funny that you told me to get laid and then turned out to be the person to do it shortly after.”

Yep, you didn’t want to know what was on his mind. He chuckled and your face ran pale upon hearing him. You groaned in frustration, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment. Your shy reaction made Sunghoon laugh even harder, throwing his head back in his usual manner and he couldn’t help but tease you a bit since he hadn’t done it in a while. Seeing your agitated look was enough to satisfy him.

You were so immersed that you didn’t notice the wind picking up speed and the clouds thickening. Only when an especially strong breeze almost swept you from the pier did you realize that a storm was coming.

“I think we should go.” Sunghoon nodded in agreement and the moment you got up, you felt the first drop of rain hit your face.

It wasn’t the last one for sure and before you knew it, it was pouring. You quickly came to the conclusion that running to the cabins would be too far, so you opted for the little lifeguard hut near the beach instead. The cold rain hitting you made your legs carry you to the hut even faster, unconsciously intertwining Sunghoon’s hand with yours.

You yelped a little when he pushed you forward, motioning you to hurry up since the rain was hitting you at high speed now. Whatever you expected from tonight, it was not going to bed soaking wet. But it also wasn’t Sunghoon and you to reconcile. You win some, you lose some.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally reached the small veranda in front of the hut. Thankful that the porch had a canopy, you breathed heavily and relaxed against the walls of the house. You glanced at Sunghoon and noticed that he was completely drenched from head to toe. Much to your dismay, you realized that you were just as soaked. But the moment you caught each other’s eyes, you couldn’t help but giggle again.

The hopeless romantic in you couldn’t be happier right now. You watched as the rain only poured harder, so you had no choice but to stay under the canopy for a while.

You noticed Sunghoon was struggling with his hair, one strand always falling into his eyes no matter how many times he tried to push it back. You couldn’t help yourself, your hand shooting up towards his face to fix it.

“Here, let me.” You said, fully turning to him while he did the same. Instead of fixing it, you ruffled his hair even more, causing several strands to drop in front of his eyes. Despite the hair covering his eyes, you could feel the unimpressed look he probably gave you. You snickered and proceeded to actually fix his hair this time.

Once you finished tugging his hair back, you noticed how much he was staring at you. You slowly retracted your hand from his hair, trying to decipher his look. Nothing but love, you concluded, and it was confirmed once he opened his mouth to speak.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

Your heart hammered in your chest at his words. The longing in his eyes almost made you faint and without a second thought, you pushed yourself forward to connect your lips. It took you only a second to melt into him, lips moving like they had always belonged together. Sunghoon’s hands were quick to find your waist again while yours wandered around his neck.

“Closer.” He whispered against your lips, pulling you towards him by your waist, close not being close enough as his lips worked wonders against your own. You were trying to lean back to catch your breath, but Sunghoon didn’t let you, chasing after your lips relentlessly as if he had to make up for something. Your back was arched and Sunghoon towered over you, making you feel even smaller.

You couldn’t help but let your hand wander into his hair, scratching his scalp slightly, which elicited a small gasp from him. Taking the opportunity, you let your tongue slowly dance against his own and he was quick to follow along.

Sunghoon only broke apart from you when he felt like suffocating, pressing his forehead against yours to catch his breath. You opened your eyes slowly, instantly being met with his own. You had never felt so cherished before, so adored. The moment you caught him staring at you with the most loving gaze, you couldn’t help but break out into a smile which he quickly mirrored.

Time seemed to stand still, the rain only a faint background noise as you basked in each other’s presence once again. The kiss and your gazes held so much emotion, so much you two wanted to share with each other earlier but couldn’t. But no matter how chaotic things got at the beginning of the summer, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else at that moment.

“Do you really think we need to take pictures?” A hushed whisper could be heard from one of the cabins.

“Of course! The others wouldn’t believe us if we just told them.” Another voice responded, almost drowned out completely by the rain.

“We’re going to tease them about this to no end, are we?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Masterlist

#enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #sunghoon #sunghoon scenarios #park sunghoon #sunghoon angst #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #enhypen sunghoon

[iliketangerines]

OP HEAR ME OUT:

A oneshot/scenario/headcanon with any MK1 boy of your choice (I would personally love it if you did Shang Tsung and General Shao)...with a giant fem or GN reader. Like think of 6ft 4in and higher compared to their tiny BF! Think of that meme of the small male rabbit loving his giant rabbit girlfriend.

Please and thank you! I love your writing😘👌🏻!

my giant lover

a/n: don't mind me throwing in a bit of my own worldbuilding rq

pairing: general shao x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Shao was a large man, well over 7 feet, an anomaly within those of draconic lineage

typically, men of draconic descent are much smaller, shorter, leaner compared to him

he had been offered the privilege of having his height due to his genes through his father and through working as protege and then general for Empress Sindel

Raiden watches Shao in the corner, unable to keep his eyes off the intimidating man who glowers and glares throughout the entire banquet

it makes the champion nervous that Shao could possibly snap his spine if he wanted to with little effort, and he is reminded of that superhero comic that Kung Lao once showed him

Raiden tries to focus on his food, picking at it with his chopsticks, as Liu Kang lightly converses with the others and Kung Lao asks for more food from Kenshi

he hears something stomp through the hallways, and Raiden tenses up, hand raised as electricity jolts between his fingertips as he watches a hulking figure appear in the doorway

you’re easily the tallest person that Raiden had ever met, broad back, straight back, glowering eyes

you have a large set of horns on your head, curving to the side and up, and you stride through the room with an air of confidence

you walk with a purpose, as though hunting for someone, and Raiden sweats in his uniform as he tracks your figure

the other Earthrealm champions have fallen silent as they all watch you walk through the room, snarl on your face and pupils slitted as you stalk through the room

only Liu Kang seems unbothered, sipping on his tea as he continues to talk with the others, and Raiden feels a shiver go down his spine when you pass by him

you could easily snap him in half, break every bone in his body with no trouble, and Raiden gets an eyeful of your sharpened claws and your scaled body

but suddenly, Raiden sees in the corner of the room General Shao stand up, chair screeching against the stone floor

for a second, you stare at the general, growl in your throat and eyes narrowed as you stare at the general, and Raiden thinks a fight might break out

but then General Shao, softens, his eyes almost warming, and you stride on over the general with that low rumble in your throat

you bring your foreheads together, holding onto the small of his waist and also completely engulfing General Shao with your large form

you’re so much…bigger than him, much stronger-looking and intimidating than the general somehow

General Shao gestures you to sit next to Reiko so that the warrior sits between you two, ears flicking as he listens to you laugh and tell him your tales of the day

he listens enraptured, eyes never once breaking from yours unless it’s to grab more food from the center of the table to give to you

even Reiko looks enraptured by you, leaning in and nodding, and you smile and pat his head, in an almost parental fashion

General Shao has his fingers intertwined with yours on the table, leaning in toward you as if you’re a god amongst mortals, and smoke bellows from your nose as you let out a belly laugh

it’s a scene of complete domesticity and none of the others at the banquet seem to care or notice as they continue on with their conversations

Raiden glances at Liu Kang, who does nothing, and then at the other champions, who look dumbfounded at the situation

none of them knew that the angry General Shao could soften for someone, but it turns out that you’re the one who could placate the scowling general

#tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fluff #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #general shao #general shao mk1 #mk1 general shao #general shao x reader #general shao x you #general shao x y/n

[ddoxhan]

prettiest to me

I'll write the melody, you write the words for me it might not be the prettiest, but it's the prettiest to me

word count : 2k words

genre : fluff & fluff; when minji wrote a melody and asks if you could write lyrics for it; minji's a simp for you; singer-songwriter! minji x uni student! fem! reader

t/w : slightly suggestive(?) ig (idk how to do this we ride or die)

a/n : to commemorate the ending of pr stunt by @silantryoo, here's a minji oneshot to thank bestie silan on making me squeal at 3am with this smau, it was a wonderful journey and I still can't believe it ended :') this marks my first nwjns fics :3 plot has nothing to do with pr stunt and I wrote this in one sitting so there might be errors or just weird flow since I didn't proofread enjoy !!

"babe! come down for a minute!"

"what is it? I'm a little busy with my assignments."

"that can wait, I'm more important here."

"well, you aren't wrong."

just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you don't seem to see your girlfriend anywhere in sight. that's when you figured she was in her mini recording studio. she would always be there if it wasn't the garden, which is her favorite spot for handling her work.

"so, how may I help you, my dearest minji?"

you weren't sure why she needed you in here, when you made it a fact that you weren't exactly musically gifted with that time you tried to serenade her but failed miserably (you practiced real hard and she appreciated your efforts).

"can you cook up some lyrics for this melody I wrote?"

"me? are you sure that's okay? I mean hanni would be able to create a masterpiece with your melodies, better than I could ever."

"sure she can, but this is for us. I write the melody, and you write the words."

"umm, okay? don't expect too much out of it though."

it would be a lie that minji didn't have a slightest expectation because she knew you had a way with your words. that was one of the reasons why she fell for you, amongst hundreds of them. utmost of all, you treat her real good, like she's your world and your one and only, which isn't wrong at all. you do love her more than yourself, and you don't mind throwing yourself in front of a truck for her (which had her smacking you on the back when you told her that).

as much as you don't enter her studio, there was only one chair and of course, it was already taken by the owner. minji saw how your eyes were searching for an extra one, so she just put her hands over your waist before pulling you over onto her lap.

the slight red tint on your ears doesn't go unnoticed by her, making her heart swell at the fact that you still burn bright red whenever she gets intimate. despite being together for years, you still do, and that reassures her that you feel the same for her, just as she does for you.

"I c-could have just gotten another chair from the kitchen."

"yeah, but I like it this way."

minji snakes her arms around your waist, giving you her signature cheeky smile, which you have a love-hate relationship with. it's just so annoying, but endearing because you love her. all you could do is role your eyes at it and pretend you don't like it.

she leans forward to get her earphones before handing you one side, putting the other into her own ear. with a click on the space bar, the melody she had just finished perfecting flowed out in the earphones.

with every stroke of the electric guitar, you found yourself lost in her eyes, and same goes to her. it made you feel so nostalgic as you reminisce the moments you shared with minji. the first time you met her, all the dates you went to, all the hours you spent staring at her eyes more than the scenery, all the times you said 'I love you' (that were three times in total of the 3 years you've been together for).

you just knew, this wasn't just some typical love song. it was your love song. yours only to listen to, which made you so sure, that you were going to spend the rest of your life with this girl in front of you, kim minji.

it made you feel loved by her, and also made you realize how madly in love you were with her. so this was why she insisted on you writing the lyrics. you didn't know how only just a melody could make you feel this way. god are you smitten by kim minji.

"min, you're a genius."

"are you sure? I'm pretty sure you literally just called me an idiot two days ago."

"I take it back, you're a bitter meanie."

"hey! you can't blame me for having good memory."

your glare seemed so 'intimidating', minji couldn't help but crack a smile at your attempt at being scary. and you followed suit, weak at how her lips would curl up and her eyes folding into crescents.

"you're adorable."

"don't think you're off the hook just because you call me cute."

"didn't think of that but yes, you are cute and I love you too."

she leans forward to steal a kiss on your lips, smiling sweetly at you as she stares into your eyes again. knowing the effect she had on you, minji purposely did so because it was fun to see you flustered, which makes you a thousand times cuter than you already are (minji's words not mine).

and she was absolutely accurate with how the red tint on your ears prolong and your gaze fall to the ground.

"so how was the melody? what makes you say I'm a genius just hearing that?"

you glance over at minji, full of curiosity and anticipation, as if she doesn't know how that melody just made you fall for her further.

"because that screamed 'I love you and no one else'? you just made me remember the feeling of being in love with you, baby."

to be honest, minji's heard countless 'I love you's' and 'baby's' in her entire career. but when it comes from you, it makes her heart flutter and all giggly like a lovesick schoolgirl. she too, remembers when you spell it out for her.

the feeling of being in love, and specifically with you. she could never forget how she fell for you. it wasn't love at first sight, but she did realize she was in love with you at a particular moment. that moment you smiled at her as you pulled her along by her wrist to the arcade. she didn't know what it was, but that endearing smile that tugged perfectly on your lips led her to offer you her heart.

and it was the same smile minji loved seeing every day, the smile you only showed when it came to her. you could very well call it 'minji-exclusive smile' and your friends would 100% agree because there was just a different glint in your eyes and a higher tug against your lips when it was for her. dani mentioned that and was so supportive of you two while hanni gives you her signature side eye. (she secretly likes you two together because you treat her bestie well and vice versa)

"now that you say it, I guess it does sound like that. well then I believe you have your inspiration right there."

"of being in love you?"

"yes, that, and us. this is our song, so it's about us, our love."

"I suppose I can start from there."

you still can't get used to minji using the word 'love' so easily, rolling off her tongue like it meant nothing. but you knew she means it every single time she stares into your eyes, saying it with utmost warmth. she makes you feel at home, as you are wrapped up in her arms. although you two are cotton candy clouds most of the time, there will always be times where you two bicker and argue over something unimportant just like other couples out there. even so, voices are never raised and what more physical.

it was an agreement made at the start of your relationship and it was never once broken, which made you love minji more than you thought you could ever. your previous relationship begged to differ, so you were honestly afraid to start another one. yet this girl in front of you showed you that you were worth every drop of love she could offer, every kiss you shared, every night you spent cuddling with her. the list could go on and on, and she would still have so much to give to you because you deserve it.

"then there's that. now you can attend to your assignments, but make sure to be down here later for dinner."

minji squinted her eyes at you, making you look away as you remember how you used to starve yourself just to finish your thesis. all that was past you when you moved in to live with her. of course it was when she'd make you meals so you never skip, and being the stubborn person she is, she makes sure you finish it. (minji treats you like a kid but she does so because you do act like one at times, and she's not complaining since she loves taking care of you)

"okay, mom."

you lift yourself off from her lap to get back to whatever you were working on, but as you did, she pulled you back down. what she does next catches you so off guard, you push her away, running out of the studio before she can see how you're about to explode from embarrassment.

"I don't think you suck your mom's lips off, do you?"

to top it off, she puts her lips near your ears and whispered, extremely seductively. her breath tickled and lingered against your skin in the best way possible. you couldn't deny though, you quite literally sucked her lips off the other time you spent the last friday movie night, making out with the movie just playing on in the background. if someone were to ask you about that movie, you were sure you aren't going to be able to tell them what it was about. you apologized to her after the session when you saw how red and swollen her lips when you two finally got out of it. (your lips weren't any better either)

"I hate you."

"thanks babe, I love you too."

you were pouting as you made your way back upstairs, but was stopped by your beloved girlfriend before you could take a seat to continue your assignment. minji threw her arms over your shoulder, hugging you from the back as you refuse to look at her. she loves teasing you because you just give her the best reactions, and it's become a routine.

"if you keep teasing me, I'm not writing the lyrics."

"what's that gotta do with the lyrics? you promised, and remember, no breaking promises."

"that's up to me."

folding your arms across your chest, you turn your head to the left because minji leaned forward to look at you from the right.

"babe."

"what?"

just as you turn your head back to the right, kim minji once again steals another peck on your lips. if she thinks she can get you to stop being 'angry' at her with this, she is absolutely right. (she just knows you too well, and also because she knows you love her very much)

when she notices the way your lips become less pouty, minji tightens the hug as she buries her head in the crook of your neck. she takes a seat on the chair with her still hugging onto you like a bear, mumbling against your skin, sending shivers down your spine (in a good way).

"don't be angry with me."

"I'm not..."

when clingy minji shows up, you just know you can never win against her.

"you will write the lyrics right?"

"of course, I made a promise. and I'll make it the prettiest in the world so you won't be disappointed."

"if it's written by you, I'll love it no matter what. you can write me a nursery rhyme, and I'd give you a nobel prize."

her jokes never fail to crack you up, as if her sense of humor was built to match yours. she never fails to amaze you every single day you wake up to seeing her by your side, soundly asleep. minji used to suffer a lot from insomnia but from the day you slept by her side, there wasn't a single night she spent awake.

"whatever you write, I just know it's gonna be the best. even if you think it may not be the prettiest, it's the prettiest to me."

"you're the prettiest to me."

#minji #kim minji #newjeans #newjeans fluff #newjeans imagines #newjeans scenarios #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #minji x reader #Spotify

[thefrogdalorian]

The Bake Sale

Husband!Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: When Grogu brings news of an upcoming Bake Sale hosted by the little school he attends between missions with the New Republic on Nevarro, his father enthusiastically throws himself into baking the the sweetest treats to impress his classmates. Din's devotion to the task makes you feel like there is a third person in your marriage as he constantly asks for your opinions on recipe combinations. Still, you are nevertheless charmed by his determination. Ultimately, while the fruits of his labour are delicious, you soon discover that Din Djarin's love is the sweetest treat of them all…

Word Count:  3.8k ✯ Rating:  General ✯ Content Warnings: One suggestive line, but apart from that, fluff (and cakes) so sweet they might rot your teeth! ✯ Author's Note: Took me like a month, but I finally got around to finishing this fluffy little baking oneshot inspired by a conversation I had with the lovely @suresnips about Din being a chaotic but enthusiastic baker! This one is also dedicated to you, Senna. Thank you for all of your help on TBOBW, much appreciated! Anyway it was a DELIGHT to imagine Din doing something so sweet and soft, now that he finally has his own home. I would love to explore more of this in the future! I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Din Djarin is a man who throws himself into any task with every atom of his being. Your riduur’s determination is never more apparent than when said task is for the benefit of someone he loves.

You have been privileged enough to observe Din’s love language firsthand and experienced how his love is all-encompassing, absolute and unconditional without suffocating. You know that if Din truly cares about someone, he will stop at nothing, no matter how tall the task, to improve their lives and ensure their happiness, even if the task demands everything of him for only a fractional improvement in their lives in return. 

That fact is particularly evident when it comes to his son.

Since their first meeting on Arvala-7, Din has been wrapped around each of Grogu’s tiny green talons. The hulking Mandalorian would do anything to ensure his boy’s contentment. 

Lately, that pursuit of Grogu’s happiness involves an activity utterly alien to Din—baking. 

Training his son in the ways of being a Mandalorian is important to Din. A task he has thrown himself into with the absolute devotion it requires. 

However, it is also important to Din that Grogu mixes with other children and learns how others view the galaxy. Din has told you on numerous occasions that he wants Grogu to be the best Mandalorian possible. 

Yet, even more than being a great warrior, it is more important to Din that he brings his son up to have a well-rounded perspective. 

After all, Din would never want Grogu to swear the Creed when he is old enough because it was the only path his father ever showed him. Din is determined to ensure that Grogu wants to be Mandalorian. 

Din is also in the unique position of raising a child who is actually older than him. As such, Din is not blind to the fact that Grogu’s lifespan will be far longer than his. There will come a time when Grogu has to fend for himself. Din wants to ensure that his boy is well prepared for that eventuality. He wants to ensure Grogu is well prepared for the multitude of fates and destinies which possibly await him throughout the galaxy.

That is precisely why Din insists on sending Grogu to the local school on Nevarro whenever there is a gap between their missions with the New Republic. It allows Grogu to be around other children, while also granting you and Din the opportunity to spend some precious time alone together. 

For the few hours that Grogu spends at school each day, you and Din enjoy time together without a mischievous toddler running around and causing mischief. 

However, as soon as Grogu returns from school, Din’s attention is fully turned towards his boy. You love watching Din as he dutifully helps Grogu with whatever projects or homework he brings home from the small school which Grogu attends whenever there is a gap in the steady stream of jobs that flow in from the New Republic. 

You are eager to see how Din is progressing with the task you left him in the middle of when you departed the small cabin you share near the lava flats to pick Grogu up from the repurposed Cantina in the centre of town. 

Din had been busy weighing out the ingredients to make Uj’alayi or Uj cakes, a Mandalorian delicacy that Grogu will take for his school’s Bake Sale. You are eager to see his progress when you arrive home. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greets you in the cabin’s small kitchen when you return home, however.

You and Grogu can barely stifle your giggles as you notice how the shine of Din’s gleaming beskar armour has been dulled drastically by the flour that, somehow, Din has managed to cake himself in from head to toe. 

“Oh, hi there, you two!” Din exclaims, slightly flustered at your presence, “Wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon!”

“Patu!” Grogu chirps from your arms and nods towards the chronometer on the wall above the stove. 

You smirk at the child’s sassiness, a trait he has learned well from his father. 

“Sorry, pal, I must have lost track of time,” Din apologetically shrugs. 

It is not the first time that Din has unintentionally let time get away from him. Baking the perfect Uj cake for Grogu’s upcoming Bake Sale has consumed Din’s every waking thought for the past few days. You and the little boy who brought home the assignment have served as Din’s tasters, checking each combination of ingredients until he settles on one that he is happy with. 

A few hours later, after dinner, it is a role you find yourself fulfilling once again. 

Usually, you and Din would spend quality time with Grogu, either inside or outside the cabin; mainly in an attempt to wear him out so he settles in his bunk without much fuss.

Tonight, however, as evening descends across Nevarro, you are alone with the tiniest member of Clan Mudhorn. Din has once again excused himself to the kitchen, mumbling something about how he needs to get the combination of nuts and dried fruits just right so that the sticky batter is not overwhelmed and weighed down by the fillings.

You would never have considered Din to be a baker when you first met him. You would certainly never have imagined he would throw himself into the pastime with as much enthusiasm as he has. 

Grogu’s task has seemingly reawakened the passion for baking that had lay dormant for some time. He told you it reminded him of his childhood, and you had learned that food played an integral role in Mandalorian culture. 

Despite his imposing demeanour, you have been privileged to see Din’s softer side evident beneath his armour. As you grew closer to him, you learned that he not only enjoyed baking and cooking but also tended to the assortment of plants he was cultivating in the fertile volcanic Nevarrian soil on his tract of land. 

Your husband is a man of multitudes, and Din continues to surprise you each day. 

As he does, once again, when he stands in the cabin's doorway and softly calls your name. His familiar deep voice travels through the warm Nevarrian evening towards the spot by the pond where you have crouched next to Grogu, who is enjoying his favourite pastime, levitating frogs. 

“I’ll be right back, pal. I think your father wants me to be a test subject for his latest creation,” you say as you playfully roll your eyes at Grogu, who responds with a giggle. 

You cannot help but smile as you return to the cabin, amused by Din’s determination to create the perfect Uj cake. Despite how endearing it is, you cannot help but be somewhat relieved the Bake Sale is tomorrow. If only because you fear the toll it is taking on your husband’s sanity. And his bank balance. 

Even though he is one of the New Republic’s most valuable employees with the wage to match, you fear you may have to take on debt to keep up with Din’s supply of ingredients. 

You hold your breath as you enter the cabin, mentally preparing yourself for the sight you that will greet you after Din’s latest attempt at baking. 

Fortunately, the kitchen is mostly clean. 

The same cannot be said of the man who occupies it. 

Din’s mouth is smeared with batter from his creations. His dark hair, which curls slightly at the ends, is stood up in every direction as though he has been furiously running his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. Your gaze travels down his body. You notice that he has changed into comfortable cotton clothes. It is an outfit you know is supposed to be cream-coloured, but in reality, Din's garments are stained with various shades of brown from the Uj cake batter.

You cannot stop and gawp at him any longer as Din motions for you to come closer to him. A giggle escapes from somewhere in your chest. You are so endeared by his determination to perfect the recipe. 

“Try this, cyar’ika,” Din rasps as he holds the wooden spoon covered in a dark, lumpy batter towards your lips. 

Din watches as you lick the batter from the spoon he is holding. You savour the sweet flavours as they dance across your tongue, forming your opinions with a thoughtful expression. When you look at Din again, you see his eyes momentarily darkened with an emotion you might even consider lust. It marks the first time he has allowed himself to think of anything except crafting the perfect Uj’alayi for the past few days. 

Before the moment can continue, Grogu chirps from behind the two of you. In response, you and Din hurriedly jump apart as though you have been caught in a compromising position rather than the entirely innocent gesture of tasting the batter. 

The child whines unimpressed at the sight of his buirs dedicating more attention to the Uj cakes than towards him. To keep him happy, you scoop Grogu up into your arms and take him to the fresher for a bath before you put him down to sleep. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

With Grogu finally tucked up between a mountain of plushies, you wander through the narrow hallway of the cabin in the direction of the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, Din is still hunched over the countertop, working on the Uj’alayi. 

“Din, it’s getting late,” you sigh, gesturing towards the chronometer, much like Grogu had hours before. 

“Just one more batch!” Din pleads, turning towards you with a frenzied look across his features. 

You shake your head and let out an exasperated sigh, simultaneously amused and concerned by his antics. Din throws himself into everything with nothing less than one hundred per cent devotion, so you know better than to fight him on this matter.

Slipping beneath the blankets on your own is a lonely, miserable experience. You are used to it when Din is away, of course. But it is a strange sensation to know he is here in the cabin, and yet he is unable to be here with you. 

Too devoted to baking to cuddle you.

You sigh forlornly at the emptiness next to you, a stark reminder of Din’s absence. Hoping that sleep, instead, will cocoon you in its warm embrace…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The other half of the bunk is still empty and ice cold to the touch when your eyelids flutter open sometime later. When you reach out to feel for him, the frigidity of the bunk beneath your fingertips makes it obvious that Din has not joined you. His absence is confirmed when your eyes finally focus and recognise the light streaming in from the hallway outside.

Din is still up in the kitchen. You groan, far too comfortable and warm to truly want to leave. Still, the buckethead’s well-being is somehow more important than your own.

You pad down the hallway towards the kitchen, groggily rubbing your eyes as you go. As expected, Din is still furiously mixing the batter.

“Din, have you seen the time?” you ask exasperatedly. Despite the late hour, Din is determined to perfect the recipe ahead of the Bake Sale. 

“I have to get it perfect,” he mutters, shaking his head in exasperation as he looms over the mixing bowl. 

“Darling, you look exhausted,” you whisper against Din���s neck as you wrap your hands around his waist, looking concernedly at the dark bags underneath his eyes as you pepper kisses along his neck. 

It might be a shameless attempt to seduce him. At least it would get him into your bunk. Still, Din is too hyper-focused on baking to acknowledge your advances.

“I’m fine,” he huffs, continuing to mix the batter, “Go back to sleep.”

You shake your head and retreat, knowing when you are not wanted. You know that Din will make it up to you and apologise once the Bake Sale is over. Although if he offers to bake you something to make up for his behaviour over the past few days, you may resort to using one of his weapons against him… 

You drift off for the second time, fantasising about which blaster from his armoury you would turn your hand to first…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

When the alarm sounds next to your bed the next morning you thrust a clumsy hand towards the buttons to turn it off. You immediately notice that you are, once again, alone.

Din is nowhere to be seen.

It is a miracle that he hasn’t burned the cabin down.

Before waking Grogu up, you decide to see what kind of condition his silly buir is in. The rage that burns in your belly is extinguished the second you make it to the kitchen and lay eyes upon the adorable sight before you.

The golden light streaming in through the windows illuminates the entire room, where Din is slumped over the kitchen table, surrounded by plates piled high with Uj cakes. You shake your head and smile at him, not wanting to wake him just yet.

You busy yourself by getting Grogu up and ready for school, which is easier said than done, considering how lazy the child can be at times. 

When you return to the kitchen, you place a soft kiss on Din’s forehead. He stirs slightly, warm brown eyes flecked with honey in the sunlight and as thick with sleep as Uj’alayi batter. 

“Come on, sleepyhead,” you grin when Din finally focuses on you, “We need to leave for the Bake Sale in a few minutes.”

While Din dashes to the fresher and hurriedly pulls his beskar’gam on, you carefully pack up the Uj cakes. Grogu watches you, doing his best impression of a Porg as he looks up at you with pleading eyes, desperate for a taste of the sweet snack.

“You can have one later, Grogu,” you tell him, tone firm. 

You ignore Grogu’s whines as Din reappears, fully armoured and ready for the Bake Sale. Enthusiastic, despite how little he has slept.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The enthusiasm gives way to darker emotions when you and Din finally make it to the town centre of Nevarro.

As you begin setting up your stall, it appears that the other parents at Grogu’s school have not taken the assignment as seriously as your household. Most of them, it transpires, have used self-rising mixtures to hastily contribute to the Bake Sale. A fact that disappoints you as you watch them setting up their respective stalls, ready for the children to take over shortly.

Only Din had taken the task seriously, a fact that fills you with pride rather than embarrassment. How lucky are you to have someone as dedicated and driven as your riduur?

Despite how much more impressive your wares are than other stalls, the flow of customers is slow at first. Not helped by the fact that every unfortunate soul who comes to examine the Uj’alayi gets a lecture on their origins from an overly enthusiastic, sleep-deprived Mandalorian. 

When Grogu and his classmates appear to take over from their parents, you and Din make yourselves scarce. It is their Bake Sale, after all. 

You are intent on enjoying the rest of the fair; by exploring the stalls, sampling the food and playing traditional games which have been set up by the children.

You begin wandering through the fair, appreciating the effort that has gone into each stall. The children deserve a better school building and you have no doubt the fair will raise enough money to move them out of the former cantina.

But, when you do not feel the presence of your riduur at your side, you halt in your tracks and look around for him as panic sets in. 

Being the only Mandalorian on Nevarro, Din is not difficult to spot. You discover him pacing up and down, arms behind his back and helmet tilted in the direction of the stall. Although you cannot see his face, you are fairly certain that anxiety lingers behind the blackness of his T-visor. 

“Din, why don’t we go and enjoy some of the other stalls?” you plead, hoping that Din will relax and enjoy what should have been a fun event. 

Din shakes his head, “Can’t,” he murmurs. 

“Standing and watching them is not going to make them sell any quicker,” you huff, growing increasingly exasperated by his antics.

“You go on, I’ll catch up to you,” Din murmurs as he waves you away absentmindedly.

“Please, Din,” you beg, reaching out to take his gloved hand in yours, forcing him to look at you, “You’ve been so preoccupied with those kriffing Uj’alayi, it’s like you’ve been having an affair! Now that they’re finally out of your hands, can’t we please spend some time together?” you plead, hating how desperate you sound.

Din stands there motionless for a few seconds. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice him clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, a mannerism of his that you have come to understand is a sign of anxiety. Your heart drops as you realise you have upset him.

“Of course, cyare,” Din finally breathes, clearly conciliatory and not annoyed as you had feared, “I'm sorry for neglecting you. Let's go."

Din follows you without hesitation.

You are ecstatic at finally having a chance to enjoy the delights of the fair. So much effort has been put into organising such an event by the people of Nevarro, and you are happy to support them.

The Mandalorian by your side seems less awed by the assortment of stalls, however. The various traditional games and food are tricky for Din to enjoy from behind his helmet.

There is one stall you suspect he may succeed at, however. 

Your eyes lock onto a high striker, a familiar game synonymous with fairs. You stand back, watching a man cockily sidle up towards the stall. After exchanging credits, he picks up a heavy mallet and nods towards the woman who accompanies him. You think you sense him straining under the weight slightly. Especially when he draws it back to strike the base of a tower with a heavy mallet.

The puck rises pathetically, not even managing a third of the tower's height. Yet, if struck with enough force, the puck would strike a bell and the competitor wins a prize.

You do not doubt that Din could win. 

“Din, why don’t you have a go?” you nod in the direction of the high striker.

Din looks towards the stall, as the man who just attempted it murmurs something about how they are rigged. You aren’t so sure, convinced that your hulking Mandalorian could win you a prize.

“Sure,” Din shrugs, clearly not fazed by such a challenge.

Unlike the cockiness of the previous contender, Din approaches the stall with his usual calm, understated confidence. You enjoy watching him swagger towards the man, getting a kick out of the fact he is all yours. 

After exchanging credits, Din picks up the mallet without a hint of strain, nodding towards you as he raises it above his head. Sure enough, when he brings it back down in one smooth movement and strikes the base of the tower, the puck seamlessly rises to the top and strikes the bell. Announcing Din’s victory to the entire fair with a ding, to which he receives a smattering of applause.

“Congratulations!” the stall owner chirps, “Which prize would you like?”

The man gestures towards a collection of brightly coloured plushies in various shapes and sizes. Your eyes roam across them, stunned by the collection. 

“I want that one,” Din nods without hesitation, pointing towards a bright green frog plushie. 

You smile, knowing precisely who that is for. Grogu can barely sleep in his cot as it is, but you have no doubt he will find room. Especially for a frog. 

Yet, Din is unable to bask in the glory of his victory for much longer. A familiar booming voice behind you soon causes both of you to turn around.

“Mando!” High Magistrate Greef Karga exclaims, “I hear your Uj’alayi went down a treat. Perhaps if your job with the New Republic does not work out, a future as a baker lies ahead of you,” the kindly old man chuckles as he brings a hand to clasp Din’s vambrace in greeting.

“Seriously?!” Din questions, clearly taken aback by the apparent success of his Uj’alayi. 

“All sold out! Before I even got a chance, can you believe that?” Greef smirks, “Perhaps you’ll have to bake me some?”

You cannot help the way your entire body tenses up at the thought of your kitchen once again being overtaken by Din baking. Still, as Greef disappears into the crowd, those thoughts are far from your mind as Din laces his fingers with yours. 

Now he has confirmation that the Uj’alayi were a hit, perhaps your husband will finally return to you.

As you stroll through the remainder of the stalls together, the sweet treats that Din had been so preoccupied with are far from your mind. The sweetest thing is being in his presence, proudly strolling around the Bake Sale and being unable to stop the feeling of pride that spreads through your chest at the knowledge this man is yours.

No matter how many passersby stare at him admiringly, Din Djarin’s heart belongs only to you. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Later that evening, the two of you are standing in your kitchen back at your cabin long after the sun has set. Din is clearly in a pensive mood as you work together, drying the last of the plates which you used for the Bake Sale. 

“Cyare, I’m sorry for being so focused on making the Uj Cakes that you felt neglected,“ Din offers apologetically.

“It’s okay, Din,” you smile, “Thank you for apologising.”

“I was thinking,” Din pauses, raising a single eyebrow cheekily at you, “That I could bake you a cake to make up for it.”

“Din Djarin, you better sleep with one eye open tonight or so help me Maker, I will help myself to your arsenal!”

“I’d like to see you try,” Din smirks smugly, as he snakes his arms around your waist and brings his lips to yours. 

The sound of your laughter carries throughout the cabin, all the way to Grogu in his room. Cuddled up to his new froggy friend, with his little belly full of Uj cakes, he is blissfully unaware of the strain his school’s Bake Sale placed upon his parents’ marriage.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #pedro pascal characters #my fics #more din fluff im on a roll this week

[i-am-a-l0st-gh0st]

Secrets I have held in my heart- Lyney x Gn!reader- Part 2

Are harder to hide than I thought t/w- Angst comfort, dancing in the rain, fluffy lyney and girl boss Lynette Summary- Hear me out... The reader is lyneys friend in Fontaine who secretly has a massive crush on lyney, thinking those feelings are one-sided hence not telling him. They went to lyneys show, but then lyney took an audience member - a beautiful woman - for a trick which involved a little dance motion. That made the readers heart crush, as they sat in the dark audience seat with tears falling down from their eyes - their mind telling them they'll never ever be in place of that woman.Gn reader please!!! A/n- I maybe wanted to start doing Honkai Star rail Oneshots too! Would you guys enjoy that??

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Part 1!

Lynette pov

Y/n walked out the performance mid way through. It was unlike them to do that, usually they sat and watched all of his tricks no matter how cheesy. I turned to face lyney, he was basically flirting with the girl on stage. About a week ago he had comfessed to me his love for y/n and y/n had done the same. Both thought it was one sided. Freminent and I are the only ones who knows. It kills us both to watch them be so oblivious.

The show continues as normal and Lyney and I finish with a bow as he throws flowers into the crowd. He has everyone fauning over him, girls, boys and everyone in between. I just don't think he realises how much he likes y/n and how much they like him back.

"Well I'd say that show was pretty successful wouldn't you Lynette?"

"Well yes, apart from the fact y/n walked out mid performance."

"They walked out? I-i didn't notice?"

"You were to busy flirting with that lady on stage."

"How could I be so stupid."

"I don't know. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to make tea."

Y/n pov

You wrapped your jacket tighter around you, the rain and wind were equally unforgiving. Maybe you should just get up and go? What were you doing waiting here? Were you hoping that Lyney would come out and find you? That he would come and hug you? That he would tell you how much he loved you?

It was useless. Of course he didn't love you back. You felt angry at him. He had flirted with you so much to the point that you'd actually fallen for him, and when he found out he was going to throw you away.

The suddenly stopped, well above you atleast. "Would you happen to be needing one of these. You might freeze to death if you keep sitting here in the rain."

"Go away Lyney."

He seemed taken aback at your words, and his usual flirty tone stopped. "Y/n what's wrong? You can talk to me you know."

"Not about this Lyney."

"You know I'm going to get it out for you eventually."

Maybe it was just the rain dripping down your face but something tickled your cheek. He gently reached out his hand almost like picking up an Injured bird. He wiped away your tears and slightly smiled.

"Come on don't cry. What's there to cry about?" He grabbed both your hands. "Come dance with me."

"You know I can't dance Lyney."

"And? I can teach you."

Despite the cold nipping at you, you started to feel warm. He dragged you out from the cover of the umbrella. Lyney placed one hand on your waist and the other leading your hand to his shoulders. Your hands were interlocked and you could feel yourself getting warmer by the second.

"Now just follow my steps. Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

He moved so gracefully, just like on stage. Except he seemed more genuine. The smile on his face was so.... Handome. You felt your heart skip a beat. It wasn't fair that he could make you feel like this from just smiling.

You pulled away quickly not wanting to even look at him anymore. He looked like a sad, damp puppy.

"Please tell me. I hate seeing you like this."

"Well I hate seeing you flirt with every person you-" You stopped because you realised what you said.

"Your jealous?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"You are oblivious aren't you Lyney." Lynette was standing against a pole with he tea in hand.

"What are you taking about Lynette?"

She sighed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You both like each other."

You could see his face turn a bright red as he turned to face you. "You like me y/n?"

"I-i do."

"See there you both go." Lynette said.

He ran quickly towards you and embraced you in the tightest hug and his whispered in your ear. "And you never told me..."

"I thought you didn't like me."

"What gave you that impression?"

"You flirt with alot of people."

"Well...yeah I do but I only had eyes for you." He thought for a bit longer before saying, "May I kiss you."

"You may."

So he did.

Taglist

@pandragonsoul, @atsukawolfcat

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #gn reader #fluff #genshin fluff #angst #genshin angst #lyney #lyney genshin #lyney and lynette #genshin lyney #genshin impact lyney #freminet #lyney x reader #fontaine siblings #lynette #lyney x gnreader #lyney x you #lyney onesot #lyney angst #lyney fluff

[g-xix]

Hey love <3 Could you write something about Niko being jealous? Cause I swear my man always acts all tough but deep down he's a little insecure 'cause he's so tall and lanky?

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY | Niko Omilana

ofc babes, ask and you wil recieve ✨✨

One jealous Niko coming up!! First of all, pose for the camera:

Slayed. Okay, now go on n enjoy the extra-long, 3k oneshot!!

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

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

"TODAY, THE BETA SQUAD DOES ANOTHER PATHETIC ATTEMPT AT A COOKING VIDEO!" Chunkz had yelled the introduction before the groups were introduced: Big Aneson Gib, AJ and Sharky on one team, and Niko, Kenny and Olivia on the other team. 

Gib and Olivia were the featured guests for the video, and Niko was secretly thrilled to have Olivia on his team. Despite nobody catching on- Niko had been... seeing Olivia for quite some time. Stress on the "seeing", as he didn't know whether it was really romantic. He didn't really know if she even liked him. 

All they'd done was filmed a "public pranks in the library" video and gone to grab a coffee afterwards, catching up a week later in the same café to edit the video together before ending up going on a walk through Primrose Park... They could have all been friendly gestures, at the end of the day.

But their meetups gave Niko butterflies, regardless. 

"Okay, what cake are we making?" Olivia pulled the cook book from the desk and began flicking through the pages. Niko leaned over her shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of what options there were, though Kenny seemed to beat him to it.

"Oo we should do the carrot cake," Kenny pointed the cake out- topped with buttercream and sprinkled walnuts.

"Isn't that a bit ambitious?" Niko asked, scrunching his brows together in confusion. Kenny couldn't cook to save his life and Niko knew that between the two of them they weren't very likely to produce an edible cake.

"Ambitious but... seems do-able." Olivia nodded in approval. "I make carrot cake quite a bit for my neighbour so we have a bit of experience at least."

"You make food for your neighbour?!" Kenny repeated incredulously, before grinning and offering a wink as he said: "Damn, where do you live and can I move in with you?"

Niko furrowed his brows in confusion. Was Kenny trying to flirt with her?

Kenny might not have been flirting but it made Niko uncomfortable regardless. He hadn't actually introduced his friends to Olivia, and he felt like considering this was Kenny and Olivia's first meeting, they seemed to get on better than Niko had expected. Especially as Niko then watched as Olivia giggled at Kenny, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking down in flattery. 

Niko felt an odd sinking in his chest- all the way down until there was a miserable lump in Niko's stomach.

Kenny was flirting.

And Niko was jealous.

"Right then," Niko clapped a hand on either's shoulders, pushing his body between theirs to force them apart. "Let's start making, then. What ingredients do we need?"

Niko and Kenny were whisked away to the fridge in search of milk, butter, carrots and a few more items whilst Olivia sifted through the pantry.

"You good, bro?" Kenny checked up as they both searched for the butter.

"Fabulous, fantastic, perfect." Niko listed off the words, concealing the twinge of annoyance behind a smile before turning to check Kenny's expression. "Why'd you ask?"

"Dunno, seemed a bit tense." Kenny shrugged before pulling the butter from the fridge with a grin, patting Niko's shoulder as he shut the fridge and picked up all the ingredients they'd scavenged. "Hey, Olivia's nice isn't she?"

"Yeah... Lovely." Niko spoke slowly before gritting his teeth, holding the milk carton with two hands to avoid throwing it at the back of Kenny's thick head.

"Nice face as well," Kenny grinned before they returned to their station, dropping the ingredients besides Olivia's dry ingredients. She glanced up from the scales, flashing a smile.

"Great, thanks Kenny," She smiled at Kenny as though Niko weren't there at all. Was this some sick prank Kenny and her had orchestrated to tease him? Was she purposefully ignoring him?

Kenny seemed to bask in the praise though, as he grinned cockily and leaned against the workbench besides her, exuding confidence as he made talk.

"What can I do to help?" Kenny asked, picking up an egg and tossing it up, catching it cleanly and doing it again.

"You can try crack an egg into a separate bowl." Olivia instructed before (finally) turning to Niko, who had tried to lean against the workbench like Kenny had, but Niko simply felt like he looked a bit silly. Out of place and too tall to be leaning against the bench. And he had a feeling if he even tried to play catch with an egg like Kenny was he'd make an even bigger mess of himself. "We need four eggs so you can do two as well, Niko."

Niko nodded enthusiastically, puffing his chest and putting an egg in either hand.

"I can crack an egg without any shells getting in." Kenny bragged, neatly cracking his egg against the counter before the inside smoothly plopped into the bowl.

"That's easy stuff." Niko laughed, though he couldn't remember the last time he'd he'd cracked an egg. He followed what Kenny had done and much to his surprise he didn't spill the egg or allow any eggshell into the bowl.

"Can you do it one handed, though?" Kenny neatly cracked his egg with just one hand, impressing even Olivia as she nodded approvingly from behind.

"Impressive, Kenny." She appraised, as Kenny took a sweeping bow with a smirk only Niko could see. 

"Well, I..." Niko searched his mind for a way to one up Kenny. He wanted Olivia to praise him like that. "Can do that with my eyes closed."

"Can you really?" Olivia asked with a raised brow. She was clearly dubious but still seemed interested. "If you can then I will be seriously impressed."

"I'll make sure you can't see," Kenny reached around him and put a hand over his eyes, rendering Niko blind. Niko heard Olivia mutter a quiet ayo before he realised he was indeed not going to be able to do this. 

Niko managed to locate the counter, but not the bowl. He felt the slimy albumen glide over his fingers before the hand over his eyes was removed and he saw the smashed egg and shell all over the counter. Olivia had her hands covering her face in horror, eyes squeezed shut, and Kenny with a hand over his mouth trying to supress his incredulous guffaws. 

"WHICH IDIOT," Chunkz's voice boomed as he approached, spotting the mashed egg that was slowly slipping from the counter and dribbling down to the floor in escape. "HAS SMASHED AN EGG NOT IN THE BOWL?"

"A grave accident occurred-" Niko began explaining, putting on his camera persona to at least look as though he all had in under control. In reality, he could feel his annoyance oozing out into hot, bubbling jealousy in the pit of hit stomach. And embarrassment seemed to shroud him as he felt his cheeks glowing, ears probably a glowing red as he felt Olivia's gaze on the back of his neck.

"CLEAN IT!" Chunkz cut Niko off, muttering obscenities to the camera as he walked away. 

"Well then," Kenny slid the kitchen roll across the table and towards a scowling Niko, who ripped off a sheet and began scrubbing the workbench as he heard Kenny say "Well then, I guess that makes you and I the main chefs for now."

Niko could've turned around and kicked his shins right there and then. Instead he kept scrubbing at the slimy egg and hand picking the shell from the floor, inner turmoil bubbling and just about ready to boil over as he could only listen to their sickening laughter and little jokes. Niko watched as AJ sneakily approached Kenny and Olivia from behind (the two of them far too busy scooping the gloopy mixture into the cake tin)  with a small bottle of what appeared to be bright red herb in his hand.

Niko was ready to yell out for the Rat to piss off and stop trying to sabotage them, until it turned around and noticed Niko, grinning and instead diverting to chat with his favourite. Small, snarky and sincere, Aj had become Niko's favourite housemate, and they'd grown surprisingly closest out of the lot. For some reason, Niko always found himself able to pick up a grin around his favourite rodent. 

"What you doing scrounging 'round the floor whilst Kenny's stealing your girl?" AJ questioned cheekily, leaning over the workbench from behind to stoop down to Niko's level. Usually it was Niko that had to lean down to AJ's level, but Niko was amused by the role reversal none the less. 

"I dropped an egg now I have to clean up the mess like Chunkz-" Niko paused his explanation as he mulled over AJ's words once more. "Hang on, what do you mean by your girl?"

"I'm the master of love, I know everything Niko," AJ snickered as Niko rolled his eyes. "Cmon, you didn't think I missed the messages you've been sending her for meetups and to grab coffees, did you?"

"How'd you see those?!" Niko hissed, backing up to get away from Olivia in case she overheard their conversation. Though much to his dismay, Olivia seemed really occupied with Kenny as it were. "They are private messages for a reason!"

"Yeah yeah, just don't leave your phone unlocked when you go to take a piss." AJ rolled his eyes as Niko facepalmed. "But that's beyond the point- why you just letting Kenny flirt with her in front of you? I thought you liked her?

"I do," Niko sighed. "She's just... I don't know. I don't even know if she likes me. We never called our meetups 'dates'...I'm just angry for no reason. Kenny doesn't realise I like her and it isn't Olivia's responsibility to tell him to stop or anything... Besides, I don't blame her- Kenny's something different. The muscles, the smile... And he has good rizz-""

"Do you like her or Kenny?" AJ raised a brow.

"Her of course!" Niko exclaimed before closing his eyes and sighing. "I just don't know whether it's worth... Well, I don't even know what the whole deal is."

"The deal is that you're being a PUSSY," AJ pushed him from behind, Niko scrunching his eyebrows. Was AJ being for real? "Go and get her attention- make some shortbread or icing with her, i don't care... just stop watching from the side-lines. It's weird."

"Fine, you have me sold." Niko huffed before grinning as he turned to AJ. "Only because you're the master of love, though."

With a loving neck-slap from AJ, Niko returned to the workbench with a new sort of bravado as the other two slotted the cake tin into the oven. 

"Hey, Livvy," Niko called with a smile which he hoped exuded whatever Kenny managed to put into his smile- even using that nickname they'd laughed about in the park previously. "Wanna help me make some shortbread pieces for the top of the cake?"

"That's a great idea, yeah," Olivia nodded enthusiastically, leaving Kenny's side to join Niko. "There's some shortbread in the fridge that needs rolling out, I think- we can use that- and Kenny, you can work on the buttercream whilst we do."

Niko grinned as Olivia fetched the shortbread, Kenny working on the buttercream by himself leaving him and Olivia some time to spend with one another. Speaking of:

"Hey, Niko, some genius put the dough on the top shelf- can you use your superhuman length to grab it," Olivia called for Niko. 

Might be muscular but doesn't have my height Niko almost grinned at the thought, though he knew fully well Kenny would be able to grab the dough just as easily as he had done. 

"Hey," Olivia spoke with a hushed voice, meaning that he had to crouch down slightly to share the private conversation. He lowered himself until he was eye-level with her, grinning as she rolled her eyes at the gesture. She looked beautiful, right now. So Niko thought; with her bun slightly messy and askew, her cheeks dusted with a bit of flour, lips curved into that same beautiful smile. "You alright? You seemed a bit quiet earlier..."

Niko shook his head, the memory of being so annoyed at Kenny feeling stupid in itself. "All good, now." Olivia nodded before flashing a smile and taking his hand, pulling him back to the workbench now with butterflies swimming around his stomach, the feeling of her hand slotted between his so perfectly giving him almost a headache from the insane headrush he was getting. 

Olivia was first to plop the dough down, unsuccessfully attempting to knead it with her hands before offering it to Niko. "Whatever setting that fridge is on, they've basically frozen that dough," She had grumbled, complaining it was too stiff for her to roll out. 

Well fuck, Niko thought, knowing damn well he didn't have strong, dough-kneading arms. Still couldn't hurt to try, right? He had big hands and he was sure he'd read something in physics saying size was better that strength.

Rolling his sleeves up, Niko cracked his knuckles before attempting to stretch the dough with ease. As he lay his hand flat on it and attempted to push it out-

It didn't budge a bit. 

"This is, erm," Niko huffed as he put all his body's strength into stretching it out. "This has definitely been frozen- you can't even move a bit of this thing-"

"I'll give it a go," Kenny shrugged from across the workbench. Niko felt like ripping his hair out as Kenny began rolling his sleeves up. Obnoxious prick, Niko thought Everyone knows you have muscles, it's nothing special...

But it is special, another intrusive thought spoke, calmly enough to disturb Niko and offset his jealousy. Making Niko feel something maybe more depressing. Where's your muscles, Niko, you don't have what he has...

Niko huffed, pushing it to the back of his mind and letting his inner monologue overrule the thought. Either way, it's science, he won't be able to knead frozen dough- it'll just break off-

Niko's thoughts were futile as Kenny began rolling the dough out and kneading it with the fluidity of a baker. Olivia praised him and Niko internally rolled his eyes as Kenny lapped it all up with his stupid smirk on his face, flexing his bicep and letting her feel it whilst he worked the dough with the other hand.

Niko sulked, pushing the rolling pin from hand to hand and refusing to allow that stupid, demeaning thought play on his mind as his eyes caught a vacant AJ's gaze. AJ grinned as he made eye contact before looking to the side and catching Kenny and Olivia together again. AJ pointed to his mouth and gagged to sign-language his distaste. Niko exhaled a pathetic laugh, though he felt his heart growing heavy as he felt the moment slipping through his fingers once again. 

Yeah, Niko thought, I don't like seeing it either, AJ. 

"THAT'S TIME UP EVERYONE, PUT YOUR CREATIONS ON THE FRONT DESK PLEASE." Chunkz yelled after a bit. 

It was fair to say that both cakes seemed surprisingly impressive considering the chefs. 

Niko, Kenny and Olivia's carrot cake looked delectable, coated in buttercream and topped with shortbread hearts and stars (and a complementary penis)  and Chunkz nodded in approval as theirs was placed on the front desk.

But also, Gib, AJ and Sharky's Victoria sponge seemed well crafted as well- with an even golden colour and gentle sifting of sugar powdered like snow on the top. 

AJ stood besides Niko, Olivia also besides Niko- her shoulder brushing against his arm. He felt as though he should put his arm around her shoulder, but his heart pounded in his chest at the mere thought of it. 

"I think we could win this!" Olivia whispered excitedly, looking up at Niko with a sparkle in her eyes that almost made Niko's heart melt. He took the opportunity, and decided to put his arm around her- hand on her shoulder as he rubbed it supportively in a side hug.

"All thanks to you," He whispered back with a sincere smile. Olivia's face only glowed even more, somehow.

"This is..." Chunkz went into the carrot cake for another spoonful before meeting the team's eyes with an astounded look.  "One of the best carrot cakes I've ever tasted."

"YESS!" Kenny cheered as Niko and Olivia met in a hug, Niko moreso celebrating the way Olivia wrapped her arms around his body as they hugged, resting her head against his body and jumping up and down with him, her hair bouncing up and down jovially. 

The groups went to taste their own creations, AJ giving Niko a slice which he said "hasn't been licked by me, yet" which Niko felt as though he were enjoying until he turned around and saw Kenny and Olivia trialling their carrot cake together.

Kenny had cut a slice out, taking a bite from it before nodding with wide eyes and picking up the slice, jokingly telling her to open wide and holding the slice out. 

Her cheeks were bright red, lips curved upwards and making her eyes contract into little crescents as she laughed at Kenny's gesture, though she leaned forwards to take a bite as Kenny placed his other hand beneath her chin, keeping complete eye contact even as she bit into the cake, only lowering his hand when she pulled away to swallow. 

Niko felt as though his heart had been slowly and agonizing pulled apart piece by piece in front of him, unmoved and placid whilst he watched Kenny laugh with Olivia. Niko never seen such a domestic look in Kenny's eyes as he smiled down at Olivia gently... and the terrifying way he seemed so warmed by Olivia's presence- her jokes, her smiles, her charisma...

And even Olivia seemed to like him.

It were as though someone had switched the channel- as though Niko's mind was just filled with static as he tuned out to the finale of the video, clearing the mess and helping the camera crew pack away without a word, his mind buzzing and racing as he worked on autopilot. 

Does she always seem that happy? He had himself questioning. Was she that happy with me? Did she smile like that all those times I went out with her? Does she compare me to Kenny? Does she think I'm less of a person compared to him...? That he's better than me...? Does she even think about me around him or does he mean that much to her that she loses her head around him the way I lose my head around her?

The questions shrouded his mind as he stepped outside, feeling as though a tear drop were rolling down his face as he exited the building, heart heavy and body a big bundle of nerves- like he were going to explode if someone touched him. 

"NIKO!" A hand on top of his was what woke him from his dazed state. He whirled around, electrified by the sheer feeling of someone's touch against his, waking him up from that horrifying daydream. 

There stood Olivia, his Livvy- hair still in a beautiful untidy bun, face still a perfectly stained with flour... Though she was wet. Droplets ran down her face like teartracks.

Niko looked up.

It was raining.

How hadn't he noticed it was raining? He had felt the teardrops staining his cheeks, yet not the heavy London bullets firing down the back of his neck. 

"Niko what-" Olivia's words were cut off as Niko tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It had been covering her face. She smiled weakly at the gesture before clearing her throat and holding up her hand, carrying his puffer with her. "You forgot this..."

"Oh." Niko mustered. She didn't really care, did she. Was this all a game to her? Probably. He felt as though his efforts were futile, and so, Niko pulled his jacket from her arms before turning around and walking away again. She just came to give back his jacket. Of course. What else. 

He only managed a few more paces before he was stopped again.

"NIKO-"

"WHAT." This time he responded with an exclamation of his own. "What is it? Did I forget something else?! Did I mess something else up?! What now..."

He felt like shit the moment he'd let the words escape his mouth. Olivia's face seemed to fall slack.

"I just wanted to ask what's wrong..." Her face crumpled. Not as though she were about to cry- she was just suffering from empathy, and it made Niko's poor, bleeding heart seem to crumble.

He closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her shoulders- the two soaked bodies meeting in a warm embrace.

"You have no idea the way I feel for you you, Livvy." He mumbled, looking up at the sky. He couldn't tell whether he wanted her to hear it or not, but she seemed to have caught the message.

"Niko, you fucking idiot," She chuckled wetly against his sweatshirt, her harsh spoken words pulling Niko's head down so that their eyes met. "I don't know what you feel for me, but I... I like you. A lot."

The words seemed to take weight off of his shoulders. He looked down at the girl in his arms. His arms. His Livvy. 

"What about Kenny?" The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"What about him?" Her eyebrows furrowed as though she'd never even heard of his name. Then as though the truth of the universe hit her, her face cleared in realisation, before she began laughing. "Oh-Oh my, Niko, are you jealous?"

"Should I NOT be?!" Niko found it in himself to laugh incredulously. "I thought you two had something going this entire time?"

"I could never have anything with someone else when you're there, Niko." She smiled softly.  Niko couldn't take the feeling of bittersweet aching his heart carried. 

"I wanna kiss you so bad right now." Niko breathed, a smile tracing his lips.

Olivia was the one to get onto her tip-toes, throwing her arms around Niko's shoulders and pressing her lips softly against his. Niko's heart raced as he reciprocated the kiss, his arms instinctively pulling her closer by the waist. Time seemed to stand still as they melted into each other's embrace, their connection deepening with each passing second. 

Until Olivia pulled away, sucking in a breath of fresh air and grinning. 

The rain had soaked her hair, pressing those stray hairs flat against the sides of her face, and Niko yet couldn't think of anything but how lucky he was. And how stupid he was. How fucking ecstatic he was with Olivia in his arms. 

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

Hope you all enjoyed, pls give a little heart n whatnot if you liked

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

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#aj shabeel #niko omilana #chunkz #sharky #beta squad #sidemen #king kenny #niko x reader #niko oneshot #neeko #oneshot #youtube

[zoeykallus]

smh i cannot believe i missed your first maul hc post 🤤

haha omg maul waking in on fem reader doing “self care!” and if you can, a version where fem reader has to seduce maul and another version where maul has to seduce fem reader? (if that is too much, just pick the scenario you like best.)

Aloha!

I'm so sorry for the late response! These days I can barely find time to write. Most of the time, I write at nights when I'm supposed to be sleeping 😅 Which is good and bad. My creative side is wide awake at night, much more so than during the day. The downside is, I don't get nearly enough sleep, I might get mistaken for a zombie and catch a headshot some day. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Okay, enough excuses and crying over spilled milk.

If you don't mind, I really like the idea of Maul walking in on fem!reader doing self-care. He needs to punish her, of course.

Maul x fem!Reader Oneshot - Bad Girl

Warnings: Smut/Sexual Content/Dub-Con/PiV/Toy Use/Dom Maul/ Sub Reader/Cunnilingus/18+

________________________

These days, Maul is on the road a lot again. You don't know exactly what he does, he doesn't talk much about his missions, the things he does. In any case, you haven't had any intimate contact for a long time. You are ravenous, Maul is on the road again, and you take the opportunity. You have completely undressed, naked self-care just feels better. With one hand you caress and massage your breasts, play with your nipples, the other hand wanders between your thighs. Your fingers dance over your clit. It feels good, always close to the edge, but somehow not close enough. Something is missing. You grab your favorite dildo, a custom one you had secretly made, it's modeled after Maul's cock, with the same nubs, and ridges. A cheeky smile is on your lips. You touch the dildo, it feels deceptively real, in excited anticipation, juices gather in your pussy. You place the dildo on your wet entrance as your fingers continue to rub over your clit. "I've been a bad girl," you say softly as you begin to push the lifelike dildo inside of you. It feels so good, so relieving, almost real. This is it, this is what you've been missing. With a moan, you drop your head back on the sofa cushion and start moving the dildo between your slick walls.

But then you hear something, it sounds like a growl. You lift your head in surprise. Maul is standing in the middle of the room, staring at you, his gaze gloomy, hard to interpret.

You haven't even heard him coming in. He stands there with his natural crown of horns, his eyes like a burning ember.

Startled, you tear the blanket off the back of the sofa and want to cover yourself, but Maul darts over to you and snatches the blanket from you, throwing it carelessly behind him. You lie there, naked, with the dildo in your pussy, heart racing as he stands over you. He examines you, his gaze falling between your legs. "I guess you couldn't wait for me to come back?" he growls. You swallow, searching for your voice, and finally say, "You've been gone so much lately, it's been a long time since we've.... well-" He interrupts you, "And you thought you were cheating on me with a piece of plastic?" You blink. "Cheating?" you ask, confused. He points to the piece of dildo sticking out of your wet pussy. "Yes, cheating. Or is that my cock in your pussy?" Again you blink in confusion. You know that Maul is prone to jealousy, very much so, but jealousy of a dildo is not what you expected.

"Well, it's basically your cock," you say meekly. He frowns, kneels on the sofa between your legs and grabs the bottom of the dildo, pulling it out a bit, eliciting a small moan from you. His gaze shoots back up to your face. You look at him shyly, cheeks heated. Finally, he looks back down, at the dildo, turning it a little inside your pussy to see more of it. You have to bite your lower lip to keep from moaning again. "That one really looks like mine," he murmurs thoughtfully. He looks back up into your face, a teasing smirk on his face. "Well, in that case," he says, sliding the dildo back in. Your mouth pops open, and you can't hold back the moan. You hear him laugh softly. "While we're at it.... what's that?" He spots the vibration switch, turns it on, eliciting a sweet little sound from you. His grin widens, and he increases the vibration level, all the way up. "Oh gods," you squeeze out, feeling like your whole body is being shaken.

"If you're going to do it, do it right," he says, amused. He lies down between your legs, grips your thighs tightly with his hands, and his mouth descends on your clit. He sucks on it while his tongue slides wildly over it, circling, applying pressure. "Fuck... Maul..." You can't even manage to form complete sentences anymore, the vibration in connection with his tongue play is just too much. You're literally racing towards the edge. His tongue is so fast and deft, the dildo filling you vibrates wildly between your slick walls. You long for the climax, but you're also a little afraid of it. You know he will overstimulate you mercilessly, that's his way of punishment. But you can't stop it, your orgasm lets out a loud moan from your lungs, rolls over your whole body like a wave and makes your thighs quiver. But he doesn't stop. His tongue dances wildly on your swollen, overstimulated clit, the dildo continues to vibrate in your pussy. You moan, twitching, trembling in his hard grip that is sure to leave marks. "Maul... please... no more..."

He waits a few more seconds until he gives in to your pleading. Maul sits up, jerks the dildo out of your pussy, which elicits a surprised sound from you. He doesn't turn the dildo off yet, though. He just puts it aside for a moment, grabs your hips, and flips you onto your stomach. "Spread it," he murmurs. You spread your legs for him as instructed. Maul slides the dildo under your pussy so the toy vibrates right against your clit. You start to twitch again, still overstimulated, but he puts his hand just above your butt on your lower back, pushing you down, onto the dildo. You let out a squeak, and you know he's smiling with satisfaction right now. One leg on the floor, one knee on the sofa, he kneels right behind your bare ass. With his free hand, he opens his pants, freeing his now hard, thick cock. He gives you a good slap on the butt, not aggressive, almost tender. "My bad girl," he says, laughing softly.

In the position, pressed by him into the sofa, naked in front of him, about to finally receive the real cock, your arousal picks up momentum again. Then you feel his tip bumping against your opening, slowly plunging between your slick walls. He penetrates you completely. Maul pauses there a moment with a growl, deep from his chest, he can feel the vibration of the toy as well. "Interesting," he says softly. Then he gets going, his hips starting to thrust back and forth, faster and faster. His pelvis keeps hitting your buns loudly, the clapping fills the room. He now has both hands on your hips, pushing you towards his thrusts and down onto the vibrating dildo as he does so, his balls touching the toy and causing a surprising rush.

His fingers dig into the flesh on your hips as he fucks you harder and harder. You bite into the pillow on which your head has been lying before, your fingers claw into the fabric of the sofa. Your saliva wets the pillow, your eyes roll back. The moment his warm cum spurts into your cleft, your walls twitch around his grooved cock, your orgasm pulsing sweet and heavy through your swollen pussy as he fills you. Both of you are breathing heavily. Slowly, Maul lets go of your hips, you can feel that he has left bruises there. He bends over you, kisses the spots and says, "I had to punish you". You can live with this kind of punishment, you think to yourself silently. But you know Maul knows full well that you like it. He gets you some wipes, so you can clean yourself up, then he says, "Get ready, we're going out tonight." "You're taking me out?" you ask with a smile. He rolls his eyes, but then he also smiles and says, "You're right, I've been out a lot, leaving you alone for too long."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

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#star wars #maul #darth maul #maul x reader #darth maul x reader #smut #maul smut #darth maul smut #star wars smut #maul x reader smut #sith #sith lord #asks #requests #suggestive #dub-con #zabrak

[dreamingcloudie]

❛❛ Safe and Sound ❜❜

✎ ❛❛ Everything is okay now, my dear. ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Genre/Format: Fluff (oneshot)

Warning(s): Use of Dottore's (speculated) real name

wc: ~1.7k

Notes: Thank you anons for requesting!! 💕💕💕 I hope softie Dottore is right up your alley for comfort <33

“No…” You muttered to yourself as you stepped out of the place you worked at.

The snow on the ground was thicker than it was this morning, which meant it would be a bit more time consuming to navigate through. You usually wouldn’t mind it any other day, but during a snowstorm? Without bringing an extra coat? Might as well stay at an inn nearby…

Actually, scratch that idea. You couldn’t.

You wouldn’t.

After what the gods decided to put you through today, all you wanted was to go back to the comfort of your cozy home. To go back to the loving arms of your husband. It would be a tiring walk but the thought of seeing him invigorated you. 

As you braced yourself and began the long walk through the unforgiving snow, you told yourself this would be the last unfortunate event the world would throw at you. Surely, whoever was pulling these cruel jokes on you would spare you since you’ve been through a lot already today, right?

After what felt like hours of your legs begging you to stop moving, you finally made it to the palace and the quarters your husband resided in. Judging by this hour of time, he was probably in his lab. 

But when you got there, the red light above the doors was on and you could hear something clashing in there.

Hm, it seems like he is busy right now… You thought.

He did say that you were an exception if you needed him. Though, you would feel bad for interrupting his work so you went to your shared bedroom instead. You went in and nudged the door to close. it didn’t fully shut, however. Leaving a tiny gap.

Everything felt so heavy on your shoulders today…

The moment your body met the bed, all the feelings that were bottled up before now bursted. You laid your face against the pillow, trying to drown out your muffled cries. 

This day just couldn’t get any worse, could it?

One of the segments—Beta, was just going to carry out his task when he saw you through the gap, he was about to go in and greet you but he could hear the choked sobs. He began to panic and told Delta who was with him to go get Prime. Knocking on the door softly, he alerted you of his presence.

You shot up from the bed, still clinging onto the pillow as he went over to you. He didn’t know what to do or say when you were sad, but he didn't want to just leave you alone. So he just went with standing there awkwardly while patting you on the back instead.

A few minutes later, Delta came back with the person you wanted to see the most.

Zandik, your dear husband.

When he arrived, both of his segments left, not before giving you one last pat on the back.

As the door closed, Zandik walked over to where you were, taking his mask off and setting a glass of water down onto the nightstand before taking a seat next to you. While you were trying to quiet down your sniffles with your face still in the pillow, his first thoughts were "did someone dare to hurt you?"

He had already thought of a million different ways of what to do to whoever bastard hurt you.

But his thoughts to exact revenge faded away when he observed your shaking figure, he couldn't find any signs of physical injuries on you. To which he was a bit relieved.

There goes one of his ways to skin someone alive…

When you calmed down enough, he finally opened his mouth.

"What happened?"

You raised your head up to face him, your eyes were puffy and red, your mouth was trembling.

"I… it sounds silly but, it's just…"

You tried to find the words you wanted to say.

"I don't know… today has been horrible. I somehow managed to trip myself twice, I was late to work, I accidentally lost an important document and got yelled at, I—" A sneeze surged through before you could continue your sentence.

You flopped your hands down onto the pillow, clinging onto it.

"And now I might be sick because I walked through a freaking snowstorm home…"

Throughout your rant, Zandik was just sitting there, nodding along as he listened to you intently.

"I see… oh you poor thing," he said, his brows frowned apologetically.

"I'm sorry that I interrupted your work... maybe you should—"

"No, you are far more important than my work." He stated sternly, cutting you off.

His darling was sad and he wanted to do whatever he could to comfort you, but he had zero clue when it came to comforting someone.

He still wanted to try though.

So much like Beta, he opted to give you an awkward side hug instead, rubbing his thumb against your shoulder in a soothing way as he got lost in his thoughts.

You very much appreciated your husband's attempt at trying to make you feel better, and let out an airy laugh at how he was still a stranger to this.

He stood up and took the glass of water from the nightstand, handing it to you.

"Here, it's best to stay hydrated after crying."

You took it after muttering a "thank you." Taking a sip as you watched him going into the bathroom connected to your room, soon the sound of a faucet turning on and running water filled your ear.

Then he came back out and opened the bedroom door, calling a segment over and whispered something in his ear. Delta nodded his head eagerly before carrying out the order Prime gave out.

What is he doing? You tilted your head.

Closing the door shut, he went back to the bathroom and turned the faucet off.

He came back to where you were and took the glass out of your hand, placing it back on the nightstand.

"Come with me, my dear. I believe a warm bath could soothe those tense muscles of yours," he said. Taking your hands with his and leading you to the bathroom.

He let go of your hand and began to take his clothes off, while you just stood there with your eyes closed, taking in the heat the hot bath gave off.

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see Zandik was already in the bathtub waiting for you.

He let out an amused laugh when you hurried to take yours off before going to join him.

You sat with your back leaning against his toned chest, your hand gently tracing the scars he had on his arms. It was mostly silent with only the sound of water moving around slightly, though the both of you didn't mind it. 

It was too relaxing and your eyes were starting to get heavy. Before you could fall asleep in the bath. Zandik gently nudged you awake.

"I know you wanted to sleep, but we wouldn't want you to drown now, would we?" He chuckled.

The water was getting cold anyway, so the both of you decided to get out of the bathtub and dried yourselves. 

When you exited the bathroom with clean clothes on, there was a bag full of your comfort snacks on the ground, along with a… weird metal box?

Ah, it seemed like these were the things Zandik told Delta to get.

You pointed at the weird box and asked, "What's that?"

"That's a device I've been working on for quite some time now. To put it in simple terms, it is built for entertainment and you can watch moving pictures on it." He explained.

Moving pictures? That's new.

He put some pillows and blankets down onto the ground, building a tiny little fort before urging you to go in and told you to munch on some snacks.

Flicking the switch on, the front of the box was now displaying some gray and white dots. He took another much smaller box, with a label on it that said "comedy" and put it into the opening.

He then scooted into the fort with you, lying beside you with his chin in his hand.

As you waited in anticipation, Theta and Omega appeared on it, causing you to gasp a little.

"Oh my— are they trapped in there?" 

"No, no, they aren't. Just wait and see." He told you, grinning a little.

"Ahem," Omega cleared his throat, his voice projected through the metal box.

"Uh, okay, let's see…" Theta muttered and looked at a piece of paper, presumably a script.

"Aha! Omega! What did the fish say when it swam into the wall?"

Omega sighed a bit, a scowl was apparent on the bottom half of his face.

"What." 

"Dam!" 

Some snickers could be heard from the box and Omega groaned.

You couldn't help but a little smile appeared on you as you watched his reaction.

"Okay, okay. What did the ocean say to another? Theta grinned, a contrast to Omega's gritted teeth.

"Nothing, they waved." Theta finished the joke off while snorting at how horrible these were.

You began to laugh a little as well at how stupid, and yet amusing this was. 

You were focused on the "television" which was the name of the device, your husband told you a while later.

He smiled to himself in triumph at how hard you were laughing, and that he got to see your happy self again. His favorite expression of yours.

It's been a few hours since you've been watching the segments' shenanigans and your eyes were starting to get droopy again. 

As your eyes fully closed, you leaned onto Zandik's arm as support and let your sleepiness took over you.

He noticed how your body went limp and slowly got himself up, careful not to wake you and picked you up, laying you down onto the bed gently.

Turning the television off, he got the pillows and blankets back onto the bed. Lifting your head up a little to slip a pillow underneath before getting in and joining you.

He had his arms wrapped around you protectively, keeping you safe and sound in his hold and hoped for a better day for you when tomorrow came.

Before he could fall asleep however, he could feel you moving in his arms. And a little peck was placed onto his cheek.

"Thank you for making me feel better today… I love you."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin x yn #dottore #genshin impact #dottore x reader #dottore x y/n #dottore x you #genshin dottore #il dottore #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui #fatui harbinger #fatui harbingers