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reiderwriter · 5 months

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Happily Ever After

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You have a big fat crush on Spencer Reid. And now you have to share his clothes, his hotel room and his bed for one special night.

Warnings: Day 31 of Kinktober - The End, vanilla sex, love confessions, p in v, pretty softcore compared to the other stuff. Fluff.

A/N: We did it! It's literally halfway to December, but I finally finished all of the kinktober fics! Thank you, everyone, for coning with me on this amazing journey. Thank you for all your support for thesr 31 fics, I literally wouldn't have done it without you 💖

It was hard being hopelessly in love with your coworker. This was a fact that you'd learnt upon entering the BAU and meeting Doctor Spencer Reid.

You'd never believed in love at first sight and to be truthful, you were still a sceptic, but there was something about him that had you leaning in, eyes sparkling as you hung on his every word.

If you were asked what exactly it was about him that you liked so much, you'd probably tie your tongue up trying to answer.

Maybe it was his intelligence. Maybe it was the complete obliviousness that went along with it.

It could have been the way he made sure to check in on you regularly, made sure you were managing the transition to the BAU well, and let you know that he'd be there to support you.

It was probably also because of how goddamn attractive he was. You swore that he was walking around like the female lead in a 00s rom com - he just didn't know how hot he was. In fact, he was so oblivious that he still didn't reconcile the fact that ‘Pretty Boy’ was less an insulting nickname and more the cold, hard truth.

You'd accidentally reminded him of that fact about a month into being deliriously into him.

“Pretty Boy…? Hey, Spencer? Doctor Reid? Nothing…” Morgan sat on the edge of your desk as he called over to the man just opposite him, sitting completely still bar his hand that was racing across a page as he read furiously.

“He's busy, Morgan. I'm sure if you just call his name Louder, he'll answer.” You sighed. Watching the two men quibble had become an interesting pastime, to say the least.

“Spencer, the office is on fire. Spencer, Hotchner, is naked in his office right now. Spencer, Rossi is naked in his office right now. Spencer, Y/N is-”

“Okay, that's enough,” you said, standing up from your desk and clearing your throat. You thought you'd just stand up and get Spencer’s attention the same way Derek had, projecting your voice just a little bit more.

“Pretty Boy.” As soon as the words fell from your lips, the man in question bolted upright, hitting his knee on the desk as he rose, locking eyes with you.

“Yes, Y/N?” Almost as soon as he was upright, Morgan was in fits on the floor, partly from the reaction, partly from Spencer's self injury. When he turned back to you and noticed your red face, the laughing fit only doubled.

Spencer joined you in perpetual embarrassment as Morgan slipped off, still laughing but seemingly no longer interested in whatever it was he wanted Spencer for in the first place.

“Y/N, did you need something?” He asked, clearing his throat as he sat down once again.

“No! No, actually, Morgan… it doesn't matter.” You smiled politely and sat back down, quickly pulling some paperwork together to make yourself look busy.

“Usually only Morgan calls me pretty boy.” He murmured from the other side of the desk

“That's because it's the truth.”

“What?” His eyes locked with yours as you suddenly realised he'd been talking to himself, not engaging you in further conversation.

“I… well, I mean, he wouldn't say it if you weren't actually pretty, Spencer.” He looked at you for a second, then relaxed, smiling softly as he continued his reading.

You could've sworn you heard a tiny thank you under his breath but you just continued your work and tried to calm your heart rate down.

After that, you made it your mission to out an arm's length between yourself and Spencer Reid. You were polite about it, of course, but you felt an awful lot like a teenager with a crush. Or maybe a pre-teen with a crush. Sometimes, to be honest, you were probably acting like a complete child.

Fate, or Aaron Hotchner, had other plans for you, though.

“If you can't make it, that's okay, but it's regulation to send two agents because of some prior interviews that have turned particularly violent.” He explained after he called you into his office.

“JJ has Henry to take care of, same for Kate and her niece. Morgan has a trial tomorrow, so he's unavailable as well, so I really only have you and Reid to ask. Can you do it?”

You weren't sure if it was some need to please the man in front of you as if you were his child who had scored badly on a pop quiz, or his perpetual state of exhaustion that had you giving in and nodding to the man, agreeing to five hours in a car with Spencer. But you did.

The ride wasn't all that bad, to be honest. In typical Spencer fashion, he'd bought along a few audiobooks to listen to, so most of the time was filled with The Faerie Queene and the sleep that you'd fallen into after listening to The Faerie Queene.

You couldn't fully escape conversation, though, and in between changing tapes, he started asking questions.

“How are you liking the unit?" He asked casually, his eyes on the road as you turned to stare at him.

“It's been good. The only downside is all of those field work fitness tests, though.”

“Be glad that you had to do those before you joined us. Morgan decided to be helpful and train me and Penelope.”

“That doesn't sound too bad,” you laughed at him as an honest frown coated his face.

“Have you seen the guy? He's like a walking weightlifting advertisement, I think he could bench press me. And it turned out that we didn't even need the training anyway.”

“Wow, and you fell for it? I thought you were a super genius, Doctor Reid.”

“Hey, that's discrimination. I can be very stupid, too. I contain multitudes.” You laughed and relaxed into the seat some more, memorising each detail of his face as you looked at him. There was a small awkward pause as he waited for you to say something else. Just as he made to turn and look at you, you straightened again and looked away before he could catch you.

“I'd love to see those multitudes some day.”

“I'd love to show you them.”

After that, you'd sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out of the window so he couldn't see the effect his words had on you.

You were thankful that the actual interview finished shortly, the death row inmate becoming rather chatty in his final days and gracious in the details he was willing to give out. The prison still put you on edge, though, so you were glad to have your gun back on your hip and fresh air in your lungs as you moved towards the car.

You were just waiting for Spencer to get off the phone so you could get back on the road and into your comfy bed.

“That was Hotch,” Spencer said, walking over. “We've got a case. We're closer than they are, so they want us to drive there and stay in the hotel for the night, and they'll see us tomorrow.” He smiled in sympathy as he watched your face fall.

The stuttering of your heart was so loud that you almost couldn't hear his words. Surely, that didn't mean you had to spend the night with Spencer Reid? You didn't know if you'd actually survive that.

“I-I don't have my overnight bag.” You said.

“Hotch said JJ is picking it up. She'll pass it to you tomorrow.”

“But it's winter, what am I going to wear tonight?” You practically whispered the words as your brain finished functioning once again.

“I have something you can change into. Of that's okay with you, of course!” You didn't trust yourself to talk, so you just nodded at the man and climbed into the car, ready for him to take you to your home for the night.

Fate didn't stop there, though.

“There's been some kind of mistake,” you heard Spencer mumble as you walked up to the front desk behind him. You'd been sat on a sofa in the foyer waiting for him to return with your key and his when you realised he'd been taking too long.

“What's the problem?” You asked as he turned around to look at you, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

“They only booked one room.”

“Sir, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to take up the issue with your company. But there's only one room here in your name, and we're otherwise fully booked for the night. We had two weddings and an academic gathering this weekend. Guests are still trickling in and out.”

“Okay, what about my name? Can you see if there's anything under Y/L/N?”

“I already tried that. They have Hotchner down, but only from tomorrow.” His jaw tensed again as he turned to you. If you knew him better, you'd probably be able to recognise his nervousness. God, how you wished you knew him better.

“It's one night?” You nodded and took the keys from the receptionist as you and Spencer walked towards the room you'd be sharing for the evening.

“Derek says I talk in my sleep, but that claim has never been substantiated with any real evidence. Also I prefer to sleep on the bed nearest to the window, is that okay?” Spencer rambled slightly awkwardly as you approached your new hotel room.

You smiled at him and flexed your hand slightly, trying to reach out to comfort him but holding yourself back from the casual physical contact.

“It's okay,” you said, grabbing the key card. “Let's go in.”

If that day had taught you anything, it was to expect something else to go wrong.

The room was wonderful, with a large window, a competent bathroom, surprisingly spacious for the usual FBI budget. There was, of course, only one bed.

“I'll take the sofa. It's right next to the window anyway.”

“Spencer it's not a pull-out. You're never going to get any sleep on that thing.” You stood your ground, dumping Spencer’s bag and your own small purse on the sofa so he couldn't take up permanent residence there.

You weren't sure why you were fighting so hard to get him in the same bed as you, knowing what effect it would have on you, but you didn't care to think about that right this second.

“Okay, let's just get ready to sleep, and we can talk about it again.” He said, digging you out an old pair of sweatpants and a caltech jumper and gesturing for you to use the bathroom first.

You quickly showered up and changed into the warm clothes. It was strange to be able to feel how much bigger than you he was since you'd never really considered it.

Spencer was tall, but you weren't exactly petites, and yet here you were, getting swamped by his college sweatshirt. And you knew for a fact that he'd been practically a child still when he'd last graduated.

“All yours, Spencer,” you said, walking from the bathroom and over to the bed where you'd left your phone on charge.

He didn't say anything, but you noticed he'd stayed stuck to the spot and sat at the opposite end of the sofa reading a book.

“Spencer? Did you hear me?” That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and he finally diverted his eyes away from you.

“No pretty boy this time?” He pouted under his breath, but you laughed all the same, watching him grab similar garments from his bag again and travel to the bathroom.

You must've drifted off slightly between him going in and coming out, because when you woke, there he was again on the sofa.

“Spencer? What are you doing? Get into bed.” You blinked your eyes a few times, rubbing away the sleep in them as you sat up. Spencer had sat up on the sofa, reading his book again, his hair still slightly damp from the shower.

“I said I'm fine here, Y/N. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” Sighing, you pushed yourself out of bed and walked around it to where Spencer was.

“Spencer, you're like 6’4. This sofa couldn't even sleep a five year old comfortably, let alone all of you.” You slipped the book from his hand, shutting it and placing it on the side table.

“I'm assuming you don't need a bookmark?” When he shook his head with a resigned sigh, you grabbed his hand and pulled him up.

“Y/N, are you sure?”

“Spencer, you already gave up your clothes for me, I'm not letting you give up the bed, too.”

“It's okay, I enjoyed giving up the clothes.” You couldn't really help the nervous goggle that slipped from your mouth at that statement.

“Sorry, I just meant I'd-”

“I know what you meant, Spencer. Let's just go to sleep now.” Grabbing his hand once again, you turned the main lights off, lamps lighting your way to the bed.

Turning Spencer around, you gently shoved him onto the bed. Though, expecting him to let go of your hand, you'd planned that only he would land there.

Instead, he doubled down on his grasp of your hand, and you fell with him, landing directly on top of him on the bed, mouths inches from each other.

You paused there for a few moments, not sure what move was the right one to make. His hips shifted upward slightly, but that was all the movement you needed for you to settle over his crotch rather than his legs.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered breathlessly as you felt every inch of him harden underneath you.

“I'm not,” he said, eyes searching your face for god knows what.

When he found it, though, he didn't hold back. His free hand slid up to the back of your head, slamming it down so your lips could lock together, a passionate joining that rid you of all the oxygen in your body.

“Spencer,” you gasped between kisses as he worked his hand lower, both hands free to wrap tightly around your waist as he continued kissing you with a passion.

“So beautiful,” he whispered as he finally pulled away again, holding you as close as he could before capturing your lips one more time.

Your head swam through the sensations blindly, both confused and considerably fused to him at the same time.

Spencer's lips, Spencer's hands, Spencer's everything pressed up against you as you sighed contentedly at his ministrations.

“Spencer… what are we doing?”

“I don't know. I don't want to stop, though.” His lips matched yours furiously as he pushed his sweater off your body, whining slightly when he had to break contact to get it over your head.

His hands were instantly exploring your chest, grasping your body like it was his lifeline, as your hips rocked against his own.

You knew you needed to stop this, and soon. Your body didn't agree. If you had sex with Spencer Reid right now, you knew there was no way in hell any other man would ever match up.

“Spencer, stop.”

To his credit, he did, hands dropping instantly as he created space between the two of you. Or as much as you'd allow, still sitting on top of him.

“I'm sorry, I took advantage, I shouldn't have kissed you like th-”

“I love you.” You blurted out, so desperate for him to shut up and listen to you. Which again, to his credit, he did.

“What?” He whispered, stars shining in his eyes.

“I told you to stop because I love you. If you don't feel the same way, that's okay, but I don't think I can do this if you don't.”

“You love me?”

“Yes, I just said that. Aren't you supposed to have an eidetic memory?”

“Individuals with eidetic memories often struggle with short-term memories, hanging onto older memories more vividly and recalling them faster.”

“So you want me to say it again?”

“Over and over, preferably.” He said with a grin, flipping you over so your back was on the bed as he hovered over you.

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your cheek.

“Again.”

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your neck.

“One more time,” he whispered, stroking your hair as he finally looked into your eyes.

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your lips once again, holding nothing back as he poured all his joy into you.

“I love you, too.”

Your legs tangled together in a blur after that, both hopelessly breathing each other's oxygen. You were giggles and moans, whimpers, and confessions as you found yourself pushing down the covers and your pants so you could slide into bed.

Neither of you stopped your confessions, still professing your love in each scrape of a nail, each lick, each bite.

When he finally entered you, your eyes rolled back in pleasure, drunk on him and every reaction he was giving you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he moaned. “I love how you feel wrapped around me.” His hips snapped softly into you, but he went deep, pushing in the entire way before even letting himself think of drawing himself out of that beautiful heat.

“I love how reactive you are for me. I love seeing each of your emotions cross your face. I love how you called me pretty. I love how intelligent you are. I love you.” You were overcome with emotions as you finally felt pleasure wash over you, tingling through your body in ripples as he grunted into your ear, close as well.

Wrapping your legs around him, you nuzzled into his neck and held him tight as he finally finished inside of you.

You fell asleep like that in each others arms, clinging to each other for dear life.

When you woke the next morning, it was with a start as you realised the sun was already awake.

Spencer, however, wasn't, and you jolted up in a panic as you rolled him off of you.

“Spencer, wake up, the others are going to be here any minute, it's 8:45.”

“No, they're not,” he said, pulling you right back into his chest.

“You said yesterday that they're coming today ready for the new case.”

“They started driving at 7am. Driving is going to take them 5 hours 34 minutes, give or take half an hour if there's an accident on the roads. We have plenty of time.”

You relaxed slightly into his hold, then feeling his warmth against you as he stirred slightly again.

“Of course, we could always do something else to pass the time.” You opened one eye and turned back to face him as his hand traced down to the parting of your legs.

“Nice try, lover boy. If you're awake enough for that, you're awake enough to get started on the case.”

“I preferred pretty boy,” he groaned but rolled away from you, as you both started getting ready for the day.

Within half an hour, the two of you were up and ready to answer an incoming video call from Penelope Garcia.

“Hello beautiful, how is upstate treating you?” She said as you picked up and beamed at her, somehow unable to control the happiness rolling off of you.

“It's been good,” you practically giggled, wiping a hand across your face as you attempted to clear away the grin there.

Spencer approached the laptop screen, too, greeting Penelope with a small squint as he looked down.

“Hey, Penelope. Do you have the case details for us?”

“I sent through the files to your emails, Hotch has a paper copy for you too, Reid, when he gets there. We've got a copycat or a resurfaced killer from the 80s. Rossi says the details are familiar to him, but he was going to ask you when he found you.” You both nodded and thanked her, but still, she didn't hang up.

“So, one hotel room, how was that?” Penelope asked from the other side of the screen, eyes dancing between the both of you.

“How did you…?” You squinted as Spencer hurriedly closed the laptop to the sounds of her laughing victoriously. Spencer's face flushed again as he brushed his hair out of his face, trying to discuss the files with you as he changed the topic almost expertly.

“Stop. Spencer, how did she know about the hotel room?”

“Penelope books most of our hotel rooms.”

“Spencer, what aren't you telling me?” He shifted uncomfortably and looked at you in the eyes.

“I may have asked her to book only one room.”

“What? But the receptionist said-”

“I slipped her a twenty before you came up.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to be closer to you. When Hotch said he had this interview, and he said he was sending you too, I was so excited to spend time with you, because you've been avoiding me, and I wanted to know what I did wrong so I could make it better, but I guess I didn't do anything wrong because you love me somehow, so I must have done something very very right to deserve that.” He was rambling, but you didn't stop him, smile spreading as you listened to his accidental declarations of love.

“And then I had to beg Hotch to take this case next, because then we'd have an excuse to be alone longer if we were so close.”

You tried to catch his attention then by calling his name, but he didn't listen, too intent on his confession.

“I was going to tell you later today, once we were off work, I didn't want to say something in the middle of the case because that would've been unprofessional and honestly I didn't want the others to hear because I want you all to myself.”

“I'm rambling, aren't I?”

“Yes, God just shut up and kiss me.”

“You're not mad?”

“I might have been if I weren't so damn in love with you. But lucky for you, I'm crazy for you.” He smiled at you again, pulling you in close for one more kiss.

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zh-lele · 4 months

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12-7 ROOM (part two)

Surviving a week to Donghyuck's charms and jokes can't be so hard... Worst case scenario, you end up completely falling for your brother's best friend.

▪︎Pairing: brother's best friend!Hyuck x fem reader

▪︎Genres: poor attempt at rom com, fluff

▪︎Warnings: alcohol consumption, profanity, suggestive jokes, kissing, and some very light suggestive scenes.

▪︎Word count (part 2): 7721 words

playlist | extra content: mc's IG stories

Author's note: hi everyone :') sorry for being so absent and never posting the final part to 12-7 room. But hey, I finally got the motivation to do it. I've been also writing other things but I don't know when I'll finsih them or post them. Anyways, if you want to take a look, the other things I'm always working on are listed on my wips page. Once again, sorry for taking too long to post this and I hope someone can enjoy it anyway. Thank you so much for the love on part 1! Seriously, thank you. This isn't proof read so tell me if you find any mistakes, please and thank you. Enjoy!

Saturday, 08:37 p.m.

"I feel like we're betraying Mark."

"Why?"

"We're having a sleepover without him," you explain to Donghyuck while you extend your left hand to him, and he places his right hand over your palm, so you can continue painting his nails with a black polish. "You know, we're listening to Bruno Mars, eating watermelon–"

"Aren't we supposed to eat watermelon in the summer?" Donghyuck interrupts you to ask.

"Real watermelon enjoyers eat watermelon no matter what time of the year it is–Hyuck!" you scream after he makes a sudden move to grab a piece of fruit from the bowl and half his index finger ends up covered in black nail polish. "Stop moving your hand!"

"I'm sorry!"

He apologizes and stays still in front of your body, legs crossed and knees touching yours. Donghyuck is so close you can feel his breath in your hair, and even though you know it's impossible for him to hear your heart-rate increasing exponentially, you fear the closeness and the intimacy may give you away. Honestly, by this time you thought you might have figured it out: you had to either rethink your relationship and conclude that you were only going to be friends forever, or accept your feelings and confess to him, no matter what the outcome could be.

But you find yourself finishing Donghyuck's nails and looking up to him, who was–as more often as you thought–already looking at you. He smiles to you sweetly, no teeth on sight, and he looks ridiculous. Donghyuck is wearing a sheet mask with the form of a peach, yet you still find the sight in front of you incredibly endearing. The worst part about it is that you're looking as ridiculous as him, with the lemon-shaped sheet mask covering your face. You feel his thumb gently caress the back of your hand that he was still holding even long after you've finished. And as his soft features are illuminated by the warm dim lights of the lamp and the TV, as he holds your hand and looks at you as if you might be the prettiest lemon he has seen, you get that feeling again.

The comfort, the domesticity. The urge to be his companion, to share moments like this and many more. Every day.

Your phone buzzes as you set an alarm to take the masks off twenty minutes ago.

Donghyuck lets your hand go. He lets go of your heart too—but only for a second. He cradles your face, his soft fingertips pet your jaw, then your cheeks, and you can't hold his gaze anymore. You want to look down, drop your head before you start word-vomiting everything you're feeling and you've been feeling for him since the moment you met, since that first time he cooked ramen for you and you decided you wanted it to be your comfort food forever.

Donghyuck won't let you look down, though. He applies pressure with his fingers in the place where your neck and your jaw meet and with his thumbs on your cheeks. Your lips naturally pout under the pressure and you see it. Donghyuck. Your best friend. The guy you've liked forever now, looking at your lips for what you think it's been like the fourth time this weekend. And it's only been hours since the weekend started.

Is it really going to happen? Are you about to kiss Donghyuck right now? On the living room's couch on a saturday night in, under the dim lights, while Silk Sonic's Love's Train plays in the background and you're wearing fruit-shaped sheet masks?

It is fucking romantic.

Yet it never comes.

It doesn't happen.

Donghyuck just says: "It's time to take the masks off."

And you agree because, well, what the hell are you supposed to do? Just throw yourself all over him like you, maybe, have been imagining? Donghyuck takes your mask off your skin and you take his, that leaves his face looking the softest and smelling like sweet peaches. That definitely doesn't help your situation.

You're incredibly frustrated. Upset, even, like a kid who got denied his candy. (You wish Donghyuck was your candy.) You hate this sleepover now and even wish Mark was here to cock-block the entire situation. That would be less upsetting.

"And?" He asks once both of you have your masks off. "Do I look cuter now?"

Oh, so he's aware he's already incredibly cute.

You can't contain a smile. He's only centimeters away from you after he quickly moves back to look for his glasses. You feel the need to poke his cheeks that look as soft as marshmallows and smell like fucking peaches. Actually, you might feel the need to eat him.

But you don't dare say anything. Only trying to hide your smile looking down, as your face grows red, you let Donghyuck think of his own conclusions after your reaction.

Thing is, you're kind of a coward.

Donghyuck says it's time to netflix and chill, and you laugh because the statement is followed by a "Literally. Don't start thinking about something dirty."

He places himself on the mattress on the floor (the one you've been sleeping since you arrived), a bunch of pillows supporting his back, and makes room for you. He's cheeky enough to pat his stomach to tell you to lie there, between his legs and over his body. Just like that, as if you hadn't been melting before just by holding his hand in yours or having your knees touch. And now he wants you to lie on his stomach?

Are you really that close? If so, why isn't he your boyfriend yet?

You open your eyes wider and point a finger at yourself. "Me. Me?" Your voice comes out full of disbelief.

"Not you. Mark," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Of course it's you! Unless you don't want to lay together?"

"I mean…"

How do you make it sound not so desperate, not too obvious?

You just shrug and say, "Yeah, sure."

Aced it.

Donghyuck's body feels like the softest mattress you've ever laid on, like you could close your eyes and sleep trapped in his limbs forever. And because of the closeness, you can sense the vibrations of his voice traveling from his torso to your ears. His tone is quiet and gentle, talking about what to watch to no one in particular because, even though he's talking to you, you're too concentrated on opening your camera and capturing the moment in a video of the two of you.

"Look how cute," you say, moving your arm to his eye level to show him the video. "You talk in pout when you're really concentrated."

When you're conscious of the surroundings once again, you're sure you've replayed the video with a smile on your face like ten times.

"You should upload that."

"I've posted enough about you," you reply to his suggestion, going back and saving the video to your drafts. "People are gonna think you're my boyfriend or whatever…"

"Would that be so bad?" Donghyuck questions with his eyes fixed on the TV screen. When you move your head back to look up at him, he dares to connect eyes with you. "People thinking I'm your boyfriend?"

Sunday, 12:02 p.m.

Donghyuck had always been clingy.

Yet you didn't know he could be this clingy in the mornings.

Mark has been trying to get Donghyuck out of bed for like ten minutes now, but he won't get up. While your brother is pulling his arm out, Donghyuck pulls Mark's arm in, asking him to join him and sleep 'just a little more'.

Yes, your brother found you both sleeping on the mattress in the living room. No, you and Donghyuck were not clinging to each other (sadly). But Hyuck was for sure clinging to your brother now.

"Mark!" He protests in a sleepy tone. "What do you want if you won't come in?"

"We were supposed to have brunch together," your brother tells Donghyuck again, yet he must be too sleepy to process what's happening.

"I won't go." Donghyuck states and doesn't even open his eyes again. The living room is clear enough, as the winter sun has been hitting for hours now. But it isn't an impediment for him to curl up under the blankets like a burrito and go back to sleep.

Mark drops his shoulders and allows himself to sigh, finally defeated by his heavy-sleeper best friend. "I guess it's just you and me, y/n."

—

Fortunately for you, the weather has been amazing since you arrived in the city where your brother lives. Saturday was no different, with a clear blue sky above your heads despite it being winter, and the sun shining just the right amount to touch your skin and leave it warm. A little breeze messes with you and your brother's freshly dyed hair as you sit outside a coffee shop, brunch almost all devoured on the table. Mark hums to a familiar jazzy tune that plays all the way from inside the café.

And the atmosphere is beautifully calm. But you need to get something out of your chest. For once.

"So," you start and Mark moves eyes from his food to set them on you, expectant of your next words with a mouth full of pancakes and fruit. "I think I like Donghyuck."

Mark starts coughing after hearing you, and you wonder if it is because of the shock of your confession or because he really is that careless to get the food stuck in his throat.

"Yeah, I knew," he confirms once it's clear for him to speak again.

"The fuck you mean 'you knew'?"

"I mean, honestly, it's pretty obvious." Your brother can't hide a smile. He drops the fork to properly talk to you this time. "Like, you've always had some kind of thing… I don't know, I thought I had a special connection with Hyuck," he says pointing at himself, eyes wide with what could look like a little bit of shock. "But you two… You two are something else."

"Oh God," you cover your face in embarrassment even though after your brother's words there's no point in hiding anything anymore. "So you've been watching me acting like a fool in love around Donghyuck all this time, and you said nothing."

"I didn't say anything 'cuz I thought it had to come from you." He shrugs. "Wanted you to feel comfy enough to tell me, even though I had my suspicions, obviously."

"May I ask… Why," you hesitate a little before asking for a third-person perspective. "Why were you suspicious about it?"

"Dude, I don't know," a small laughter escapes him. "You just look like you'd be all over each other if you could."

You just groan in frustration hearing your brother saying you might have been way more obvious than you thought you were. Temperature rises to your cheeks coloring them a little red, and not because of the midday sun hitting right from above your head.

"And you can," Mark says, yet you don't get it, the tilting of your indicating he has to clarify. "Like, you can be all over each other. I don't know why nothing has happened between the two of you yet."

"'Cuz I don't know if he likes me?"

"How could you know if you don't try?"

Your gaze drops to your lap, and you realize you've been playing with the rings of your hands, taking them off and putting them on over and over, indicating the conversation is making you a little nervous.

Mark must notice, since he keeps talking. "Just tell him, dude. Best case scenario, he also likes you, you move out together and make me free from Donghyuck's ass."

The way he puts it makes you laugh, yet there's a slight weight to your eyes, as if tears could start falling down slowly at any time after holding your feelings in for so long. So you take a deep breath, blink a few times and look at the sun.

The sun, shining in its maximum splendor in the middle of the sky. And you wonder what he's doing right now. Donghyuck, or Haechan, as his mother used to call him when he was little. Full Sun, because he's always so bright and energetic, like a happy virus (Mark would also call him a pain in the ass, but you see, it depends on who you ask.)

"Worst case scenario, you remain as good friends," Mark continues. "C'mon, you know him, he's not a dick. You just gotta try talking to him."

You gulp and nod at him, now trying to make eye contact with a subtle smile on your face. Another deep breath. "You're right. Donghyuck won't hurt me, no matter what the outcome is."

Monday, 01:43 a.m.

On Mark's phone...

Meanwhile at the livingroom...

"Hyuck–wait. Can't we go slower?!"

"Look at that!" Donghyuck screams pointing at the TV screen, after taking the airpod off his right ear. You do the same with the one you were using, and the music from the game stops playing in your head. "I got a perfect score!" And he continues to do a silly victory dance, moving his hips from side to side with his arms in the air.

You really don't want to be mad at Donghyuck right now.

"This is so unfair," you tell him, stepping out of the frame and leaving the remote on top of the game console. "You didn't tell me you were this good. And you know I can't dance at all."

"You're right," Donghyuck says sincerely, a hand on his chest, right in front of his heart and all. "I didn't tell you I'm a dancing god and took advantage of your poor dancing skills to win the Just Dance."

You really don't want to get mad at him, but sometimes he makes it pretty much impossible.

"You." A hand comes in contact with Donghyuck's arm. Your hand. "Dirty." Another slap. "Bastard." And another one. "I hate you so much!"

"Hey!" He protests rubbing his arm after you slapped it. "Lying is a sin."

"I'm not lying," you say. "I hate you. You put on the fastest choreo to follow."

Donghyuck follows you around to the kitchen and watches your every move. He's right behind you, his eyes following your motions when you fill a glass with water, when you gulp it down, when you clean it and leave it back on the counter. He's hot on your heels when you come back to the common area and take the inflatable mattress out to get ready to sleep. He's still following your moves carefully when you put on the sheets and when you lay on it with the remote of the TV in hand. He only takes his eyes off your body when the Netflix logo appears on the screen and he notices you're about to watch the show you two started together.

You know he's dying for a word from you.

"You don't mean it," he says, now free of all mocking tones.

"I don't mean what?"

"You don't hate me."

You're pretty sure Donghyuck doesn't need you to confirm that you weren't serious. Naturally, he has always shown himself as a very self-assured and friendly person; It's not normal that people don't like Donghyuck. However, when you meet his eyes, wide and expectant of your response, and perhaps wet with a little insecurity, you understand that things are not always what they seem.

"How could I ever hate you, Hyuck?" you tell him to extend a hand in his direction, inviting him to lay on your side on the mattress.

Relief takes over his expression, and a wide smile is plastered on his face. He's quick to get comfortable (maybe too comfortable, not that you really mind) laying his head on your lap, and moving your left hand to his hair that looks like it's got longer over the days. You know he wants you to play with it—Donghyuck loves getting his hair played with. The fourth episode of My First First Love starts playing on the TV screen, and you hear Donghyuck sigh contentedly.

The subtle strokes at the hair on his nape get Donghyuck smiling again and exhaling deeper at your tranquil touch. And, not to be biased, but the colored lights coming from the TV highlight the softest, most beautiful face features you've seen in your life. In an act of courage, you move your fingertips from his hair, to his sharp jaw, to his cheekbones, gently caressing the warm skin.

Donghyuck moves his head on your lap until he's no longer watching TV. Neither are you. You're just staring at each other in silence. He's letting you stroke every part of skin until the tip of your fingers make it to his lips. His plump pink lips that have been tempting you more and more the past days. And he places a kiss there. On the tip of your fingers.

You freeze and grow red. Then he places another kiss, and another, making it three the times you've felt Donghyuck's lips on your skin.

It may be driving you crazy.

He's careful with his movements, so careful it turns almost painful watching him. Donghyuck grabs your wrist and gets up to sit beside your spot on the mattress. Doesn't let go of your hand—instead, he holds it tenderly, caresses the back of it with his thumb, then places another kiss there.

Four times you've felt Donghyuck's lips on your skin. Five. Six—he just placed a kiss on your palm. Wait, another on your wrist. That's seven kisses so far.

But it's not enough. Now you've felt his lips you want them everywhere, all the time. So when he gets your hand closer to keep kissing you there, you grab his face. Feel the skin there, of his jaw, of his neck, and it's really hot. You think you might even feel the rapid pace of his pulse when you press your fingers on his neck (but it could also be your own.) Lastly, you tangle your fingers in his hair that he has let grow during these weeks of winter break. You tug on it a little, just enough to let him know you want him close. Closer, please.

And Donghyuck sighs, more like he fucking moans.

You wonder if you should say something before moving forward. What about all the things you talked to Mark yesterday? Should you tell him about how you feel before kissing him? What does he want? And what would this be after you kiss?

The call of your name interrupts your torment of thoughts.

"Please," he begs in a whisper, eyes closed as your noses brush against each other. "I'll die if I don't kiss you right now."

A laugh comes out of you because he always has to be that exaggerated, but you decide to set all questions aside for a moment to just dive into him.

He starts off very gently, with his slightly parted lips pressing against yours. They are indeed as fleshy and soft as they look, and taste like a cherries lipbalm. Donghyuck repeatedly places small kisses on your lips until you open your mouth a little more, and he captures your lower lip, biting a bit there. It gets another little tug on his hair from you, a sigh of relief after tasting his mouth after years of longing, and everything becomes more needy.

Donghyuck grabs at both sides of your head to deepen the kiss, smashing lips together repeatedly and kissing you sloppily. When you allow him to, he pushes his tongue into your mouth and you push your body closer to his.

He grabs your wrist not neglecting your lips even a second, as if the both of you were magnetized, and places his palm on your waist inviting you to his lap. It makes you laugh out of nervousness, so Donghyuck opens his eyes to watch you straddle him and place yourself on top of him very carefully.

His touch travels from your waist to the sides of your torso, his right hand in a place that you're sure allows Donghyuck to feel your increased heart rate. Your hands cradle his neck, then tug at the hair of his nape as he observes you kind of mesmerized, inhaling deeply, smiling a little and wetting his lips before you're diving into each other once again.

You've lost count of the amount of times you've felt Donghyuck's sweet lips on you by now. But you're sure of one thing: you don't want it to be the last.

"In case you were still wondering," he breaks the kiss to talk to you. "I like you, kinda a lot."

His hair is slightly disheveled from all the pulling, his lips are shiny and swollen, and he looks a little agitated. In his incredibly dilated black pupils you can see the reflection of your smile.

"I also like you, Hyuck," you finally confess to him. "I like you like, a huge amount."

He lets out a sigh of relief, more like a scream, and you're quick to cover his mouth reminding him that your brother is supposed to be sleeping five meters away from you. Yet, you can't help but laugh at his reaction.

He presses your foreheads together as his hands caress your sides, from your knees, to your waist, and to your lower back. Both your thumbs stroke his cheeks gently before you move to place some smooches there, in each of Donghyuck's moles (that is all over his face.) You think of all the times you imagined doing exactly that and find it hard to believe there's a possibility you could have Donghyuck any time you want now.

You only have to talk it out and see how things could progress between the two of you in the future. In the meantime, you'll keep smooching the literal personification of the sun (that might be because he feels hot as fuck right now, or because his smile is bright as the sun, or maybe he could be both.)

(Still) Monday, 01:00 p.m.

Donghyuck has had his head over the clouds since last night. After a heavy make-out session with you and some cuddling, he went back to his shared bedroom to sleep at like four a.m., being the most quiet possible to not wake your brother up and maybe having him asking what the hell was Donghyuck doing with you in the living room until four in the morning. He can’t escape the knowing smile Mark gives him though, when he wakes up and sees Donghyuck already up and working at his desk.

Donghyuck pretends everything is normal, greeting Mark good morning as usual.

“Good morning, Melk.”

“You sound too happy,” Mark groans in response, still sitting on his bed only half awake.

Donghyuck checks the time on the corner of his computer; one p.m. during holidays is like eight a.m. to Mark. Your brother just sits there for a while and Donghyuck goes back to studying for amoment, until the silence of the room gets interrupted.

“Yo,” Mark calls to attract Donghyuck’s attention. “What you did last night was fucking nasty.”

“What–” Donghyuck tries asking, only to have Mark interrupting him.

“I heard you two going at it," he starts with a very serious expression that gets Donghyuck's blood completely drained from his face. What could've Mark possibly heard? "My sister was telling you to go slower and everything.'' Mark makes some gagging sounds to add to his point and Donghyuck grows as equally embarrassed and amused at your brother’s assumptions.

“You think we fucked?” Donghyuck asks in complete disbelief. An exaggerated nervous laugh follows the question. “With you in the house?” He points a finger at Mark.

“You didn’t?”

“Sorry to tell you what you heard was us playing Just Dance. The last choreo was too hard and y/n couldn’t follow it.”

Donghyuck watches his best friend rub the sleep off his eyes and get up from the bed while he denies with his head, looking kind of defeated. “You’re both the biggest losers I’ve ever known,” Mark says, referring to you and Donghyuck.

“Hey!” Donghyuck starts to defend himself, his eyes grow bigger as his brows go up, and the characteristic Donghyuck pout starts to show, like in every situation a discussion is involved. “It was fun! We had a good time, ask her.”

“Losers made for each other, I swear.” Mark emphasizes his point. “So you didn’t fuck.”

Donghyuck doesn't look up from his math notes to answer. There's no way in hell he's having this conversation looking at Mark in the face. “By now, I’m sure I might be a virgin again.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Mark can’t contain a laugh, though. “That’s bad for your health. Get your dick wet already.”

“I’m just waiting for the right time with your sister.”

“Hey! You can’t joke like that anymore.” Donghyuck knows by Mark’s tone all the bickering has become dead-serious now. It has always been like this when it’s about you. First they joke a little about it, then Donghyuck reminds Mark how much he truly likes you, and lastly Mark tells Donghyuck to just confess to you already because he’s tired of hearing about it. “If you’re joking about my sister I’m gonna beat you up.” Mark reminds him.

“Sorry.” This time, Donghyuck is brave enough to face his best friend. It’s kind of hard for Donghyuck to believe it when Mark tells him he’s getting beated up, though, when Mark’s wearing the pajamas Johnny got him as a gift recently–some blue panty with a moose on the back that says ‘don’t moose with me’. “I’m not joking about her.”

“I know.” Mark covers the pajamas that distract his friend so much as he puts on his jeans. “You like each other so much it’s disgusting.”

Donghyuck can’t hide his smile after hearing that, and it reminds him of all the kisses you shared last night, which makes him grow red in the face. Nothing a little more bickering with your brother can’t hide.

“You’re sooo cruel to me, Markie.” Donghyuck tries to hug Mark before he’s leaving the room, but morning Mark has always been like a stray cat who doesn’t like affection (unless it comes from Yuta, which Donghyuck can’t comprehend very well but he supposes the japanese has something pretty magnetic.)

“Get off of me!”

“Only a lil’ kiss, pleaaase!”

They struggle at the door of the room and into the common area. Donghyuck with his lips millimeters from Mark's face while Mark tries with all his might to get away from Donghyuck, who can be like a tick. They're so caught up in their things neither of them has noticed you're there, observing the entire interaction.

“Why don’t you go and kiss y/n? I’m sure she’ll enjoy it,” you hear Mark say when he finally frees himself from Donghyuck.

It’s at this moment that you know you are hearing too much, so you clear your throat to let them know that you are there too. They both freeze after turning around and seeing you sitting at the kitchen island. Your brother Mark, the great opportunist and master at escaping from uncomfortable situations, greets you good morning and is off to work in a second, leaving you and Donghyuck alone in the apartment.

You watch Donghyuck get closer to where you’re sitting. He hasn’t changed from his sleeping shorts and the hoodie he was wearing last night–the same hoodie you pulled on as you kissed in the same mattress laying meters behind him. Yet you don’t know how to describe the sensation you’re feeling right now. After seeing the boy you like the most fighting your brother for a kiss, your stomach feels… weird? You know the kind of relationship they have–they’re best friends, they bicker and fight and make up all the time. They live based on Donghyuck love-bombing Mark and Mark denying the affection all the time. But they love each other in a brotherly way, it has always been like that.

It’s not like you expected Donghyuck to want to hug and kiss you and only you after what happened last night, but you kind of did expect it.

Were you jealous of Donghyuck’s best friend, your own brother Mark?

Donghyuck looks at you confused when you don't accept his hug right away. You stop his arms midway, and his eyes look defeated, full of worry. “Did something happen?”

You deny with your head. “I don’t know, that kind of felt weird,” you confess to him.

Donghyuck caresses your arms, feeling you relax from the defensive attitude from before, until he gets your hands together. “What felt weird?”

It’s ridiculous, you know it is and you’re embarrassed about what you’re about to say. Yet, you can’t help but:

“I think I got jealous,” you say and watch his brows furrowed together. “You know, when you were trying to kiss Mark…”

Donghyuck only bursts out laughing and hugs you tightly against his chest, leaving you no time to escape the sudden affection. He smells like fabric softener and feels comfortable like a pillow. And you hate that you love the way his laugh resonates through your entire body when he presses you to himself like that.

“You know I never want to kiss Mark seriously, right? That I only do it ‘cause I know he hates it,” he explains once he’s separated from you, still holding your hands in his and looking you in the eyes. “I don’t want to kiss anyone the way I want to kiss you.”

You look down hiding your smile, thinking he’s cute at first and processing his words then, which makes you laugh a little. Donghyuck realizes right away and starts to laugh too, leaving the seriousness behind.

“Was that too much?” He asks.

You nod in response. “But it’s good to know.”

“Good,” he says before planting a kiss on your cheek. He’s only millimeters away from your face when he speaks again. “No need to be jealous then.”

Donghyuck turns you around on the chair, so your back is pressing against the island and he can stand comfortably between your legs. He starts as he did last night, planting a kiss on your knuckles, then your wrist, but you don’t wanna waste any more time so you free yourself from his hands and start cradling his face. His lips look as tempting as always, maybe even more after you tasted them for the first time.

He notices your look so he gives you a lopsided, attractive smile that you desperately wanna rip off his face.

“How can you look this handsome in the morning?” You ask, admiring all his features.

“I mean, technically it’s past the morning.” he answers in a cocky tone.

“Shut up already.”

You don’t give him time to fight back as you’re sealing his lips with a kiss. It’s slow but deep, and his skin feels warm and soft under your fingertips, all the way from his sharp jaw to his cheekbones. When he bites your lip a little bit to get full access to your mouth, you worry about the breakfast you were having minutes ago, but Donghyuck doesn’t seem to mind:

“Mhmm,” he hums, breaking apart and licking his lips. “You taste like maple syrup.” And he steals another quick kiss from you.

“Yeah,” you say as you turn around to face the kitchen island again. “‘Cause you interrupted my breakfast.”

But despite you showing your back to him and trying to finish your food, Donghyuck won’t let you eat in peace. “Oh yeah,” he murmurs against the skin of your neck after he moves your hair to your left shoulder. He plants a soft kiss on your right side, sending shivers down your spine and making it hard to concentrate on your task. “I’m sooo sorry I interrupted you.” His tone is full of sarcasm as his kisses travel to your jaw and all the way down again. “And you hated it sooo much.”

The metallic sound of your fork falling off your hand and hitting the plate startles the both of you. Donghyuck stops sucking on your neck and you fall out of your trance. Your startled face might be somewhat funny, because Donghyuck starts giggling as you both realize you were enjoying his kisses a little too much.

“Let’s go on a date.”

“All of a sudden?”

He nods with a smile on his face. “It’s your last day here tomorrow. It’s not like we won’t see each other anymore but… I want to take you out before your last day here.”

“Okay,” you agree, matching his smile.

“Okay?” He asks once more and sighs contentedly when you nod your head yes. “I’ll go plan everything. Make sure you’re all mine this afternoon!” And he leaves the room after kissing your right cheek.

(The busiest) Monday, 07:37 p.m.

“Hyuck, come on, there’s seriously no way of winning with those machines.”

“Babe, just one more try. I wanna get something for you.”

Donghyuck has been fighting against a claw machine for what felt like half an hour now. Since none of you weren’t able to win any of the games you tried at the carnival, you really appreciate his determination to win a prize for you this way. Yet you arrived here at five p.m., and after two rounds of bumper cars, after testing your strength at Ring the Bell (and both of you failing embarrassingly), riding the teacups, getting scared to death in the haunted house, and going twice into the Ferris wheel (one time for the sightseeing and pics and another time for kissing at the top of it) your stomach growls with hunger.

“We could’ve paid dinner with all the money you spent on this machine-”

“Wait, I’m about to get it!”

“Let’s just go get dinner.”

“But I’m about to get it!”

And you see it forreal this time: the claw holding a big Pochacco plushie and it falling right into the hole.

“Hyuck, you got it!” You scream in disbelief, a big smile taking over your face (maybe because of the cute plushie or maybe because it meant you were finally going to have some food.)

You watch Donghyuck lose his arm through the hatch and get it back, this time with the stuffed animal in his hand. When he’s presenting it in front of you, the stuffed animal is so big that it blocks your view. You admire it for a second, and then take it into your arms to discover a Donghyuck wearing the biggest smile you've seen in a while. He’s all cozied up, his jacket and stuffed hat making him look like a real life teddy bear. Even so, the cold of the winter has caused the tip of his nose and his cheeks to turn red, somehow making him look even cuter.

“I got it for you!” He says, the excitement not leaving his body even for a second.

You can’t contain yourself and, as an impulse, grab him from the jacket with your free hand and pull forward until your lips are meeting his. Just a short peck as a way of saying thank you, I love it (you.)

Neither of you realizes the little crowd you've drawn around the machines, not until you hear the applause and cheering as you're breaking away from your kiss. You’ve never seen Donghyuck get shy when drawing people’s attention, so this might be your first time noticing him trying to hide under his hat and into your embrace. You laugh it off even when you're equally embarrassed, but thank him for the plushie and tell him to run away from there to get dinner.

—

“I think I’ve liked you from the start,” Donghyuck confesses all of a sudden.

Well, maybe not so all of a sudden. While you two were having your dinner, bottle of beer came after bottle of beer. At some point of the night, you thought it was a good idea to start having soju. Donghyuck said something like “it’s our last night together, we should celebrate and get wasted” to justify your decision. So it may be the full stomachs and the alcohol making you be honest with each other.

“I know I’ve liked you from the start.”

“Aaall the guys knew too…” He slurs his words a little when speaking. “I wouldn't shut up about you.”

You can't hide your drunken, enamored smile when hearing him. But something makes a little noise inside your head. “All the guys knew?” You ask and he nods quickly. “Even Mark?”

“Even Mark,” Donghyuck confirms. “I mean, we always kind of had this joke going around that I was always waiting for you.” He pours himself another drink. “But we both knew it wasn't a joke.”

“Oh god.” You cover your face, embarrassed. “My own brother lied to me,” you say and Donghyuck makes a confused sound, which makes you keep explaining. “He pretended to know nothing about your feelings when I confessed to him that I liked you.”

“I asked him not to say anything.”

“Huh?”

“I wanted to tell you myself how much I like you.”

“Oh god,” it's all you can repeat right now, all these confessions and the alcohol making you grow hot everywhere. “It's so hot inside this restaurant,” you say as you take your jacket off.

Donghyuck knows the red on your cheeks isn't only because of the heat inside the place.

“I like you sooo much,” he says as he watches you giggle out of nervousness. Donghyuck calls your name and holds your hand over the table to try to get you to look at him, but you only giggle and hide your face with your other hand. “I'm in love with you!”

“Okay, okay!” You're laughing by now, trying to cover his mouth to shut him up and not attract everyone's attention like you did at the carnival. “I'm in love with you too!”

“Good,” he says with an extremely pleased smile, that one that has always attracted you to him so much.

“Good?” you repeat and he nods.

Your phone screen lights up showing it's Mark calling you. You silently tell Donghyuck you're picking up and he lets go of your hand for you to do so.

“Yes?”

“Yo,” you hear Mark answer from the other side. “We're at Yuta's right now, we're working on some music with Taeil and TY so I think I'm just gonna crash here tonight.”

“Uhm, are you sure you don't wanna go back?” You ask and make eye contact with Donghyuck, who narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side after your question. You only shrug to him as a response.

“Nah, I'll leave the apartment for the two of you so make good use of it.” Your brother answers convincingly.

“Okay, I'll see you in the morning.”

“All right bet, see you in the morning.” And he's quick to hang up.

You take the phone off your ear and look at it confused for a bit, until Donghyuck breaks the silence. “Everything all right with Mark?”

“Yeah,” you say as you put the phone down. “He said he's not going back home tonight.”

“Oh.”

You think of the words your brother said. “Leaving the apartment for the two of you,” and “making good use of it,” and it hits you. A little bit late, but it hits you.

“Oh…” you repeat, a surprised expression now taking over your face.

“Yeah, oh!” Donghyuck agrees. “We're having a real sleepover tonight!”

But by the excitement in Donghyuck's face, the one a little kid would show when told he's sleeping at a friend's, you aren't convinced he thought the same way you and Mark did.

(The last day at your brother's) Tuesday, 09:12 a.m.

The next morning, you wake up pretty confused. When you open your eyes, you're not sleeping at your usual spot. Your surroundings look very different from the living room where you've been sleeping every night. To your right, you spot Donghyuck's desk, filled with physics books, a pile of comics, and the typical empty Red Bull cans. The mattress also feels incredibly comfortable, soft but firm under you. But the most strange thing is the weight over your body, and a cologne you know very well and like very much flooding your senses. That's when you realize Donghyuck is laying all over you, stretched like a starfish.

You laugh and struggle to take your arms under him, and when you wrap them around the boy over you and squeeze, he starts to laugh too.

"Are the curtains open?" You ask in a voice still full of sleep.

He moves his head up to catch the smile on your face. "No?"

"Then why is the sun so bright in my face?"

The smile spreads on his face and he plants a chaste kiss on your lips. "You're so fucking cheesy." And he kisses you again.

“Get off,” you try to move him from over your face and your body. “I haven’t washed my mouth.”

“I don’t care,” he says, finally moving and sitting at the side of his bed, where you’re still laying in. “I’m not missing a chance to kiss you.”

“You’re sooo fucking cheesy,” you repeat his words.

“And you like me sooo much.” Donghyuck moves to the nightstand and grabs an aspirin and a can of Red Bull and brings them to your mouth. “Take, it’ll make you feel better after all we had last night.”

You sit up a little on the bed to do what he told you, and once you've swallowed the aspirin you let yourself fall back against his pillow. Donghyuck is still sitting on the edge of the bed, exchanging glances with you and holding your hand lovingly. He's wearing the Michael Jackson t-shirt that he likes so much and he's wearing his messy hair, just as you left it after pulling, fixing and messing it up while you kissed him countless times the night before.

You’re leaving today, and it’s like all the feelings you’ve accumulated these past years are hitting right now, all at once.

“I wish I could wake up like this everyday.”

“Hungover?”

“No, not hungover,” you laugh at his question. “With you.”

He smiles and squeezes your hand reassuringly. “We’ll figure it out.”

You sit up in the bed and search for the energy drink on the nightstand. After a few drinks, you’ve figured the morning breath can’t be so bad, so you move to face him properly and grab his face for a real kiss. Donghyuck doesn’t take long to reciprocate and start caressing your entire body. He’s always the first one to take the kisses to other places, so you take the lead this time. You discovered last night that Donghyuck can’t resist the kisses on his neck. You start placing soft kisses, then some licks until you suck a little and he fails to suppress a moan. He laughs it off and calls your name.

“I want to ask something important,” he says, looking you dead-serious in the eyes now, all the jokes and the desire aside. After you nod in response, telling he has your attention, he takes a big breath of courage. “It may seem a little rushed, but after all we’ve shared these years and after this week we’ve spent together, I don’t want you to leave without asking you to go out with me.”

You feel the temperature increase throughout your skin. Is he finally asking you to…

“Be my girlfriend?” As if he knew you from inside and out, he finishes your thoughts out loud.

Temperature reaches your face as well as probably the biggest smile you’ve worn since you got here. You cradle his face, squeeze his cheeks with your hands until a pout is showing and you can’t help but laugh—out of nervousness but also out of happiness, from having the sun in your hands and all for yourself.

“Lee Donghyuck,” you start. “That’d make me the happiest in the world, in the universe.”

“You’re sooo cheesy!” He starts the bickering once again, yet he’s sealing your deal with a kiss on your smile and, of course, you’re returning the affection.

(Later that) Tuesday, 03:30 p.m.

You’re standing in the building’s hallway while your brother struggles to lock the door to the 12-7 apartment. Donghyuck is patiently holding your suitcase, waiting for Mark to be done. They’re going to accompany you to the bus stop that’s coming at four p.m. so you can finally go home to the rest of your family and your normal life—you’ll be back studying and working in a few days, after spending Christmas with the family and Donghyuck, who promised to be there to join the Christmas lunch at your home and—maybe, if he doesn’t chicken out—present himself as your boyfriend to your parents.

“We need to change the door lock before y/n moves in here,” Mark says after finally locking it.

“What?” Donghyuck and you ask in unison. “Moving here?”

“You’re not moving in with Donghyuck? I thought I’d finally be free from him,” your brother answers, kind of disappointed, but not as disappointed as Donghyuck after noticing how bad your brother wants him out.

“But where will you go?” You ask him.

“I made plans to share the floor with Yuta.”

“That motherfucking japanese!” Donghyuck screams following Mark down the hallway, and you palm his back trying to reassure him, but your boyfriend won’t calm down. “I swear he wants to steal my best friend from me! He’s so jealous of my life!”

“What would he be jealous of, Donghyuck?” Your brother asks tiredly, and you know he’s rolling his eyes even if all you see is his back opening the building’s front door.

“Of our last-longing, incredibly unique friendship, of-fucking-course!” Donghyuck answers like it’s obvious.

“I’m pretty sure you just kept this friendship to get with my sister.”

“Mark?! That’s not true. I love you, man. Mark-Mark, come on!”

taglist: @matchahyuck @sundamariis @thesunsfullmoon @babyjenono @chenfleur @bettyschwallocksyee @sundhaelatte @injunier @justalildumpling @lanadreamie @dhyucktopia @143rachafm @minkyuncutie @bbh-kji @minhosprettywife

#haechan #haechan x reader #nct fanfic #donghyuck x reader #haechan fluff #lee donghyuck x reader #zh-lele

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willowser · 10 months

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bakugou + strawberries ; 2.7k ੈ‧₊˚ for our meet fruit collab ! ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚

mina suggests speed-dating.

first as a joke — you think — after the two of you spend too many weekends in a row watching sappy rom-coms on her couch while crying into a bowl of trail mix, and then a second time, and then a third time, after you refuse.

in her last attempt, she pulls out the big ones: her upcoming birthday. it will be so fun!! she tells you, with her big eyes and bigger pout, looking at you as if you'd hung the stars by saying yes. it's a cheap shot, really, because she knows you or anyone would do pretty much anything when it comes to mina the birthday girl.

— and that's how you find yourself here, sitting in too nice of an outfit to be spending your allotted time listening to a man bash his ex-girlfriend.

you might have found him a bit cuter if he wasn't doing that, or if he showed even an ounce of interest in you whatsoever. instead, he's treating this like a therapy session, and you're not getting paid for it.

when the timer rings, you're more than thankful. irritated enough, even, to spin around the room in search of mina — who is happily watching on as two men grapple with each other for who gets to sit across from her next. you suppose being a top hero is good for that, finding someone who is willing to give you their all.

to yourself, you sigh quietly and turn back to the little bowl of strawberries in the center of the small table, the flutes of champagne on either side of it. mina's bottle, you noticed, is almost totally empty; your last date hadn't even looked at yours, nor did he seem to think to offer you a drink.

it's not that you're jealous. really. you wouldn't even say that you're interested in dating right now, finding your job at the agency to be too much of a whirlwind to balance, anyway. you love mina: she's your closest friend, your home away from home, your cheerleader and personal hero — but working for her is nothing short of a full-time job.

sometimes your bed is a little lonely, when she's not staying the night in it after another rom-com evening, but you really can't think that you'd like someone in it, anyway, much less a stranger. it's hard to explain where your time goes, who it goes with; having to share that with someone, you think, would take more emotional energy than you have right now.

and maybe it also sorta, kinda has to do with the fact that the one and only man you're thinking of outside of work — is the same man you see inside of it every single day.

the very thought of bakugou has your stomach turning, painfully. the image of him in the late afternoons with the sun glowing in his hair, the gentle look he spares you as you wait for the elevator, how he'd looked at you today, when you told him where you and mina were going; you don't know how anyone could make you feel the way he does, at least right now.

the seat across from you is taken up suddenly, then, and you look up into the eyes of someone that looks — nice. a little shy, a little nervous, as they introduce themselves. they decide to pour you a glass of champagne, and they even tell you, openly, voice shaking, how nice you look tonight.

you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt, much to your own surprise.

"i'm actually allergic to strawberries," they tell you with a laugh, gently pushing the bowl closer to you. "that would be a hell of a first date, wouldn't it?"

you agree. "definitely one to remember!"

"well, in that case—" they joke, suddenly leaning forward as if they're going to pull it back towards them, and it's so earnest and sweet that you feel your heartbeat in your throat a bit. "i sound like i'm kissing up to you, but—you have a really nice smile, also."

you have to sit back in your seat, fanning your face dramatically as you both laugh. "wow, i'm not used to someone—"

"time's up, extra."

you blink so hard that your eyes are crossed when you open them, and you look up at the man standing there, waiting for his turn, just as the timer dings and the room comes to life with a bustle. the person across from you only frowns, too timid to say anything in response before they're getting up and casting you a regretful glance. they're barely a foot away before the chair is taken, so aggressively that it scrapes against the floor and shakes the table.

you can't believe what you're seeing. you can't believe bakugou is sitting across from you, right now, ruining everything.

"what—are you doing?" you hiss, though your feelings — with a mind of their own — flutter like butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him.

the scowl he gives you is ugly, as always, but his face is smoother than you remember it being today; freshly shaven, maybe. the cologne he's wearing is strong, woodsy, potent enough that it dizzies you from across the table, that you can only imagine how sweet it smells soaking into the soft skin of his neck. even the shirt he's wearing, you notice, is a button down that you've never seen him in.

"the hell do you mean?" he growls, face pinched as he leans closer, so that his voice doesn't carry as it usually does. "'s'it look like i'm doin'? saving you from some sorry dumbass."

"bakugou," you grit, though the room quiets as everyone takes their seats again, and you have to swallow back your annoyance so you don't draw anymore attention to yourself.

you're not dumb enough to think he'd get away without some people fighting for his attention, too, the same way they did to mina, and — as irritated as you are, suddenly, at his appearance — you're not exactly keen on sharing him, either.

"they were very nice, thank you very much,"

"psh," he rolls his eyes, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "couldn't even look me in the eyes to tell me to fuck off—"

"maybe because they were worried you would blast them through the window—"

"and i would have—"

"oh!" you clench your hands into fists and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will your anger back down. losing your cool isn't a good look, especially in a room of people that are trying to get to know you. "are you serious right now? why are you here?"

"you really wanna spend our five minutes doin' this?"

and there's something about the way he says it — our five minutes — that has your stomach turning in that horrible way it always does, whenever you bite into the softer parts of him. the look on his face is pensive, nervous if you thought that he was capable of being nervous. his shirt, his shaven cheeks, his alluring cologne; he's here, right now, on a date with you. pushed his way into it, even.

you straighten in your seat and sit back, dropping your eyes to the table, ashamed at the fire you've just thrown at him. "can you at least tell me why you're here in the first place?"

bakugou is silent for long enough that you can't stand not to take him in, how appealing he is to look at, how your heart sings when he looks back. one shake of his head has him sighing and then he's leaning back, too, staring only at the strawberries.

"this is her birthday thing, ain't it?"

"yeah," you murmur in agreement quietly, fiddling with your own fingers in your lap as your nerves harden into bitter disappointment. he's here for the same reasons you are, you tell yourself: for your friend, only.

distantly, you try to remind yourself that this nothing out of the ordinary. that you shouldn't be thinking of him this way, getting so hung-up on someone that's never expressed an interest in you to begin with. there have been a few late night conversations in the stairwell, that ran longer than they should have, that revealed more than they should have — but it doesn't make him yours. not in the way you want it to.

in an attempt to swallow down your own sourness, you reach for a strawberry, picking through them until you find the fattest one, and then bite it to the stem. a little stream of juice sprays out, dripping down over your bottom lip as you scramble for your napkin. you lick after it before patting at your face, spreading the sugar, the sweetness.

bakugou leans across the table so suddenly that you startle, mouth twisted like he's struggling to say what he's about to say. "alright, look—"

the timer rings, horribly, but his ruby stare never dims, never leaves yours and yours never leaves his, either, as if you're both suddenly trapped in a weird limbo of in-between; in-between the quiet moments, in-between the loudest ones, in-between everyone else, together.

and then mina notices.

"oh my god, blasty, you came!" she shouts, springing up from her seat to wave at you both from across the room. her earrings jingle loudly, bracelet beads knocking together as she leans too far to the left, champagne-drunk already. it snaps the moment between you and him, worry filling the gaps as you think about how you're going to get her out of here, once the night is over.

bakugou sinks a little further into his chair, as if it will hide him, before grumbling to himself. cheeks reddening, you realize; strawberry-kissed. he heaves a heavy sigh before digging his fingers into his eyes, deep enough that an ache develops in your own, and he opens his mouth to speak again when someone else approaches the table.

"okay, time to switcheroo!" he sings, grinning too cheerily at you, enough to make you laugh at his enthusiasm.

it darkens bakugou, considerably; "piss off," is all he says, scooting his chair further into the table as if to claim it. he barely gets another word out before the man is starting to protest, and the look he gives him then is awfully viscious: nostrils flared, looking up from beneath his long lashes and furrowed brow, as if this stranger had pissed in your champagne. "i said, fuck off, before i howitzer you through the—"

"okay!" you interrupt, reaching across the table with both hands to close one of bakugou's. his fingers are curled dangerously, and you swear you can see little sizzles of steam slipping between your linked fingers. "let's just—do an extra skip this time, okay? how about you just gives us this one, and you go to the next table?"

the man frowns — which is a bit flattering — but ultimately takes the lifeline you offer, trailing away without another word down to the next table. you can feel the couple on the other side watching you and bakugou now, a little open-mouthed, and your heart quickens at the worry that they're noticing him, that your new five minutes are going to be wasted, too.

—but his hand hasn't moved from yours and his eyes have returned, full to the brim with some emotion you can't read. if you had to guess, you'd say regret, maybe, but you aren't sure how to take that, and so you don't.

you should let him go, literally and figuratively, but the solidity of your logic is no match for the soft beat of butterfly wings in your gut.

"what are you doing?" you ask him again, softly, surely, because you want to hear the answer whatever it is. he either needs to deny you, here and now so you can move on — or he needs to acknowledge the confliction on his face, the soft intertwine of his fingers into yours.

bakugou looks at you now the way he does in the stairwell, the way he does when the sun is painting you warm, too. "i told you," he murmurs, "savin' you from some dumbass."

"but why do you even care?"

another heavy sigh falls from him and you can feel your glass-fragile heart breaking when his hand slips from yours, a little roughly. it surprises you when he grabs the champagne bottle from the center of the table and pours himself a small glass, downing it in one, bitter go before filling up your flute, too.

liquid confidence, maybe; his cheeks darken, noticeably, before he's running a rough hand over his face, still struggling to wash out the words.

"why the hell do you think?" he finally says, though his harsh question lacks the abrasive tone his voice usually has; instead it's gentler, more sincere, bakugou — katsuki — in his rawest form. "why d'you think i do—any of this shit?" one hand waves around to gesture to the span of the dining room, but you know he means more than that, much more. "you think i spend that much time after work just 'cause i have time to waste? jesus."

"i don't know," you say, earning a flat look. "why do you?"

"why do you?"

you take the glass from the center of the table and peer down into it, how it bubbles. maybe you're playing dumb and maybe that's what's really bothering him, but — someone like bakugou deals in absolutes, and you need him to do it now.

the struggle is clear, though, across his face, thickening how he swallows and turning down his lips that much more. you feel a bit bad in the silence, when the timer rings and the muscle in his cheek jumps again.

before anyone can even approach the table, he simply sticks his hand out, and the man beside you was definitely watching on, because he doesn't spare you a glance before going around.

and maybe, you think, decidedly, that's enough.

"because i don't want to go home yet," you tell him honestly, trying to ignore the blood rushing in your ears with his mouth twists and he starts to squirm at your truth. "because i'd rather spend the night with you in a stairwell, than anywhere else."

there's a ludicrous amount of tension that leaves his shoulders then, so much that you didn't notice it until it was gone, and he slumps back into his chair with pink ears, now. the sight makes you smile, widely, as if the sight is a confirmation.

maybe for him, it is.

"yeah, well," he grumbles, eyes dropping to the strawberries before darting away, as if he'd thought of something he shouldn't have. "that's what 'm sayin', too."

"no, you're not!" you laugh, nose crinkling when he side-eyes you with a frown. "you're not hardly saying anything!"

"i'm here, ain't i?" he argues, huffing like a bull. "makin' a damn idiot of myself just to stop you from—"

"—going home with some dumbass?"

"well, yeah!"

"so you want me to be going home with you, then?"

"yeah! no! i mean—" he scowls when you laugh again, lip pulling up over his teeth as if he means to bite into your softest parts, too. the thought is more thrilling that you're willing to admit — at least for now. "quit laughin'!"

but it's not just you; across the dining room, you realize mina's giggling, too, turned around in her seat, ignoring the chatty man that wouldn't shut up about his ex. when bakugou turns around to glare at her, she nearly tips out of her chair by throwing her head too far back, and when he moves to stand up like he needs to help her, all she does is wave at him to turn back around.

and he does, to you, cheeks flaring as he grabs the bottle of champagne again, pouring himself his own glass to glare into. he mutters out another quiet, "jesus" before slamming both his elbows on the table, rudely, and holding his glass up for — what you belatedly realize is — a cheers.

behind him, the afternoon sun has long since set, replaced now by nightfall and stars that shine through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows — but he glows regardless, and the look he gives you is just as warm.

#IT'S DONE I'M FREEEEEEE #literally i wrote both of these TODAY my brain is WORN OUT #somebody never let me wait this long again LMAOOOO #sorry that these are both dog water !!! :) i have no one to blame but myself !!!! :)#but it's DONE WEEEEEEE #WAAAAHH nikuniku gave me the idea of speed dating with bakugou 😭 where he just — absolutely refuses to play LOL #cuuuteeee #will edit in the morning brain sleepy.....#✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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First Mother's Day

Summary: Steve and Bucky want to give you the perfect Mother's Day.

Pairings: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Woodworker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 2.2k Warnings: Fluff, established relationships, slight insecurities, parenthood, pet names, canon divergent, feels (it's me), Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes (yep, they are warnings) A/N: Happy Mother's Day from our Into the Woods boys.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics. Bucky edit by Nix. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Beefcake and Tippy

When Steve asked what you wanted for your first Mother’s Day, you didn’t have an answer for him. After a few seconds of silence and an eyebrow raise, you said you didn’t want anything. A touch of sadness filled the former Captain’s blue eyes when he asked you why. You shrugged a little. That answer wasn’t good enough for him.

Truthfully, you weren’t sure what to say. You knew he wanted to make the day special for you, but wasn’t it just another day? Peanut would be too young to remember it. Then again, you and Steve would be able to keep the memories close to your hearts. But it felt selfish to ask for anything, even if the day was meant to be about you.

And wasn’t that part of being a mom, willing to give, but not wanting to ask for anything in return?

“Steve, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something for me,” you said, even if a small part of you wanted him to.

“It’s your day. I have to do something.”

“What did I just say? You don’t have to do anything,” you argued.

“Wrong choice of words,” he said, pulling you close. “I want to. Please.”

While some likely expected Steve to want a more “traditional” wife and mother to his kids, thanks to when he was born, he was a hands-on dad. Expecting you to do everything was unrealistic and unfair in his eyes. He invested time and energy into raising his child and made sure to balance responsibilities. Not only that, he took the time to acknowledge your hard work as you balanced writing and motherhood. You consider yourself lucky to have Steve as a partner and father to your son.

He makes me feel seen and appreciated.

Maybe it was the pleading look in his eyes that got to you. Or the slight pout on his handsome face. You didn’t want much. You really didn’t. So was it really selfish to ask?

“Okay. You know what I want?” you asked, not giving him a chance to respond. “I want to sleep in a little. I want breakfast in bed and I don’t care if that’s cliche. I want an uninterrupted nap in the afternoon with a warm blanket. And I want to watch a cheesy rom-com before bed with buttered popcorn.”

“From that shop in the city?” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Yes, that one,” you smiled back. “With extra butter.”

“And that’s it?” he questioned, making sure you weren’t leaving anything out.

“That’s it,” you replied. “A simple, quiet day with the two of you. I don’t think that’s asking for too much and it’ll make me happy. My day, my rules, right?”

Steve chuckled and nodded. “Whatever you say.”

When Sunday rolled around, you didn’t wake up to the sound of Steve’s alarm like you expected. Instead, you opened your eyes to the sight of him carrying a tray with a delicious smelling breakfast. He smiled gently as he waited for you to sit up and stretch before he set the food down. He was dressed for the day, a red plaid shirt stretched across his broad chest. Handsome as ever and you probably looked like the walking dead rising from your slumber.

And Peanut was close by in the pack ‘n play, sound asleep. You noticed his onesie matched Steve’s shirt. A mini-me in the making and you couldn’t be happier.

“Good morning,” Steve said, sitting on the bed. “Already fed and changed him so you could sleep in.”

First thing on my list.

“Thank you, Steve,” you smiled, your stomach grumbling as you looked over the large breakfast. Second thing on my list. “I may be hungry, but you know you’ll have to help me eat this, right?”

“That was the plan,” he teased, uncaring of your morning breath as he leaned over to kiss you. “Would you like your present before or after breakfast?”

“You got me a present?” you asked, shaking your head as he leaned down and pulled out a large package from under the bed. “Okay, I have to open it now. How did you manage to hide that from me?”

“Because you didn’t look under the bed,” he winked, moving the tray so you could take the gift. “Thank god you didn’t because we both know I’m a terrible liar and I would’ve told you immediately what was inside.”

True.

You almost felt bad ruining the pretty wrapping paper, but you felt giddy with anticipation as you opened the box, especially since you hadn’t expected anything. Your smile widened when you saw the large bag of buttered popcorn from your favorite shop that sat on top of a soft blanket. Beside it sat a framed photo of you holding your son the day he was finally home.

“For your uninterrupted nap this afternoon and for our rom-com movie tonight,” he smiled. Third and fourth items on my list. “I thought the photo would be nice for your desk.”

The day the hospital released your son was one of the happiest days of your life. He carried so much strength in his tiny body, a reminder that hope and resilience came in all shapes and sizes. The heart of a warrior and the light of your life.

“These are wonderful. Thank you,” you said, pointing at one more small box. “But what’s this?”

“Something I had Jewel make,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed nervous about this one. “I, um, hope you like it.”

You gasped when you opened the box. Bucky’s wife was a gifted jewelry maker and she had once again outdone herself. A sparkling ring with three stones shined up at you, immediately recognizing that they represented birthstones for you, Steve, and Peanut. As you took out the ring with tearful eyes, you caught a small inscription inside the band.

Faith. Hope. Love.

“Happy Mother's Day,” Steve whispered, taking the ring and slipping it onto your right ring finger. “And here’s to many more.”

A tear fell as you framed his face to kiss him. Not only did he give you exactly what you asked for, but he went above and beyond to make you feel special. The way he did each day with faith, hope, and love.

But the greatest of these is love.

Hunk and Jewel

You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out how nervous Bucky was for your first Mother’s Day. He circled the day on the calendar with a lopsided heart and a question mark in the space. You also caught him reading an article on unique gifts, which you pretended not to see. You could’ve dropped hints here and there for him if you wished, but there wasn’t anything specific that you wanted.

You did your own research and found that some moms wanted space on Mother’s Day, like a spa or pampering day. Others liked homemade and sentimental gifts. A general consensus was that they didn’t want to do any work. Bucky already handled more than his share of chores though when it came to your home and daughter and you knew he wouldn’t let you lift a finger when that Sunday arrived.

Could you ask for anything more?

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked your daughter as he paced around the room, cuddling her against his chest. “She made Tippy a ring. A ring. How do I even top that? Not that it’s a competition. It’s not.”

You covered your mouth so you wouldn’t laugh. It was almost endearing how he had the tendency to overthink when it came to gifts for you. You assured him that no matter what he decided to get you, for whatever occasion, that you’d love it. A small bouquet of flowers would've satisfied you.

“You know I love your mama, right? Love you both so much,” he continued, kissing the top of her head. “I just want her to feel special. She works so hard and she puts up with me.”

I adore him.

Jellybean giggled as she tugged on her dad’s hair, your heart melting at the sight. Your baby girl loved you, there was no doubt about that, but she was also very much a daddy’s girl. Not that you blamed her. Bucky was a loving, protective father, always there to soothe and care for her. He’d always have a special place in her heart.

“We love you, too,” you said, finally letting out a laugh when he turned with wide eyes and saw you in the doorway. “Your super soldier senses didn’t pick up on me standing here?”

“And I thought I had stealth,” he mumbled with a small smile. “You know how I get when it comes to your gifts.”

“I do, but I don’t understand why you do, Jamie. You have nothing to worry about,” you said, smiling when you saw how content your daughter was in his arms. “I’m sure you already have a special engraved stone for me,” you pointed out, something to carry on the tradition he created. You kept the small growing collection in a jeweled box and looked forward to getting them for each holiday and special day.

“But you’re expecting that and I want to surprise you,” he said, sighing before Jellybean giggled again. “I think she’s laughing at me.”

“Oh, she is,” you teased, rubbing her back. You weren’t a perfect mother, but she was a happy, healthy baby and that was what mattered to you. “Do you remember the first time we heard her giggle? It was such a happy sound. I wish I knew what went on in her mind when she did that.”

Bucky gave you a thoughtful stare, like something clicked in his mind. “I remember,” he said, gently putting your daughter in your arms. “I need to make a call.”

“Okay,” you said, watching as he rushed out of the room. “I think your dada got an idea.”

You were right.

Bucky was much more relaxed after that afternoon. You had to admit, you were curious about what gift he had in mind. You went through a list of things in your mind before you decided not to dwell on it. As much as you wanted to ask for hints, you didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

That day you woke up to a bouquet of your favorite flowers on the nightstand. Beside it was a smaller vase with a single flower. The scent brought a smile to your face as you sat up. They were beautiful.

“She picked the flowers and chose the prettiest one for her vase” Bucky smiled, carrying your daughter with one hand and balancing a gift in the other. “We have breakfast waiting for you, but she wants you to open your gift first.”

Liar.

“Of course she did. She has good taste,” you smiled, booping her on the nose as Bucky sat her down on the bed.

Bucky gazed at you expectantly as you unwrapped the present. As expected, a heart shaped rock engraved with “Mother” awaited you on top. Fitting for a mother of pearl stone. Beneath it was a wooden bath tray that you knew Bucky made himself.

“It has room for a book or tablet, your phone, a place for your wine glass, and it extends if you want to add more stuff,” he explained, kissing your forehead. “You deserve to relax.”

I don’t deserve him.

“Beautiful and thoughtful,” you smiled, making Bucky smile in return. He knew how much you liked to relax whenever you could. “Thank you.”

“There’s one more thing,” he said, urging you to look under the tray.

“A book?” you asked, picking it up to look at the cover.

Mama, I Love You!

“That call I made? I got some help from Tippy,” he explained, clearing his throat. “So you know what's on Jellybean's mind."

You were almost afraid to open it because you knew you’d cry. Tippy was extremely talented, her words drawing a range of emotions from the reader. And with help from Bucky, you knew this one was extra special.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You sniffled as you opened it and turned the pages. Each page had a date, drawings of the three of you, or message of love and memories. From the day you found out you were pregnant, to the day you brought your daughter home, to her first smile, and more. It was as if Jellybean was telling you the story of her life with you so far. And letting you know that you were doing the best that you could.

By the time you got to the last page, you openly sobbed.

“Thank you for loving me, Mama.”

This was one of the reasons you loved Bucky. Jellybean couldn’t tell you through words yet how she felt being your daughter, so her father did so. At the end of the day, you wanted to be the best mother for her. This gift would help ease your insecurities if you ever doubted yourself.

“Thank you for loving us,” Bucky whispered, wiping away your tears with a tender touch before he kissed you. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

Thank you both for loving me.

I think Tippy and Jewel having a hand in the gifts make them extra special. I also know this day isn't easy for many and my heart goes out to each of you lovelies. Happy Mother's Day. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

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benedictscanvas · 11 months

Text

pick me up at seven - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k (they won't all be this long i don't think!!)

warnings: language of course, and this is a little steamy but with no actual smut. my favourite genre HA

request: I can’t find any good Roy fics until your recent one and I’m dying for more 😭 Anyway you could write something else for him? Maybe they’re at a bar and he gets pissed when he sees Jamie flirting w her? (Not a pre established relationship) - @kashee-h

a/n: your wish is my demand!! i'm so happy you enjoyed the first roy fic of what i hope are many to come. this one totally got away from me, i loved writing it so so much, thanks for a request that I really got to make my own! <3

---

Roy is the one who’s invited you here. Roy is the one who trekked over to your office at the end of the working day and told you that everyone was going out that evening. Roy is the one who suggested you come, even when you seemed reluctant to join in on what appeared to be an evening for just the players and the coaches. Roy is the one who convinced you that it would be fun, that he’d make sure of it.

All of this is making it very hard for Roy to accept that you are currently sat in a corner booth with someone else. The fact that the person you seemed to be having such an in depth conversation with was Jamie fucking Tartt was the icing on a very shit cake.

He knew he could be having a better night than just sitting on a barstool trying not to watch the two of you, especially when Ted and Beard arrived to get the next round and he didn’t even acknowledge them. They’d hired out a private room, so it was filled with people he generally tolerated the company, some he’d even go as far as to say that he liked. None of that was registering, however.

Jamie leans in when you can’t hear something he’s said and he watches you nod solemnly, duck your head to stare at the floor as if flustered, and he wants to walk right out that door and never come back. Maybe he could get a job at Chelsea, or something.

“Now, what’s wrong, Jeremy Strong?” Ted asks, and Roy has to bite back a ‘fuck off’ so hard he wonders if his lip is bleeding, “You look just about ready to start wreckin’ the place.”

Out of the corner of Roy’s eye, he sees Beard lean in to whisper in Ted’s ear and points over at you. Ted looks surprised. Roy does not want to deal with this.

“You’re telling’ me our very own Mr Kent has his eyes on our very own Miss Y/L/N? Well, that’s just great! She’s sweet as anythin’, good for you, Roy.”

“She’s sweet on Jamie fucking Tartt, more like,” he says, even though he knows he’s being so fucking unfair. He hates it about himself. He knows how hard he’s worked on these feelings, on frustration and anger and jealousy, knows that a few years ago he’d be getting ready to fight Jamie down an alley further through tonight. Now he’s done that work, however, he can recognise the overriding feeling that he’s actually just hurt and that’s so much worse. It’s much easier to be jealous than upset.

“Does this call for an impromptu meeting of the Diamond Dogs?” Ted asks brightly and Roy is only able to stop him after his second howl. Higgins has looked over briefly but Beard signals him to stay where he is.

“Fuck no,” Roy blurts out, then reconsiders. Maybe he could at least talk to Ted, “I just- I was going to tell her. Tonight.”

“Tell her what?” Ted’s doing that thing where he bats his eyelashes like he’s in some sort of rom-com. Beard’s got his head resting in his hand, looking similarly up at Roy. They’re insufferable.

“That I fucking like her, okay? Take those fucking looks off your faces.”

Ted and Beard scramble to look normal but come up short. Ted’s got the awful kind of shit-eating grin on his face that he gets when he sees Sam and Jamie hugging or watches Isaac doing his handshakes with everyone before a game.

“So, you’ve been spending time together? Or are you telling her out of the blue?” Beard pipes up.

Roy thinks that over. You’ve been spending a lot of time together actually. More than anyone at the club would probably even believe. He slips away to your office to eat lunch under the guise of needing a break from the American Circus downstairs. You text him when you’ve brought in ice cream because you know he’ll never say no to ice cream. You’ve met Phoebe. That one was by accident in the park, but you stuck around for four fucking hours and nobody made you.

Still, he wonders whether it would be completely shocking to you or whether you’ve been waiting for him to make a proper move. You’re incredibly difficult to read alongside being so stupidly pretty that sometimes he wants to swear less around you. He doesn’t manage it, of course, but he thinks it.

“Yes, we’ve spent time together. No, I don’t know what that means. Probably doesn’t mean shit to her, not that it would be her fault if she doesn't.”

Ted and Beard tilt their heads simultaneously at him and he wishes he could bash their heads together for a moment.

“But it means somethin’ to you, hey coach? I don’t think Miss Y/N sittin’ with Jamie should stop you from tellin' her how you feel about ‘er, hey coach?”

Roy’s lost track of which coach Ted is even talking to, but Beard chimes in.

“Surely her spending time with Jamie should be all the more incentive to tell her. Find out how she feels. Get that crushing disappointment out of the way now. It’s only downhill from here.”

Roy raises a brow at him as Ted gives him a look. Beard sighs, then picks up his drink and seems to disappear. Ted leans into Roy.

“Him and Jane are on a break again, I’m sorry. Look I’m goin’ to have to go find him but he was right, until he wasn’t. Go get ‘er, Ross Gellar!”

And with that, Ted’s gone too, weaving his way through crowds of people until he’s lost to them. When Roy glances back in your direction, Jamie’s got Colin and Isaac beside him instead and you’re nowhere to be found. He sighs and stands from his barstool, making his way to the exit. Maybe he’d think about what Ted and Beard had said tomorrow: for now, he just wanted to go home.

Except for the fact that when he finally managed to push his way outside to breathe in some fresh air, he found you. Leaning against the wall of the club, with definite tears in your eyes, even under the dim street lamp light. He was going to murder Jamie Tartt, slowly, with rope and paint and suffering involved.

But he knew to take a slightly softer approach with you. If at all possible.

“Hey,” he says quietly, trying not to startle you. You're quick to look up at him, startled anyway, and he grits his teeth as he asks, “Are you alright?”

He doesn’t make any comment about what the fuck Jamie had done to you. Doesn’t think it would be received all that well. Again, he’s biting the inside of his lip harder than ever.

“Yes! Oh god, yes, sorry,” you’re blinking furiously. He admires your resolve when the nearly teary face is quickly replaced by that bright smile that makes him weaker in the knees than he already is, “Fuck, sorry. I’m all good. I’m not sure this is my scene, I was just going to call a taxi.”

There’s an opening. He’ll be damned if he’s not taking it, even though confessing anything is the furthest idea from his mind - he’s much more focused on making sure you’re okay and nobody’s done anything to hurt you. If they have, he's already resigned to a short stint in jail if necessary.

“Do you want to walk?”

“Uh, I mean not really. It’s quite late, so…”

“With me, I mean,” he quickly clarified, wanting to bash his head against the brick wall, “I could walk you home, if you wanted. Or not. That’s fine too.”

“Oh, right,” you’re looking down at your feet as you contemplate it, “That would be nice, if you’re sure. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he insists, falling into step beside you as you begin to walk. He wants to give you his jacket and maybe his shirt too with the way you’re shivering, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s a fucking coward, but he will get to the bottom of what’s the matter if its the last thing he does, “You gonna tell me what’s wrong now?”

You huff out a frustrated sigh, at him, at yourself, he isn’t sure.

“I made a fucking fool of myself tonight,” you say eventually, and he can’t even imagine you doing that, “I thought…god, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Everything just feels worse when its…1:30 in the morning, don’t you think?”

You’d lifted his hand to check his watch before you said the time. Again, he wanted to hold on, but he let you drop his hand and it just went limp.

“It fucking does, yeah. Don’t think you could make a fucking fool of yourself if you tried though. Not around us lot.”

Your family, he heard Ted’s voice in his head. He was not fucking saying that. To his surprise, you let out a loud bark of a laugh at his words and he was staring at the side of your face as you spoke out into the dark air.

“I thought you were coming to pick me up tonight, you know?” you began, and his heart drops to his shoes. You’re upset about him?

“What?”

“Something you said earlier, when you asked me to come. You asked where I lived, then told me it would be a twenty minute walk to get there. Then you said ‘see you at seven’.”

He could have stopped walking. He had said that, but he was just trying to help you plan out your timings for the evening - you’d mentioned to him once that you were known for having some time blindness when you were getting ready for things. Of course he should have realised how fucking stupid that was, how much that sounded like he would come and walk with you.

He would have fucking loved to walk with you.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, far too loudly for the quiet night that surrounded you. You carried on undeterred, shaking your head. He could see your frustration was at yourself now, and he hated himself even more than he had earlier.

“My fault for assuming, I know. But that’s why I was so late. And when I arrived, trying talk myself into not feeling like a twat, you were already over with Dani and Isaac and Bumbercatch, clearly never intending to come pick me up. Which, why would you, of course. I just…felt shit. Jamie tried to help, bless him, but I just wanted to go home, honestly.”

Roy is the biggest idiot on the planet. He wants to go back into the club and hug Jamie for looking after you, then ask him to punch him in the face. Roy could punch something, anything right now, but he just grits his teeth.

“I’m-” he grunts when his voice comes out all strangled, “I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N. I’m the fucking twat. I was asking where you lived and that to help you with that fucking time blindness thing you told me about. Should’ve known how it sounded though. Fucking idiot.”

He directed the last comment at himself, kicking a stone he’d found on the pavement. He kept his eyes firmly trained on his shoes as the two of you continued walking, now at a significantly slower pace. Your eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face.

There was a silence that stretched on as you stared at him, until-

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, “That’s so fucking sweet. You’re the worst.”

He doesn’t know if he can remember being called sweet before. Phoebe was often excessively complimentary of him in a way that made him uncomfortable, but sweet had never come up. He didn’t feel sweet.

“I am the worst,” he grunted, spiralling, “Making you feel so shit. Ruining your fucking night. I was the one who convinced you in the first place and now you’ve had a shit fucking time and I’m the worst.”

He’s a little out of breath and loud again by the end of his rant. The two of you have stopped walking. You kick the toe of your heel against his shoe, placating.

“No, you’re the worst ‘cause you keep giving me all this hope. I fucking hate hope, no matter what Ted says,” you chuckle to yourself, and he’s not sure what you’re saying but he’s peering into your now smiling expression as he tries to work it out, “Look, do you like me or not? You’re a good guy Roy and either way, I’m grateful that you’re walking me home. I just think if I ask, maybe I can just feel like a twat for the night and get it over with by tomorrow.”

“Do I…like you?”

He sounds thick. He feels thick. Feels like his mouth is full of honey that his tongue is having to wade through to even speak to you. It’s stuck to the bottom of his mouth, heavy.

“Yeah. As in, do you just enjoy eating lunch with me or do you ever look at me and just want to kiss me? Cause I do that all the fucking time, Roy, but I can’t be arsed to dance around it anymore.”

You look really tired as you stare up at him, but he feels more energised than ever. You’ve both just established that he’s the absolute worst, and yet here he is, with everything he could’ve wanted right in front of him. You, looking fucking gorgeous and looking at him like that? Even getting a job at Chelsea wouldn’t help him against you - he was gone.

There’s a smirk on his face that he can’t bite back as he takes your face in both his hands and revels in the gasp he can pull from you. He should have known you’d be the first to say something. You weren’t the coward he was.

“Let’s not fuck about then, yeah?”

Low and breathy. You respond with a nod so eager that he’s practically grinning when he pulls you in. It’s quickly replaced by a hunger he’s been keeping at bay, allowing his hands to slide into your hair as he deepens the kiss almost as soon as it’s started. He can feel your hands clutching at the lapels on his jacket, but he’s more excited when you throw your arms around his neck instead, tugging on the hair at the base of his head.

He growls and you actually whimper. It’s like he’s been set on fucking fire. Like he’s been struck by lightning.

When he pulls away for air, you stay close, peppering kisses along the scruff of his jaw, up the side of his face and back down again. He holds you to him tightly around your waist and feels wanted. He’s wanted you for so long, but to be wanted in return, so openly, it’s both hot and meaningful. He’s not sure anyone’s ever told him they liked him before. Most models he’d dated were pretty sold on the idea that he had to make all the moves.

Still, when you begin trailing kisses down his neck and there’s a hand on the top button of his shirt, he has enough sense about him to stop you. Even if he really doesn’t want to.

“I don’t know what street this is,” he breathes out, low voice little more than a rumble, “But maybe we don't give your neighbours a fucking show.”

You look thoroughly kissed when you look back at him, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough. He leans in to kiss you once more to punctuate his sentence, watching as you duck your head, all shy, even though your arms are still around him. He knows now that when you ducked your head with Jamie, you were embarrassed. This is you properly flustered and it’s one of his favourite looks on you.

“Good call, yeah. Okay. I’m- I’m just around this corner, I think.”

“You think?”

“Shut up, you,” you whack him lightly on the shoulder, as the two of you resume walking, “Think you can make it all the way there?”

“I’d carry you if my knee wasn’t fucked,” he admits, watching you with a lopsided smile, “Really fucking like you, by the way. If that wasn’t proof. Thought you should hear me fucking say it.”

You close your eyes in a little half laugh - giddy, he thinks.

“Well, I did wonder. We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few weeks for someone who doesn’t like spending time with people.”

“Your first clue,” he agrees, taking your hand with pride now as the two of you keep walking, turning the corner towards your house. The pace is a lot quicker than it was before. He hopes he knows why, “I’ll be less of a fucking idiot now. Promise.”

“Eh, don’t worry,” you shrug, letting go of his hand only to thread your arm through his and take hold of his hand again, even tighter, “Nothing sexier than fucking idiots. I like my men with no thoughts behind their eyes.”

He properly laughs at that, head tilted back, feeling your head against his arm as you laugh with him. You slow down, gesturing left. Your house. The two of you walk down the drive until you’re at the door, face to face again and Roy is having a small internal battle.

“Look, I know you said no show for the neighbours,” you begin, almost nervously, “But does that mean a…private show is totally off the table too?”

He watches you picking at your nails. Can’t help it. He pulls you in for another breathless kiss, just to watch you come alive again, confident and fucking into him, however much of a miracle it seems. You pull away this time, clearly keen for an answer, but he groans.

“Tryin’ to be a fucking gentleman, here. Why don’t we do dinner tomorrow? Proper date. And I’ll fucking pick you up.”

You giggle. Still, there’s a glint in your eyes, as you sigh melodramatically.

“That does sound nice. Only thing is, there could be an intruder in here, you know? So, and I’ll only ask once more and then I promise I’ll let you go if you say no, but maybe you should walk me to my bedroom? To make sure I’m safe, you know? And then you can pay for my breakfast in the morning like a good old fashioned gentleman, if you want.”

You’re looking up at him, all hopeful again. His resolve is dwindling. You spin your keys around one finger and its a simple gesture, but it’s the final straw.

“I’m paying for your fucking lunch too,” he growls, diving into you once again. He’s beside himself when he hears you mutter a faint ‘thank fuck’ as you fumble to unlock the door and all but drag him inside.

---

if you've read this far, i fucking love you, you beautiful sunflower <3 requests open for this angry man and his favourite jamie tartt if you're interested!!

#roy kent x reader #roy kent #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent x you

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badasbebi · 4 months

Text

not my fault ➛ 2/2

read part one

✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: discovering that a cute girl you saw at your college orientation is your roommate, you become eager to get to know her. however, things quickly go awry when she turns out to be much more difficult to get along with than you could've imagined and abruptly leaves you in the dust. fueled by your terrible experiences with her and rumors about her dating habits, you swear to stay away from her at all costs. will you be able to keep your promise?

✦ genre/au: fluff, smut, my poor attempt at a rom-com, college!au, enemies to lovers, (very slight) roommates to lovers

✦ word count: 9.8k (im still embarrassed)

✦ warnings: isn't proofread. MDNI!!!! top!bada, top!reader for 2 seconds, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), bada is a giver, one of my first attempts at smut so please bear with me lmao.

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At this point, the school needed to compensate you for how much time you were spending watching and judging their sports teams. Or, maybe you should be paying rent, with how often you're staying here. The thought alone makes you cringe. Tuition was enough.

Your legs are crossed, and a notebook rests on your lap as you sit in the bleachers, observing the dance team once again. This time, you're not waiting for Lusher. You're here for Bada, who said she could only meet with you after practice today. You're just grateful you're indoors today, and away from volant objects.

It's been a few days since the interview, and you've managed to avoid seeing her in person as much as possible. You've been communicating solely through text, not even bothering to exchange words in class. You know it's childish, but you don’t have the vigor to deal with her head-on. Besides, this way, you can focus on your part of the project, and not Bada's... everything.

You scan the gym floor and pinpoint her. Today, she's wearing a short-sleeved shirt and another pair of cargo pants, driving you to deliberate about how many she owns. If you looked that good in everything, did it matter?

You shake your head, averting your eyes before she notices your staring. You're not even sure what the purpose of your being here is. You probably could've waited to come closer to the end of practice. it was an admittedly nice way to occupy your time while you waited, you assure yourself.

The team is working on a new routine, one that involves a lot of acrobatics. They're running through their routine for the third time. Each time, they seem to get better, their movements more fluid and precise. You watch, fascinated, as Bada twists and turns, her limbs moving in a way that seems almost impossible. She's incredible. She's probably the best dancer on the team, not that you would ever tell her that.

After what feels like an eternity, the music comes to an end, and the team collapses to the ground, panting and sweaty. You're a little out of breath just watching them.

"Good job, guys," Bada says, her voice ringing through the large gym.

"Thanks," someone calls out, her tone laced with exhaustion.

"Let's call it a day," she says.

There's a collective sigh of relief as the team gathers their things and starts to leave. A few people linger, chatting with each other. Bada is one of them, talking to a group of girls. You try not to stare, but it's hard not to notice the way she laughs and smiles around them.

You look away, darting your eyes around the room, when someone catches your eye. Once you realize who it is, your blood runs cold. How did you not notice her before? Probably because of Bada. Damn that woman.

Aiki is on the opposite side of the gym, standing near the door. She's talking to someone and hasn't seemed to notice you yet.

The last thing you need right now is to run into Aiki. That encounter last year was awkward enough. You have no interest in rehashing the whole mess, especially with Bada so nearby.

You snatch your stuff, flying down the bleachers at a speed you did not realize you were capable of. You take the steps two at a time, adrenaline is burning in your veins, nearly tripping over yourself in the process.

You finally reach the bottom, and without a second thought, duck under the bleachers, hiding yourself from view like a criminal hiding from the police.

Your heart is racing, and you lean against a pole, trying to catch your breath. You peek out and see Aiki still hasn't noticed you. She's chatting animatedly with whoever she's talking to and doesn't seem concerned about finding you.

You breathe a sigh of relief, and slide down to the ground. You rest your head against the pole, and close your eyes, willing your heart rate to slow down. This was ridiculous. You needed to exercise more.

"What the hell, y/n?" a familiar voice calls from behind you. You scream, jumping up and banging your head on the metal.

"Ouch," you hiss, rubbing the tender spot.

"What are you doing?" Bada asks, her tone equal parts amusement and annoyance.

"Uh, nothing," you say, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"This is so weird," she states.

"Sorry," you mutter, ducking your head.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her tone softening.

"I'm fine," you say, brushing her off.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you sigh.

She takes a step towards you. "I can help you. I'm a nurse's aid, remember?" she points out, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"No, it's fine, I'm okay."

"Okay, well, if you're not gonna tell me what's going on, can you come out from under there, at least?"

"Uh—"

"Y/n?!" Lusher's voice rings out, running up to the bleachers.

"Shit," you whisper. You did not need two witnesses present for this mortifying experience.

"What are you doing?" Lusher says, peering over Bada's shoulder.

"Nothing," you call, trying to sound casual.

"Why are you hiding under the bleachers right now?"

"I'm not," you lie, wincing.

"Y/n," Bada says, shaking her head.

"Shhh," you hush.

"You're ridiculous," she chuckles.

"Both of you, come!" you hiss.

"Is she serious right now?" Lusher whispers to Bada.

"Apparently," she sighs.

"Come on," you say, reaching out and grabbing Bada's wrist.

You pull her towards you, and she stumbles, losing her balance and landing on top of you. The both of you yelp in surprise, and a laugh escapes your mouth. It's surprisingly comfortable. You resist the urge to pull her closer.

"Sorry," Bada apologizes, her face inches from yours.

"It's okay," you say, your breath catching.

You're suddenly aware of the warmth of her body and the closeness of her lips.

"Uh, we should probably get up," she murmurs.

"Right," you say, nodding, but neither of you move.

"Hello?! Are you about to have sex?!" Lusher's annoyed voice snaps you out of your trance.

"No! uh, let's get up. Seriously," you say, gently pushing Bada off.

“Good idea,” she agrees.

Bada stands up, and holds out her hand, helping you up.

"Thanks," you mumble, feeling your face grow hot.

"Y/n, seriously, what is going on?" Lusher demands, her patience wearing thin.

You step toward her, glaring. "When did Aiki join the dance team, huh? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lusher's mouth widens into an 'o'. She sticks her finger up, gearing up to defend herself.

"Um, she didn’t,” Bada cuts in. "She's just helping us choreograph some of our routines."

"Oh," you say.

"She’s really good, so I thought it’d be fun to collaborate with her,” Bada explains.

"So, she's not a member of the dance team," Lusher clarifies, giving you a pointed look.

"Nope," Bada says.

"Oh, well, uh, good," you say, a mixture of confusion and relief swirling within you.

"So, why are you asking about Aiki?" Bada asks, rubbing the back of her neck.

"She's my ex."

"What?" Bada's mouth drops.

"Yeah,” you admit, woefully.

"Really?"

"It's a long story," you sigh.

"Huh," Bada says, looking stunned.

"So, that's why you were hiding under the bleachers?" Lusher inquires.

"Yeah. I didn't feel like talking to her."

Bada still looks dumbfounded. She's staring at you, and it's starting to make you nervous.

"Well, that’s silly! But I'm glad you're not in danger, or whatever," Lusher says.

"No. I was,” you deadpan.

Lusher snorts and shakes her head. "Anyway, I know you're here for Bada. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll leave you guys be," she says, wiggling her eyebrows, out of Bada's sight.

You hiss at her, imagining strangulation.

"Bye, Bada. Bye, y/n. I'll see you at home," she calls, sauntering away.

You shoot her a middle finger.

"Bye," Bada says with a small wave.

She turns to face you, and she stares at you, hard, her eyes unreadable. Your stomach churns with anxiety.

"Nothing," she says, a small smile forming on her face.

"What are you smiling at?"

"I just didn't know that Aiki was your ex-girlfriend."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," you retort.

"True," she says, the smile never leaving her face.

"Anyway, can we get going now? We have work to do," you say, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Right," she says. "Lead the way."

You walk side by side, the silence between you thick and uncomfortable.

"So," she starts, clearing her throat. "I was thinking...would you mind stopping somewhere and getting something to eat?"

You stop walking.

"Why? Are you hungry?" you ask, suspicious.

"Yeah, a little," she says, rubbing her stomach.

"What are you craving?"

"Anything is fine," she says, a little too quickly.

"Bada, just tell me," you groan, annoyed.

"Okay, fine. I've been wanting to try this new Korean BBQ place that opened a few blocks away."

You bite the inside of your cheek. Of course, she wants to go to a restaurant. You're not sure why you were expecting anything else.

"Um, I guess we could do that," you say, hesitantly.

"Great!"

You follow her as she leads you out of the gym and into the bright, warm afternoon sun.

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You find yourself sitting in the booth across from Bada, staring at a plate of food.

"What's wrong?" Bada asks, noticing your apprehension.

"Nothing," you reply, forcing a smile.

"Okay," she says, not sounding convinced.

You pick up a piece of meat and put it on your plate. The smell is amazing, and your mouth waters.

"Are you going to eat?" Bada asks, gesturing towards your untouched food.

"Yeah," you reply, picking up a piece and bringing it to your lips.

"So, um, how have you been?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"Fine," you say, taking a bite.

"That's good."

"Yeah," you say, chewing.

"And, uh, how's your part of project going?"

"It's going," you respond, swallowing.

"Cool."

"Mhm," you hum, not bothering to elaborate.

You hear a sigh. "Do you always have to be like this?" she asks, exasperated.

You huff. "Like what?"

"Cold. Distant," she says.

"Excuse me?" you snap.

"You're always so closed off. It's frustrating."

You drop your chopsticks. "Are you messing with me right now? You're the one that's been standoffish since I've met you. And what was with that whole moving out situation that you still haven't given me an explanation for, by the way?"

Her face softens. "Look, I'm sorry about all that. I was just...going through something."

"What were you going through?"

She averts her gaze, and fidgets with her chopsticks.

"Hey, it's okay, you don't have to tell me," you say, feeling bad for pushing her.

She bites her lip, and your eyes are drawn to the movement.

"I don't mind telling you, but can it wait until later? I don't know if it's the right time."

You nod, and return to eating, a little more at ease than before.

"So, you and Aiki?" she says, after a beat.

You freeze. You were hoping that she had forgotten about that.

"Yep," you say, your voice tight.

"How did it happen?"

You shrug. "It was just a short high school fling. But, you know, first lesbian heartbreak and all."

She snorts. "I get that."

"Really?" you respond, leaning forward. You're too nosy to pass up on this.

"Yeah," she says, a little sheepish.

"Who was it? Do I know them?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Is it Doyeon?" you guess, grinning.

Bada nearly chokes on her food. "What?! No. She's just...no," she sputters.

"Tatter?"

Bada squeals, shoving her head in her hands. "Ew, no! She's like a sister to me."

"Hm," you say, tapping your chin.

She glares at you. "It's none of your business."

You shrug. "I'm just surprised, that's all," you say, nonchalant.

"Why?"

"Well," you begin, resting your elbows on the table. "You're like, a total heartthrob. Everyone's crazy about you."

She lets out a bark of laughter. "No, I'm not," she says, dismissive.

"You are," you insist. "Do you know the vile things I've heard women say about you? I'm surprised you don't need bodyguards. You have literal fangirls."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, maybe a few girls like me. But, they're not crazy."

"I beg to differ."

"Whatever," she laughs.

"All I'm saying is that I'm surprised you've gotten your heartbroken by women before. It seems like you'd be able to get any girl you wanted, and keep them."

Her face grows solemn. "It doesn't always work like that," she says.

You're taken aback. Her eyes are a storm, dark and intense.

"I guess you're right," you agree, trying to break the tension.

She clears her throat. "Let's just eat."

You're confused, and a little worried, but you're also starving.

"Right," you say.

The rest of the meal is silent, the two of you not making eye contact.

After a few minutes, she finally speaks up.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," you reply, grateful to be leaving.

"Let's get going, then," she says, grabbing her card.

You slide your backpack across the seat, toward your body. "I'll pay," you offer, pulling your wallet out.

"No, it's fine," she insists, reaching across the table and swatting your hand away.

"Bada," you warn, a little annoyed.

"It's just one meal, and I asked you to come here with me. It's only fair that I pay."

You open your mouth to protest, but the look on her face stops you.

"Fine," you grumble, shoving your wallet inside your bag.

"Thank you," she says, giving you a small smile.

She gets up, and heads for the door. You follow her lead, getting up from the table, uneasiness settling in your stomach.

The two of you make your way to the cash register, where the hostess greets her enthusiastically. She hands her the bill, and Bada hands her the credit card, and the hostess takes it, grazing Bada's hand with a coy smile. You glance at one of the tables nearby, contemplating how much of a hassle it'd be to gouge your eyes out with chopsticks. You decide against it, knowing that you'd probably be banned from this delicious restaurant and would never be able to return. You sigh, depressed, and when you focus on Bada again, you're caught off guard by what you witness. Bada thanks the hostess and turns to leave, not bothering to wait for the receipt. The hostess frowns and calls out a goodbye, which is met with Bada's disinterested wave. You trail behind her, raising an eyebrow at her, and she ignores your questioning look.

Rather, Bada grabs your wrist and guides you outside. You try not to notice the way her palm feels against yours. Yet, you are unable to suppress the smirk that emerges on your face.

Once you're outside, she drops her hand, and you're reminded of the discomfort that occurred in the restaurant.

You squint. The sun has started to set, casting a glow over the city. The streets are crowded, the hustle and bustle of people passing by.

"Give me your bag," Bada demands, holding out her hand.

You gape at her, then clutch your backpack, surveying your surroundings for any law enforcement. "Sorry, what?"

"Your bag. Give it to me." she repeats, her hand still extended.

"Are you trying to rob me?" you ask, baffled.

"What? No. Why would I do that?" she clarifies, incredulous. "I'm walking you home, and we have a long way to go. Your bag is gonna get heavy. So, give it to me." she explains, wiggling her fingers.

"Oh," you say, feeling foolish. You loosen your grip on your bag. "No need for that! I can take care of myself."

She gives you an impatient look. "Do you have to argue with me about everything? Just let me walk with you, please."

"Fine," you relent, sliding the backpack off your shoulder and handing it to her.

"Thank you," she sighs.

She takes a step closer to you, and to your surprise, laces her free arm through yours.

"Lead the way," she instructs, motioning ahead.

You stare at the place where your arms are interlocked. "What are you doing?" you question, alarmed.

"What does it look like? I'm walking with you."

"Uh, I guess," you say, your heart racing.

"Ready?"

"Sure" you mutter, defeated.

"Let's go."

You begin walking, your arms intertwined. Your pulse is erratic, and the closeness of her is sending heat waves throughout your body. You're sure she can feel the beating of your heart.

You walk in silence, the sounds of the city filling the air.

"I'm sorry if I got a little weird back there," Bada says, breaking the silence.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I didn't mean to make things awkward. I just...get a little sensitive when it comes to talking about my love life."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she admits, sighing.

"Well, that's understandable. It's hard talking about failed relationships."

"Exactly," she says, turning to look at you. "But, thank you for understanding."

You feel the weight of her stare, and a blush rises to your cheeks. What was going on with you right now?

"Don't mention it."

"Y/n," she says, her voice low.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for going to dinner with me."

"Of course," you say, your words caught in your throat.

"I had a really good time."

You can't think of a response, her brown eyes drawing you in.

"Me too," you manage.

Her mouth curves into a grin.

"Can I do something?" she whispers.

"Um, yeah, sure."

She leans in, and adjusts a strand of hair that's fallen onto your face. Your breathing quickens. You didn't even realize that a strand was in front of your face. Her eyes are locked onto yours, and her hand lingers on the side of your face.

"Better," she says, her face centimeters away from yours.

You swallow. "I- uh- thank you."

She pulls away, and a sense of disappointment settles within you.

"It was nothing," she says, her eyes twinkling.

"Okay," you reply, unable to form a coherent sentence.

You're both silent again, and the rest of the walk passes in a blur. Before you know it, you're at your doorstep.

"This is it," you say, turning to her.

"This is your apartment?"

"Yep," you confirm, reaching into your pocket for your keys.

"Alright, cool," she says, tossing you your backpack.

You catch it, the straps hitting you in the face. Please stop this madness, you think. At least you caught it. Maybe there's still hope for you.

"Thank you," you say, slinging it onto your back.

"Of course," she flashes you a bright smile, and your heart skips a beat. “I had a great time.”

“Me too,” you confess, your palms sweaty. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," she echoes, her voice soft.

You're not sure what else to say, so you give her a small wave and head for the door.

"Goodnight, y/n," she calls gently, as you reach for the handle. You turn to look at her, and her eyes are shining, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Goodnight, Bada," you respond, giving her a smile.

She nods, and with one final glance, she turns and walks away. You watch her retreating figure, and let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"What the hell was that?" you whisper, your head spinning.

You enter your apartment. It's dark. Lusher must not be home, which makes you want to cry. You wanted to talk to her about today. You throw yourself onto the couch. You replay the evening's events in your head, and as you do, you feel an incoming headache.

You sigh, and close your eyes. Tonight was weird. Really, really weird.

Your phone buzzes, and you grab it from the coffee table. You have one new message.

You unlock your phone, and check the message. It's from Bada.

Bada: hey, did you get inside your apartment alright?

Y/N: yes

Bada: good. i was just making sure.

Y/N: thanks.

Bada: no problem. :)

You stare at the screen, and quickly type out a response.

Y/N: thanks for tonight. i had a really great time.

Bada: me too.

Bada: we should do it again sometime!

Bada: I mean, other than our meet-ups for the project.

This is when you remember for the first time since the end of dinner that the two of you are doing a project together. That was the original reason for meeting.

You: yeah, definitely.

Bada: awesome!

Bada: sweet dreams <3

Y/N: night.

You throw your phone down. Your head is reeling. As you lay there, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, the memory of her fingers brushing your cheek plays in your mind. The warmth of her touch. The softness. And her eyes. Her eyes.

You let out a sigh, and rub your temples.

"Get a hold of yourself," you mumble.

But, no matter how much you try, you can't stop the butterflies in your stomach, or the warmth in your chest. Something shifted today. Maybe it shifted from the moment you began working on this project together. With every meeting, Bada proved to you that she's not the stuck-up, self-centered person you thought she was. No. She's smart. And she's kind. So, so kind. Gentle. Talented. Nothing aligned with the image of her that you created in your head.

As much as you've tried to push these feelings away, deny them, repress them, they keep coming back. And with the way she's acting, the way she's been treating you, it feels like she may feel the same. But, what if you're wrong?

The thought scares you. If she didn't reciprocate, the embarrassment would be insurmountable. It would ruin everything. Your seemingly newfound friendship. The project. Regardless of how great tonight was, you cannot help but think back to that day in the locker rooms, and how dismayed she sounded at the thought of asking you out. Even if her feelings have shifted and she finds you attractive now, what if that's all that it is? Attraction. Lust. The thought of it makes you nauseous. You're not sure you could survive her using you and then discarding you, like some kind of toy, like the other ones.

No, it's better to remain friends. Just friends. Besides, you're sure that these feelings will dissipate soon. They have to. Right? Maybe you'd just steer clear of her for a little while to be safe. It'll give her the space she needs to forget about this, and give you the time to bury these stupid feelings.

You decide to text her.

Y/N: hey, i'm really tired. can we reschedule tomorrow's study session for next week?

She replies almost immediately.

Bada: yeah, no problem. are you okay?

Y/N: yes

Y/N: just had a long day.

Bada: alright, take care.

Y/N: will do.

Bada: oh, and one more thing.

Y/N: ?

Bada: thank you again.

Bada: i mean it.

Bada: and i'm glad that we're friends.

Your stomach flutters. Friends. Yes. This is exactly what you need.

Bada: goodnight.

Y/N: sweet dreams.

You toss your phone onto the couch, and get up. You're exhausted. Physically. Emotionally. You need to get to bed. You trudge to the bathroom, and wash up. Then, you change, and climb into bed. As you drift off to sleep, a million thoughts are swirling through your mind. But, the one that lingers is the image of her eyes, warm and bright, staring at you.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You're lying in bed, your laptop open, the blue light washing over you. The room is silent, save for the sounds of your keyboard, the tapping of keys. It's late. Really late. But, you can't sleep. Every time you close your eyes, you see her. Those brown, inviting eyes.

You groan and sit up. You need a distraction. You can't use your phone, because you'd have to face the dozens of unread texts from Bada that have been collecting dust for the past couple weeks. You haven't talked to her at all since that night, even going as far as to skip the class that you have with her. It seems like she's given up trying to reach you, as today is the first day you've gone without a message from her. Thank God.

You pull your laptop onto your lap, and open a random YouTube video.

It's a funny skit. A couple. They're arguing. About something mundane, trivial. You find yourself laughing. For a moment, you forget about her. But, the feeling doesn't last. Because, after the skit is over, the next video starts.

It's a music video. Two women. They're singing. It's a love song. You can't focus on the lyrics, the images, the sound. All you can see is her. Those eyes.

You slam the laptop shut and throw it onto the bed.

"Dammit," you mutter.

You can't think straight. Everything is clouded by her. By Bada. You're losing your mind. You need air.

You stand and walk to the window. You look outside. It's quiet. There are few cars, no people. Just the lights, casting their glow upon the buildings.

You rest your head against the window, and sigh. You've never felt this way before. It's maddening. Infuriating. But, you can't help it.

You hear your door open, and Lusher steps into the room.

"Hey," she greets.

"Hi."

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," you reply, not turning around.

Lusher leans against the wall, studying you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Y/n," she sighs, "You know that you can tell me anything."

"I know."

"So, what's going on?"

"I don't know," you shrug.

She walks towards you and stands beside you.

"Come on," she insists, "Tell me."

"It's stupid," you grumble, shaking your head.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Fine," you relent.

"Let's hear it," she presses.

"Well," you start, "It's about Bada."

Lusher smirks. "I knew it."

"You knew what?"

"That you had a crush on her."

"Wait, what?" you splutter, turning to face her.

"You're so obvious," she accuses, crossing her arms.

"No, I'm not!"

"Oh, please," she laughs, "Even when you claimed to hate her it was written all over your face. I mean, why else would you be so upset over your roommate of one day leaving you? Because you had a humongous crush on her and got embarrassed when she seemingly rejected you!"

"That's not it at all," you retort. "It was the principle! I mean, filing a complaint against me is crazy."

"Y/n," she says, gently. "You have a crush. It's normal."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure if the feelings are reciprocated."

"You know, the day that you guys got paired up for that project, she sent me a text asking me what kind of coffee you liked. We'd never even texted before that," she reveals.

You blink in disbelief. "What?"

"Yeah," she chuckles. "Apparently, she was trying to get on your good side and impress you."

"Wow," you mumble.

"But, I guess I ruined it for her," she jokes.

"Why'd you tell her about the coffee?"

"Because, I'm your friend. And I could tell that you liked her. A lot."

"I don't know," you say, shaking your head. "Maybe it doesn't mean anything. She's a flirt, and she's nice to everyone."

"You're not wrong. But, y/n, you gotta trust your instincts. If you feel something, go for it."

"Maybe," you respond, not sure if you're convinced.

"Just don't sit here and dwell on it," she says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"Can we get out of here?" you ask, still wanting a distraction.

"Sure. Where to?"

"Anywhere. The library. A bar. A club. Just, not here."

"Alright," she says, grinning. "Let's go."

–

Lusher brings you to a house party. You're not in the mood, but she manages to convince you to come. After a couple of drinks, you're feeling a bit more relaxed. The music is loud, and the crowd is rowdy, but you don't mind. It's a welcome distraction from your thoughts.

"There she is," Lusher shouts, pointing to a familiar figure.

It's Bada. Her hair is tied into a ponytail, and she’s wearing a short-sleeved patterned button-down shirt, black baggy pants. She looks good, as always. She's dancing with a group of friends. There are a couple women standing suspiciously close to her, giving her heart eyes.

"Do you want to say hi?" Lusher asks, nudging you.

"No," you yell over the noise, "She looks like she's having fun. We should leave her alone."

She gives you a pitiful look and sighs. "If you say so."

You take another sip of your drink. You watch her as she dances, her hips swaying, her arms above her head. She looks happy. Carefree. You can't help but admire her, even now, in this house full of people. She's beautiful. Ethereal. The way the light catches her hair, her skin. She's captivating.

"Excuse me," a voice interrupts your train of thought.

You turn around. It's Aiki.

It's settled. Someone has invoked a curse on you, and you're doomed to suffer incessant encounters with unattainable women who have broken your heart until the end of time.

"Hey, Aiki," you greet, attempting to hide your discomfort.

"Hey," she responds, her gaze flickering to Lusher. "And who's this?"

"I'm Lusher, y/n's best friend. We went to school together. I'm also on the dance team."

"Oh, right! The famous Lusher," she exclaims, offering her hand. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Same," she nods, taking her hand.

Aiki's attention returns to you. "Y/n, I didn't expect to see you here," she notes, sipping her beer.

"Yeah, well, here I am," you laugh awkwardly.

"You should come dance with us," she invites, motioning towards the crowd.

"No, thanks. I'm not much of a dancer."

"Really? You looked pretty good when we danced together," she comments, smiling.

You laugh. "Trust me, that was a one-time thing."

"Aw, come on. I'd love to see you dance again," she insists.

"No, really. It's not happening," you say, holding up your hands.

"Oh, c'mon. Just one dance," she begs, taking a step closer.

You mull this over, tapping your fingers against your cup. "Well, maybe just one."

"Yes!" she cheers, grabbing your hand.

You glance at Lusher, who offers an encouraging thumbs-up.

Aiki leads you to the dance floor, and the two of you join the throng of sweaty bodies. She begins to dance, her hips gyrating, her arms raised above her head.

"C'mon," she urges, "Join me."

You hesitate, not wanting to embarrass yourself, but her enthusiasm is infectious.

You begin to move, swaying your hips to the beat.

She steps closer, her hand finding its way to your waist. "That's it," she praises, her voice low and seductive.

Your pulse quickens. You can't help but be reminded of the last time the two of you were this close, the night when she asked you out.

Her grip on your waist tightens, pulling you closer. Your breath hitches, and your eyes lock.

"Y/n," she whispers, her lips inches from yours.

Your heart hammers in your chest. You feel her fingers trailing along your side, her body pressed against yours. The music drowns out all rational thought. All that matters is her, the heat of her touch, the sound of her voice. Her breath is warm against your cheek. Her hand caresses your neck, drawing you closer. Your eyes flutter closed, and—

A heavy weight comes crashing into the two of you, sending the both of you stumbling backward.

"Watch it," you snap, looking over to see the culprit.

And it's Bada, of course.

She's holding a red cup, staring at the two of you with an unreadable expression.

"Sorry," she mutters, taking a step back.

You glance at Aiki, who looks like she's bordering on being concussed, and then settle your gaze back on Bada.

"Bada? Where the hell did you come from?" you question, rubbing your forehead.

Her jaw clenches. "Nowhere."

You let out a short, dry, disbelieving snort. “That explains a bunch.”

"Sorry," she repeats. "I tripped."

"Right," you say, not believing her.

"Where have you been?" she asks, taking a small sip of her drink. You study her face, noticing the pink flush on her cheeks. You'd assume it was the alcohol, but she doesn't seem drunk.

"Around," you answer, crossing your arms.

"Well, I didn't see you at class," she points out, taking another sip.

"I was busy," you lie, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

"So busy you couldn't even give me a heads up?"

"Yup," you reply, popping the p.

"What about our project?"

"Is that all you care about?" you retaliate.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, sucking in a breath. "No, but-"

"Um," Aiki pipes up, lifting herself off of the floor. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No!" you say.

"Yes," Bada responds at the same time, venom laced through her voice.

"Bada," you growl, glaring at her. "Stop."

"Well, are you not done?"

"Done with what?"

"Her," she spits.

"Alright, well," Aiki interjects, holding up her hands. "I'm done! I'm gonna head out, Y/N. I'll catch you later...or not." Aiki says, fast-walking away with a limp.

"Bada," you whisper, anger bubbling up in your throat.

"What?" she says, her gaze piercing.

"Are you kidding me?"

"What, did I ruin your date?"

"Date?" you scoff, shaking your head. "That wasn't a date."

"Uh-huh, right," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Me?" she scoffs, stepping forward.

"Yes, you!"

"You're the one who's being difficult here, y/n. Not me." she retorts, setting her drink down on a nearby table.

"How am I being difficult? All I've done is try and do the project. I've put up with all your shit."

"Forget about the stupid project! This is about us."

"There is no us," you shout, jabbing your finger into her chest.

"I know you don't mean that."

"You're unbelievable," you grumble, pushing past her, up the stairs.

"Don't walk away from me," she demands, chasing after you.

"Leave me alone, Bada."

"No," she protests, reaching for your wrist.

You stop, turning around. "I told you to stop," you yell, shoving her away.

"I'm not going anywhere," she warns, her eyes narrowed.

"God," you groan, massaging your temples. "You're impossible."

"And you're being a coward," she snaps.

"Coward?"

"You're avoiding me," she states, her voice steady and calm.

"Maybe I am," you fire back.

"Why?"

"Because, you're exhausting," you explain, throwing your hands up.

"Exhausting," she echoes.

"Yes, exhausting," you affirm. "I can't stand you, Bada. You're arrogant and conceited and-"

"You want me," she interjects, her voice barely above a whisper.

"W-what?"

"You. Want. Me," she repeats, each word slow and deliberate.

"I-I..." you stammer, rendered mute. You were not prepared for this level of confrontation. This is not how you expected tonight to go in the slightest. You couldn't tell Bada you wanted her, even if you did. And, now, you know you do. More than anything. You've been wanting her for so long. But it's not like she wants you back in the same way.

"Tell me that I'm wrong."

"Bada, I—"

"Tell me that I'm wrong, and I'll never bring it up again."

You open your mouth to speak, but the words die on your tongue.

"See," she laughs, though there's no humor behind it.

"Shut up," you murmur, massaging your forehead.

"No," she defies, stepping closer.

"You're so annoying," you complain, turning around.

She follows you. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know," you answer truthfully, stomping further up the staircase.

"Y/n," she pleads, grabbing your arm. "Just tell me that I'm wrong."

"Bada, let it go."

"Tell me," she begs.

You turn around, infuriated, your veins pulsating. "What is the point of this? Do you just want me to tell you that I want you so that you can feel good about yourself?"

"The point of it is that I like you, y/n! I really, really, like you. And you keep pushing me away! Why?" She exclaims, throwing her hands up.

You can feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you're too angry to care. Bada's confession should give you some solace, but it only makes the ache in your chest stronger. You need to get out of here. Get away from her. You can't deal with this anymore. You can't take it. She's too much. She doesn't understand. She doesn't know how badly it'd wound you if things didn't work out. If she ended up hurting you. Or worse, forgetting about you.

"Because," you pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling, attempting to calm yourself down. “I don't want to get hurt."

“Y/n," she says gently, stepping forward.

"Don't," you warn.

"I would never hurt you," she reassures, her hand cupping your cheek.

You stare into her eyes, searching for any trace of dishonesty, but find none.

"I would never intentionally hurt you," she corrects, a sad smile on her face.

"Bada," you mumble, her hand warm on your skin.

"I know you're scared," she continues, her voice soft and soothing. "But I promise, I'll take care of you."

"Bada, you don't understand," you argue, stepping back.

"Then help me understand."

"I..." you trail off, unsure of how to continue. "I like you. I like you a lot. But I just cant stop thinking about that whole roommate situation. And...I heard you say something in the locker rooms one day when I was visiting Lusher."

Her eyebrows furrow. "What'd you hear?"

"You said that you didn't want to me. At all," you explain, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"Oh, y/n," she sighs. "That's not true."

"What?"

"I've liked you for a long time. Probably since I first saw you. That's actually why I switched rooms. I didn't think you'd be into me, and I was afraid of rejection, so I ran away," she confesses, her gaze cast downward.

"Bada," you breathe, shocked.

"But I'm done being scared. And I'm tired of running," she declares, looking back up.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I'm not going anywhere," she promises, taking your hands.

"Bada, are you sure? This is a lot."

"I've never been more sure about anything," she states, her tone firm. "But are you going to stop running too?"

"Bada, I—"

"Please, y/n. Take a chance on me." she requests, squeezing your hands.

Was the risk worth it? Were you willing to put your heart on the line? Would she keep her promise and not break your heart? The questions flood your mind, threatening to overwhelm you. But, when you look into her eyes, the answer is a clear yes. Because, really, now that everything was on the table, when did she ever give you reason to doubt her? When did she not deliver? Maybe it was time for you to have some faith in her, just like she has faith in you, right now.

You exhale. "Okay," you relent.

"You will?"

"Yes,” you nod, vigorously. “Let’s give this a try."

"Yay!" she exclaims, pulling you into a hug. You laugh, wrapping your arms around her waist.

"I'm sorry I've been such a jerk. I felt so awkward and shy around you, I didn't know what to do" she apologizes, burying her face in the crook of your neck.

"It's okay," you say, running your hands along her back.

She removes herself from the embrace, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. She studies your face, her eyes roaming over your features.

"Can I kiss you?" she questions, her thumb caressing your cheek.

"I guess so," you shrug, feigning nonchalance with a sly smile on your face. Deep down, you've been waiting for this moment since the day the two of you met. You've dreamed about what it would feel like, how her lips would taste. You've thought about it while lying awake in bed at night, while doing homework. It's a constant, nagging thought. Her face draws closer to yours, and your eyelids flutter closed. You feel her breath fan across your lips. Your heart beats rapidly. Then, finally, her lips meet yours, and everything else fades away. It's like nothing you've ever experienced before. It's tender and passionate, sweet and perfect. You wrap your arms around her neck, deepening the kiss. As she holds you in her arms, your fears disappear, and a new feeling takes their place. A feeling of warmth, safety, happiness—more than that. When you part, the both of you are breathing heavily. Her eyes are wide, filled with wonder. You're sure your expression mirrors hers. Neither of you say a word. Instead, you just stand there, drinking in each other's presence. You're not sure how long you stay like that.

Eventually, she lets out a soft chuckle, breaking the silence. "Was that okay?" she asks, biting her lip.

"Yes," you confirm. "More than okay."

"Good," she beams, pecking your lips. "Want to go back downstairs?" she offers.

"Actually, can we go to my place? Lusher will be gone," You suggest, hoping she catches the hint. You can't help but glance at her lips. You're eager to have her all to yourself. To be alone with her. To do whatever the two of you want. If the blush creeping up her cheeks is any indication, she knows exactly what you're insinuating. She nods, and the two of you descend the stairs, hands intertwined. She stops to grab her jacket, and once the two of you make it outside, the crisp, night air hits you. It's cool, and refreshing. As the two of you begin your walk to the apartment, she leans in, her shoulder brushing against yours. The contact sends a shiver down your spine. You can't believe how close the two of you are. How intimate it feels. It's a welcome change from the distance you've forced upon the two of you for the past few weeks. A small part of you is afraid. But a larger, stronger part of you is excited. Excited to explore this newfound intimacy, and whatever may lie ahead. And for the first time in a while, you feel genuine hope.

"Here," she offers, draping her jacket over your shoulders.

"Thank you," you murmur, wrapping it around yourself.

The two of you hop in Bada's car, the engine purring to life.

"You cold?" she asks, turning the heater on.

"Yeah, a little," you admit, rubbing your hands together.

"Here," she offers, taking your hands in hers. You look down, watching as she runs her thumbs over your knuckles. "Better?"

"You're cheesy," you tease, rolling your eyes. Though secretly, her touch does make you feel warmer. Better. It makes your heart swell with affection, and the corners of your mouth turn up. It's like her presence is melting the ice surrounding your heart.

"I like cheesy," she counters, grinning.

"I'm lactose intolerant," you retort.

"Oh, no," she pouts, feigning concern. "Guess I'll have to come up with some other way to make you happy."

"I can think of a few things," you flirt, giving her a coy smile.

She just smiles, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. After what feels like an eternity, the two of you pull up, and Bada turns the car off. She hops out, making her way to the passenger side door, opens it, and extends her hand. You take it, and allow her to lead the way. The two of you climb the steps to the apartment, tension growing thick. Once you reach the front door, she lets go of your hand. You immediately miss the contact, and your heart rate picks up. You unlock the door, and step inside. She follows behind you, closing the door and locking it for you.

"It's freezing," Bada says.

"Yeah, sorry," you say, closing the door. "The heating's broken. It should be fixed by tomorrow, though."

"It's fine," she assures, wrapping her arms around you from behind.

You lean back, savoring her warmth. You've fantasized about this more than you'd like to admit.

"Bedroom?" she whispers, kissing your temple.

You nod, tugging her through the apartment and into your bedroom. Bada shuts the door, and you turn to her, staring into her eyes.

"Hi," you whisper, placing a hand on her chest.

"Hi," she whispers back, placing her hand over yours.

You lean in, brushing your lips against hers. She reciprocates, capturing your lips with hers. Her hands slide down to your hips, pulling you closer.

You tilt your head, deepening the kiss. Your hands move to her hair, tugging lightly.

She moans into your mouth, her grip tightening on your hips.

You pull back, gazing into her eyes.

"You're so pretty," she murmers, her thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

"So are you," you counter, smiling.

She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours. The two of you stay like that for a moment, drinking each other in. Finally, you pull back, grabbing her hand. You shove her onto the bed, and then fall on top of her, your legs straddling her hips.

"Hey," she giggles, wrapping her arms around your waist.

"Hey," you reply, a smile on your face.

"You're so annoying," she says, leaning in.

"And yet, you're here," you point out.

She ignores this, deciding to press a kiss to your lips, her fingers moving up your back. You sigh into her mouth, your body relaxing against hers. She slides her tongue into your mouth, eliciting a moan from you. Her hands move to your ass, squeezing. You roll your hips, grinding against her. She groans, her grip on your ass tightening. She sits up, her lips never leaving yours. She scoots back on the bed, her legs spread, and you sit between them, still straddling her.

"You're such a tease," she says, her voice husky.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask, smirking. "How's this for a tease?"

You slip your hand under her shirt, tracing circles on her stomach, her abs. You can tell she's not wearing a bra.

"I don't know," she sighs, her head falling back. "Keep going, and we'll see."

You lean down, peppering kisses along her jawline. She tilts her head, giving you better access. You suck on her pulse point, her breath hitching.

You move lower, kissing and sucking her neck.

She groans, her hand tangling in her hair. You smirk at this, trailing kisses down her chest. You unbutton her shirt, exposing her breasts. You take a nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the stiff peak. She lets out a string of curses, her grip on your hair tightening. You give her other nipple the same attention, relishing the noises coming from her. You trail your hands down her sides, settling on her thighs.

You're about to give her a command when, suddenly, she stops you, pushing your head away.

Before you can protest, she grips onto your waist and flips you over. You let out a squeak of surprise.

She stares down at you, a smug grin on her face.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice breathy.

"What am I doing?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow. "I'm getting revenge."

"Revenge?"

"Yeah," she replies, her hand snaking its way up your shirt. "For teasing me."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

She pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "I think I'm going to start with..."

She trails off, her gaze focused on your pants.

"What are you—" you're cut off by her hand moving to the button of your pants, undoing it.

She slides the zipper down, revealing the lace of your underwear.

"Nice," she murmurs, a grin on her face.

You're about to reply, when she moves her hand beneath the fabric, cupping you.

"Oh," you breathe, your hips bucking into her touch.

She begins rubbing slow circles on your clit, causing you to writhe underneath her.

"You're so wet," she states, her fingers picking up speed.

"All for you," you manage to get out, your breath ragged.

"That's what I like to hear," she says, slipping a finger inside you.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, your back arching.

She adds another, long, finger, stretching you.

"You're so tight," she marvels, pumping her fingers in and out.

You moan, grinding against her hand. She curls her fingers, hitting that sweet spot inside you.

"F-fuck," you curse, your walls clenching around her digits.

"Such a dirty mouth," she scolds, adding a third finger. She moves her mouth to your neck, her teeth scraping against the sensitive skin.

You pant, your toes curling as her pace increases. She hums in response, her fingers curling inside you, her thumb pressing against your clit.

"Fuck, Bada," you moan, gripping onto her wrist.

"You close, baby?" she asks, her breath hot against your neck.

"Y-yeah," you stammer, your hips meeting the movements of her fingers.

"Gonna cum," you mumble, your vision blurry.

"Mm-hmm," she nods, her gaze intense.

"Fuck," you cry out, and as your climax approaches, she removes her hand, leaving you frustrated and empty.

"Bada," you gasp, panting. "What the fuck?"

"I'm not finished with you," she states, a mischievous grin on her face.

"I wasn't either," you pout.

"We'll see about that," she teases, her hands moving to the hem of your shirt. She pulls it over your head, tossing it to the floor.

She gazes down at you, a hungry look in her eyes.

"Take those off," she orders, gesturing to your pants.

You oblige, sliding the rest of garment off and kicking it to the side.

"Good," she praises, a smirk on her face.

She stands, removing her shirt, pants, and boxers, her toned body exposed. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of her. She crawls on top of you, her body hovering over yours. She kneels in front of you, her fingers ghosting over your skin.

"So, you gonna finish what you started?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," she says, a glint in her eye. "I might."

She kisses you, her lips soft and pliant. You part your lips, allowing her tongue to slip into your mouth.

"Bada," you groan, tangling a hand in her hair.

"What is it, baby?" she murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip.

"Need you," you whisper, your hips bucking into hers.

"What do you need?" she breathes, her hand ghosting down your torso.

"Your fingers, your mouth, everything," you reply, a whimper escaping your throat.

"Everything, huh?" she teases, her fingers dipping beneath the hem of your underwear.

"Fuck, please," you beg, arching your back.

"Since you asked so nicely," she replies, her voice dripping with desire.

She ducks her head, her lips trailing kisses down your chest, her hands pushing your underwear down. You kick the last bit of fabric off, leaving you bare before her.

"Beautiful," she murmurs, her fingers circling your clit.

"Ah, fuck," you moan, your hands gripping the sheets.

She sucks on your inner thigh, her tongue tracing patterns on your skin, her fingers never stopping their ministrations. She spreads your legs, her hands pushing your knees up, exposing your wet, aching center. She exhales, her gaze hungry. She places an open-mouthed kiss to your slit, her tongue lapping up your juices. You keen, your hands finding her hair.

"More," you plead, your hips canting.

"Whatever you want," she promises, her fingers digging into your flesh.

She dives in, her tongue flicking across your clit, her nose brushing against the sensitive nub. You cry out, your body writhing beneath her. She wraps her lips around your clit, sucking hard. Your toes curl, and a low, guttural moan escapes your throat. She hums in response, her eyes boring into yours. She presses a finger to your entrance, her tongue continuing its assault on your clit.

"Please," you rasp, your breathing ragged.

She enters you, her digit pumping in and out.

"F-fuck," you swear, your head rolling back.

She adds a second finger, her tongue swirling around your clit.

"Bada, I'm close," you warn, your walls tightening.

She hums, her fingers curling inside you, her mouth closing over your clit, sucking hard, and you chant, your hands tangled in her hair.

Your climax crashes into you, and you cry out, stars exploding behind your eyelids. She works you through it, her fingers coaxing every last drop of pleasure from you.

You pant, your body trembling. She smirks, pulling her fingers out of you.

"Tired already?" she teases, wrapping her arms around you.

She grins, capturing your lips with hers, and you can taste yourself on her tongue. You melt into the kiss, your arms encircling her.

"Get some rest," she suggests, pulling away.

You pout. "But what about you," your gaze trailing down her naked form.

"I'm fine, we'll continue this another time," she reasons, kissing your temple.

"Fine," you relent, cuddling up to her and nuzzling her neck.

She rests her chin on top of your head, her hand gently rubbing your back.

"I'm really glad we met," you murmur, the exhaustion finally catching up with you.

"Me too," she replies, kissing the top of your head.

"You're gonna stay the night, right?"

"Of course," she affirms, giving you a squeeze.

"Good," you mumble, drifting off.

You smile, listening to the sound of her heartbeat, your eyelids growing heavy.

She whispers something that you can't quite hear, but before you can ask her what it is, sleep overtakes you.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You wake up the next morning to find Bada fast asleep beside you. You roll over, facing her. She's on her back, one arm draped over her stomach, the other above her head. She's snoring lightly, her features relaxed. You try not to coo at how adorable she looks, and instead, get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom.

You take a quick shower, and then put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. When you walk back into the bedroom, Bada's sitting up, her phone in her hand.

"Morning," you greet, crawling onto the bed and sitting next to her.

"Morning," she replies, her gaze focused on her phone.

"What are you looking at?"

"The news. Look,' she answers, handing her phone to you.

You read the headline.

'Improved conditions for the girls' basketball team after protests'.

"Oh, wow," you say, surprised.

"Yeah," she smiles, taking her phone back.

"Our project is kind of fucked now," you realize.

"Nah, it'll probably be fine. We'll just talk to the professor about it," she assures, putting her phone on the nightstand.

"What time is it, anyway?"

"12:30."

"Really? I thought it was earlier," you state.

"Well, we didn't get much sleep," she teases, a grin on her face.

"I wonder why," you reply, rolling your eyes.

She smiles wider and gives you a peck on the cheek. You laugh, her lips tickling you, your heart overflowing with joy. You felt like you were dreaming. Speaking of which, you suddenly remembered what she had whispered to you last night.

"Hey," you say, gently pushing her off of you.

"What's up?"

"Last night, right before I fell asleep, you said something," you start, trying to remember exactly what it was.

"Oh," she laughs, a blush forming on her cheeks.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, just... nothing," she says, shaking her head.

"Bada," you urge, poking her side.

"Ugh, fine," she sighs, running a hand through her hair. "I, uh, I said I love you."

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "What?!" you gasp,

Her face flushes with embarrassment. "I know, it's stupid, and you don't have to say it back or anything, but I-,"

"Bada, shut up," you interrupt, pressing a finger to her lips.

"Huh?"

"I love you, too," you reveal, smiling.

"R-really?" she splutters, gazing at you in astonishment.

"Yes," you chuckle, kissing her forehead.

"Wow," she whispers, staring into the distance.

You laugh. "What, did you think I wouldn't say it back?"

"Well, I didn't really know," she admits, scratching her head.

"Of course I do," you insist, cupping her face.

She stares at you, her eyes wide. You stare back, your thumbs caressing her cheeks. Your heart swells as you smile at her, and her lips tug up into a smile. There's something so endearing about the way her eyes sparkle, her skin glows.

Then, she pounces on you, showering you in kisses.

"Hey, stop!"

"No," she giggles, her lips trailing down your jawline.

"Bada, seriously," you laugh, trying to push her off.

"Nope," she declares, her hands roaming under your shirt.

"Oh, my God," you sigh, giving in to her affection.

You hold her close, your arms wrapped around her. As she's getting increasingly handsy, you hear the door slam open.

"Okay y/n, TIME TO WAKE UP! I cannot believe you left the party without-" Lusher stops in the doorway, gasping as she lays her eyes on the scene before her.

"Fuck," you curse, scrambling out from under Bada and falling onto the floor.

"Oh god," Bada mutters, standing up.

"Lusher, please-"

"Bada?!" Lusher screams, her eyes wide. "Oh! My! God! How did this happen? Wait."

You groan. Here we go. "Lusher, please let us enjoy our-"

"God I'm glad you two finally got together. I was sooo tired of hearing you two mope about how into each other you were. It's about time, seriously."

"Lusher."

"Sorry, you know, I had weird premonition when I fell asleep that you guys hooked up, but I wasn't sure. Guess I'm a psychic," Lusher exclaims, giddily.

"Lusher."

"Okay, well, I'm glad it's true. And also, I'm very happy for you. Anyway, I'm going to go now," she announces, backing out of the room.

"Thanks, Lusher," Bada laughs.

"No problem. Also, by the way, I'm going to be a bridesmaid at the wedding."

"LUSHER."

"What? Okay, I'm going, I'm going. Bye!" she shouts, shutting the door.

"Oh, my God," Bada mutters, sitting back on the bed.

"Yeah," you agree, crawling back onto the bed and plopping next to her.

"She's a character."

"That's an understatement," you laugh.

"Anyway," Bada continues, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Wait, what are you-,"

She pins you down, a smirk on her face. "Back to what we were doing!"

To Lusher's dismay, you and Bada spend the rest of the day locked away in your room, the two of you only coming out to grab snacks. And you couldn't be happier with how everything turned out. You almost laugh, remembering how hard you tried to convince yourself that you didn't have feelings for her, how you didn't want to date her, how she was out to get you.

But now, here you are, your head resting on her chest, her arms wrapped around you, her body pressed against yours. It's a dream come true.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

#bada lee #lee bada #street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #bada lee fluff #bada lee smut #bada lee fanfic #bada lee imagine

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anton-luvr · 7 months

Note

can you do anton x gender neutral reader where he picks you up from a blind date your friend set up for you and you got stood up and he comforts you and they kiss or whatever 😭 sorry if this it too much

# PROMISE.

𖦹 bestfriend!anton x gn!reader | fluff & slight angst | friends to lovers au 𖦹 note; tysm for requesting!! hope u like it hehe ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ + join my 100 followers req event here!

"It's okay, I'm here."

For the first time that night, relief surges through you.

When your friend set you up for your third blind date of the week, you had a feeling it wasn't going to turn out the way you hoped it would.

And sure enough, it didn't.

Thankfully, you had Anton to come to your rescue; he was at the restaurant your date stood you up at in ten minutes.

"I swear to God, that dude's a jackass for not even showing up." Anton huffs as he leads you to his car, opening the door for you. "Get in, I'll take you home."

Sniffling, you merely nod and get into his car.

The curly haired boy sighs as he gets into the driver's seat.

"You know, maybe you should stop going on these blind dates," he scolds lightly, putting his car into drive. "They're starting to take a toll on you."

You didn't want to agree, but he was right.

For the past few months, you had been going on blind date after blind date, just to meet weirdos or get rudely rejected, which left your self-esteem wounded.

But for some reason, today hurt even more than usual.

Maybe it was because of the endless months of loneliness stacking up against you, nights spent alone in your bed.

Maybe it was seeing all of your friends happy with their partners, a bittersweet pain piercing at your heart in wonders when it was going to be your turn.

Maybe it was the stupid delusion that things would work out this time with a complete stranger that your friend said was "nice".

"God, I hate this." you groan, right before bursting into tears.

Anton feels terrible to see you crying, and he quickly pulls over by the side of the road.

"Hey, hey," he says softly, rubbing your shoulders. "It's okay."

"It's not okay!" you sputter, tears falling down your cheeks freely now. "I try and try and try, but I never find someone! Am I that hard to love?"

A sob escapes from your throat and you bury your face in your hands.

Anger boils in Anton's chest, upset to see you hurt thanks to irrelevant strangers who didn't know your worth.

But he lets you cry it out, his hand never leaving your shoulder as he rubbed comforting circles.

"Feel better?" he asks gently, passing you a tissue when your sobs finally quiet down to sniffles.

You shake your head, eyes puffy.

"I feel like shit, Anton." you admit, leaning back against the headrest.

He sighs, softly wiping away a stray tear.

"Listen to me." he says firmly.

"You're one of the most hardworking, gorgeous, talented, funniest, and most caring person I've ever met. Don't let these stupid idiots define your worth. You'll find the right one for you eventually, I'm sure."

You smile sadly at his words, chuckling.

"Yeah, maybe after ten years." you murmur.

Anton scoffs, folding his arms.

"Go on a date with me then."

Your turn to face him so fast, you hear a small crack in your neck.

"M-Me? You?" you stammer, pointing at him and yourself.

Anton doesn't know where his sudden streak of confidence came from, but he nods and leans in closer.

"Give me a chance," he whispers against your lips, cupping your cheek. "I promise I'll treat you right."

It sounds like a line right out of a cringy rom-com, but the genuine sincerity and adoration shining in his eyes says otherwise.

Your heartbeat rings in your ears, thoughts flying through your mind at the speed of light.

Never in a million years would you expect to be face to face with your best friend, his lips just millimeters away from yours right after he asked you out.

Yet it all made sense.

He was always there for you, be it at your lowest or your highest. He knew you like the back of his hand, remembering your favorite coffee order and your favorite songs.

So without hesitation, you close the distance.

Now, you've always wondered what your first kiss would be like, building up all sorts of different scenarios in your head before you slept.

But kissing Anton right now was better than anything else you could imagine.

His lips were so soft against yours, his sweet cologne tickling your nose as he pulled you closer to him. The kiss deepens, and all the noise in your head silences.

It's still silent when he slowly pulls away, his lips swollen and slightly breathless.

"I promise." Anton repeats, sealing it with a soft kiss to your cheek.

It was such a romantic moment, until your stomach grumbling loudly interrupted it.

Your eyes widen, and the both of you burst out laughing. "I think my stomach likes your promise," you joke, slightly embarrassed.

Anton giggles at this, kissing you on the cheek again. "Let's get you some food then, hm?"

You nod as Anton puts the car into drive again.

As he speeds down the roads, he keeps one hand interlaced with yours while the other steers effortlessly.

"Do you want McDonald's? Or something like Waffle House?" he asks, eyes flickering between the GPS and the road.

"Anything is fine," you assure him, squeezing his hand. "I love free food."

Anton laughs, jokingly rolling his eyes at you.

"Anything for my favorite person in the world." he whispers, smiling at you.

"It's giving simp behavior." you tease, cheeks flushing red nevertheless.

He gasps dramatically, clutching his heart as if it was wounded.

"Okay, no more free food then," he declares, shrugging.

"Hey, I was just joking!" you protest.

He laughs again, slowing down the car as he starts parking.

"Alright, time to be a simp and get you your free food!" he announces cheerfully, turning off the engine.

You've barely taken your seatbelt off when he's already out of the car, running to open your door for you.

"I see that chivalry's not dead," you say, taking his stretched out hand as you step out of his car.

"Simp behavior, remember?" he boasts.

You laugh, holding on to his warm hand.

"My best simp."

#riize #riize fluff #riize angst #riize fics #anton #riize anton #riize icons #riize headers #riize moodboard #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop fics #kpop angst

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milf-harrington · 1 year

Text

inspired by @flashyysins

Two days after Hawkins was almost split open, Robin saw a woman pacing in the hospital waiting room.

There were plenty of other people as well, sitting or standing or walking the length of the room in a similar pattern, but there was something about the woman that Robin noticed. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, which she was- it's that there was something familiar about her.

She was in blue jeans and an old-school Hawkins High Letterman jacket, light brown hair twisted up in a claw clip. Robin had never met her before, she'd remember that at the very least, but still.

Something about the angle of her nose or the gentle waves of her hair felt like something Robin had seen before, something she'd be able to find in a crowded room or across a street.

But Robin had somewhere to be, so she shook off the odd feeling, and followed the familiar path to Steve's room.

---

"Hey Stevie."

Steve's smile was tired, but he was looking more lively than when he'd passed out in the waiting room the other day, so she'd take it.

"Robbie, you left me hanging yesterday."

She snorted and dropped into one of the chairs by his bed, swinging her legs over the arm rest and cradling the bag she'd brought with her in her lap. "You're the one who fell asleep during visiting hours."

He rolled his eyes, and she happily noted the colour returning to his skin. "You should be exempt from visiting hours, you're like...essential to my recovery or something."

She laughed to hide the way those words curled soft and warm around her heart, eyes stinging until she blinked it away. The dumbass had almost over-worked himself to the point of no recovery. "'Exempt?' Someone's been reading a dictionary- did one of your children leave theirs behind?"

"Oh fuck you-"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Robin was startled to see the woman from the waiting room hovering behind a nurse.

"You have a new visitor Mr Harrington."

Even knee-deep in confused intrigue, Robin couldn't help but dramatically mouth Mr Harrington over her own shoulder, pleased at the face he pulled in retaliation.

And then the door shut, and Steve looked up to find the woman-from-the-waiting room standing at the end of the bed.

Robin saw his brain grind to a halt at the sight of her.

It was silent (well, as much as it could be in a hospital room, what with all the beeping and whirring) as they took each other in, and Robin slowly brought her knees in closer to her chest like it would shield her from the vague awkwardness chewing at her.

And then-

"Fucking hell, Eve." The woman breathed out, white knuckling the bar at the end of his bed.

At the same time, Steve's face scrunched up as he demanded: "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean 'what am I doing here'? You're in hospital!"

"I thought you were in New York!"

"Yeah and then I got a call from Hawkins General that my little brother was dying in a hospital bed! Thank you for keeping me as your emergency contact, by the way."

"Well-" Steve spluttered and then crossed his arms over his chest, wincing at the pressure on his injuries. "Obviously."

Several things clicked into place like undone locks. Steve had almost been too comfortable about "feminine" topics for as long as she'd been an active member of his life- and even slightly before.

(He'd once run out of Scoops to buy her pads when she'd started her period in the middle of a shift. At the time she'd figured he was just trying really hard to beat the still a douche-bag allegations.)

Then there were the sweaters that he wouldn't confess to the origin of, the jokes he'd make about Robin "not being the only woman in his life" that she'd thought were about Nancy Wheeler, the vehement denial that the rom-com collection in the theatre room were his.

And, while Robin hated to enforce gender stereotypes, he'd always had the kind of mean girl cattiness that was usually only forged in teenaged girls and merely rubbed off on others.

Of course Steve Harrington had a sister.

Now Robin understood why she'd seemed so familiar in the waiting room.

"What happened to you?"

Simultaneously, Robin and Steve shifted uncomfortably, meeting each others eyes and coming up blank on both ends.

Steve's sister swallowed, jaw clenched and lip quivering as she look back and forth between them. She seemed suddenly fragile, like Steve after a nightmare, or right before he'd collapsed in the waiting room after carrying Eddie inside.

Steve cracked first. "Lou-"

"Don't fucking lie to me, Stephen. This is the third time you've ended up in hospital since your senior year."

Steve blinked, startled. "How did you-"

"I'm your sister." She seethed, and Robin could see flickers of Steve with an axe in his hand in the arch of her shoulders. "You might have told the hospital not to call but I still have friends in this town. If that Hargrove asshole wasn't already dead-"

"Lou-"

"Don't-"

"It was a serial killer." Robin blurted, drawing Steve's sisters' attention to her. "I don't now if you heard about it, but someone was going around killing teenagers. It started with Chrissy Cunningham- she was a cheerleader? kind of cute in a preppy sort of way, but, um- she was killed in our friends living room and then he sort of got blamed for it because, I mean, it was pretty sketchy but he didn't do it! I promise, Eddie didn't- anyway, there was this whole witch hunt, and two more people died which just sort of made it worse for Eddie and a group of us were trying to, like, clear his name, you know? Because we knew he didn't do it and we didn't want him to get killed next, but then one of our other friends - this girl, Max, she's a riot - she was being targeted by the real killer so we came up with this...really stupid plan to catch the killer but everything went sort of tits up and Eddie and Steve both got, well-" She waved her hands at the bandage around Steve's throat and the bruising around his wrists from the vines. "And Max, she broke her elbow and her knee when she fell, and I think Dustin twisted his ankle? So now Max and Eddie and Steve are all in hospital and Dustin has these crutches that he doesn't want to use but, I mean, Steve always makes him because it's Steve, and we don't really know if Eddie's okay yet but no one's come to tell us he's not so we're still hopeful-"

"Robin."

Robin shut her mouth, and took a deep breath through her nose. Steve's sister was staring at her in the startled sort of awe that Robin was used to seeing when she got going. She had the lungs of a trumpet player, it wasn't hard for her to talk until she forgot where she'd started.

"You fought a serial killer?" Steve's sister - Lou? - asked, and Robin hysterically felt like she should offer up her seat.

Steve, bless him, only nodded. Lou stared, lips pressed into a thin line and nostrils flared slightly.

And then, quite abruptly, she was straightening her back and stepping around the bed to hold out a hand to Robin. "Louisa Harrington."

Robin blinked, and shook her hand. "Robin Buckley."

Louisa nodded, like that made sense, and smiled the same cupids-bow smile as her brother. "The best friend- it's good to meet the other half of my brothers brain. Clearly the better half, considering you aren't the one in the hospital bed."

Steve made an offended noise, and Robin grinned.

#i've had this concept lodged in my brain since i first read flashyysins post #especially bc i am a little brother to an older sister so now it's Personal #anyway steve's sister (in my world) is named Louisa and their nicknames for each other are Eve and Lou #bc when she was little Lou would call him ''Stevie-evie-eve'' and it just slowly got shortened to ''eve'' overtime #and when he was old enough to know what nicknames were he wanted them to match so she became lou #and their parents HATE that they call each other that bc Lou sounds like a boys name and Eve is a girls name #and they're like ''get rekt youre never home anyway''#i've also decided that the person Karen Wheeler is talking to on the phone when she calls steve's house in season 1 #is his sister not his mum #anyway everyone meet louisa harrington she lives in new york studying classical music #she visits randomly and she and steve call each other fortnightly or whenever anything interesting happens #my writing #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #robin buckley

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 1 month

Note

Can we get another Jack champion x reader fluff or angst?

I hope you like this! It's a little short because I'm still trying to get used to writing specifically for him and not Ethan haha.

Where I Left You - Jack Champion x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jack breaks up with you, but immediately realizes his mistake, so he tries to get you back.

Contains: Angst, Fluff, I cuss in everything I write, sorry haha

A/N: I tried, y'all. lmao

When you got the text from Jack that he wanted to talk, you were so excited to hear his voice. When he answered, you didn’t hear his normal happy tone, his voice was a little sad as he started to speak.

“I think we need to break up,” he said, his words like a punch to your stomach. You couldn’t believe this was why he wanted to call you. “This long-distance shit is just so hard.”

“Jack, we’ve been together for almost a year…and now you all of a sudden just want to break up?” you asked, your voice starting to crack as you fought to hold it together. “You knew distance was going to be tough, but you said we’d work through it.”

“I thought I could. My filming schedule is just so crazy. It’s not fair to you that you barely hear from me,” he sighed, “I’ve only spoken to you for an hour in total over the last three weeks. I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve.”

You were starting to get a little frustrated. “I understood going in to this relationship that it wouldn’t be easy, Jack. Shit, I even got a plane ticket to come surprise you during the few off days you have next week.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, “Babe, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” you said, rolling your watery eyes, “I’m an idiot for being so excited to see you when you’re okay just dumping me over the phone. I guess this relationship didn’t mean much to you.”

“Babe-“ was all he got out before you hung up.

Jack’s heart was racing as he heard the beeping from the call being ended, the regret and guilt instantly weighing heavy on his chest.

“Fuck,” he sighed, as he tried to call you back. The call went straight to voicemail, his anxiety getting worse by the second as he thought about how badly he’d just messed up.

He loved you, he really did, but he hated that he couldn’t be what he thought you needed. His thoughts had been running crazy in his head for weeks, not knowing what the best thing to do was, but now that he’d ended the relationship, he knew this option wasn’t the right one.

Seeing your dedication to him and wanting to come surprise him during his off days gave him an idea, a way to try to fix his mistake. He got a plane ticket to come see you, hoping you’d give him the time of day once he got there.

You’d barely left your room for almost a week, binging rom-coms and hating how the couple always ended up together when you were so heartbroken, but you felt like you needed a reminder that not all relationships end in heartbreak. Even if it was all fake.

You had your phone on ‘Do not disturb’, seeing all of the texts, missed calls, and voicemails from Jack whenever you decided to check your phone. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say, because you were so hurt. How could he just give up on the relationship instead of just talking to you about it first?

You heard a knock on your front door, happily going over to open it because you thought it was the food you’d ordered. Your face dropped when you saw Jack nervously standing in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, noticing a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Can you please hear me out?” he asked, his eyes pleading with yours as he stood there.

“Why should I?” you asked, “You can’t just show up with flowers and expect me to want to talk to you.”

“I know I messed up…please,” he sighed. You hesitated for a few seconds, before stepping aside so he could walk in. As sad as you were, you missed him so much.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you said, as he handed them to you. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Us,” he sighed, “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Maybe the right thing would’ve been you talking to me before you made your decision to end things,” you said, sitting down on the couch, “because I would’ve told you how dumb of an idea it was.”

“I know it was. I knew the second you hung up,” he said, sitting down beside you, “I thought it was the right thing to do. How fair is it for you to have a boyfriend that can only talk to you for a few minutes at night before bed? You deserve so much more than that.”

“You think that, but you are what’s best for me. I love you regardless of if you have time to talk to me or not. I understand that you’re busy,” you said, as he nodded.

“I can’t believe I ever thought letting you go was the right thing to do. I love you so much…this has been the hardest week,” he said, as he started to get a little choked up. “I’m so sorry. Would you ever give me another chance?”

You started to feel your broken heart piece itself back together in your chest, but you were still worried that he’d just want to break up again, and you weren’t sure if you could put yourself through it.

“I don’t know, Jack. You really hurt me,” you sighed, feeling your eyes start to water as you thought back to all the different emotions you’d felt over the last week.

“One of the things you said during that phone call keeps replaying in my head…when you said the relationship didn’t mean much to me…that’s not true. I want this. I want to be with you. If you need time to think about it, I understand,” he sighed as he started to stand up. “I should probably go.”

He made his way towards the door as you stood up and followed him. Once you got close enough, you grabbed his hand. He turned around to face you, his chin quivering as he tried so hard not to cry in front of you.

“You need to stop walking away the second you feel like you can’t handle something,” you said, reaching up to wipe the single tear that slid down his cheek. “I love you. We can try this again, but only if you promise me you won’t dump me again.”

“I love you too, baby,” he said, as he leaned down to kiss you. “I see a future with you. I’m not going to fuck this up again.”

“A future, huh?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips as he nodded.

“This week wouldn’t have hurt so much if we weren’t meant to be together,” he said, as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him again. “I’m not saying I want to get married tomorrow, but just know that I want that with you someday.”

“I’d like that,” you said, “I can’t believe you flew out here. I’m sure you needed the rest.”

“I needed you more.”

#jack champion x reader #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic

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mazeinthemiroh · 2 years

Text

guardian angel

Pairing: Seonghwa x female! reader

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, slight crack, highschool! au, bad boy! au, happy ending

Word count: 3.8k

Requested?: yes

Warnings: cursing, a lot of cliche themes, mentions of smoking and drinking, elements of crack, potential sexual assault (doesn't actually happen), suggestive, wooyoung being his awesome self

Summary: Seonghwa is known for being a delinquent. Nothing phases, and no one messes with him. But there is someone who he is drawn to. Someone he can't quite keep off his mind.

Author's Notes: I had so much fun writing this you have no idea. It took way longer to write than I wanted but I need it to be perfect. This fic does have some mature theme so do be warned! Thank you so much anon for requesting this. I really hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think!! <3

The whole concept of having a guardian angel was comforting. intriguing, almost. Having someone watching over, protecting you, perhaps without you even knowing. That was a comforting thought.

Or at least for you it was. But in this compulsory religious studies class, most kids were seconds away from falling asleep. The teacher droned on with her monotone voice, flicking through the PowerPoint presentation, which looked like a half-hearted effort, put together last night.

Not that it mattered. No one was paying attention anyway, all except the handful of teens who wanted to get the best out of their mediocre education system.

"Silence please" the teacher mumbled weakly at the class. Poor Miss had no presence, no impact. The hard-working students, such as yourself, usually sitting in the front row, could usually hear her feeble voice. But they weren't the ones who needed to hear it.

"She said shut up!"

A voice with authority. Everyone collectively gasped, quick to close their lips now as they turned to face the principal, who walked in not moments ago. She was the one to be feared.

And yet there were still some people who just didn't fear her enough.

"You boys at the back" she snarled as she pointed over to the back of the classroom.

Ahh, the boys at the back. There's such a thing to be said about a high school's social hierarchy. It followed the same, cliche, stereotypical pattern as every American high school rom-com movie does. It is the same each time, each year. At the bottom: nerds, geeks, unconventionally attractive pupils, or just simply people who strive to succeed academically which for some reason makes you a loser. And at the top? Hot, rich mean girl gangs who absorb their power by thriving off the fear of the 'low-lives' below them. And, of course, the boys at the back.

"Why are you still talking? Did you not hear me the first time?"

One of them mumbled and snickered but it was hard to tell who. Or at least, for the principle it was.

It was quite clearly Wooyoung. Known for never knowing when to shut up, Wooyoung was the one to not understand when things went too far, or when a situation was too serious. And he was the one to get away with everything.

"Who's still talking?"

Wooyoung decides, the clown that he is, to turn to Seonghwa in this instance, with the usual shit-eating grin on his face, making it seem like Seonghwa was the accomplice.

"Was it you, pretty boy? To the front of the class now!"

Seonghwa glared daggers into Wooyoung as he reluctantly grabbed his stuff and got up to walk right to the front.

Even just walking through the class, you could see how much power Seonghwa would hold. Girls would giggle and swoon over him, whispering to each other about how good he looked today. Boys would cough awkwardly as he walked passed them, pretending not to be even remotely attracted to him. And the nerds at the front wouldn't even dare look at him. Especially you.

Which was typical because the only desk that was free at the front for him to sit at was the one directly next to yours.

So, as you screamed internally at yourself for not choosing another seat at the start of the year, Seonghwa settled down next to you, throwing his stuff on the desk and sitting back leisurely on his seat. he let out a long, dramatic sigh.

"Good. Now the rest of you need to get on, you will be tested on this!" Everyone let out a low groan at this, and then the principal promptly left without another word.

The usual rumble of conversation started up again. You stared downwards at the work in front of you, trying to concentrate on something, anything that wasn't the hot guy next to you.

"Hey."

Your heart stopped. Breath hitched up in your throat as you strangled on a previous inhale. Is he talking to me? You thought to yourself. Eyes wide with fear, anticipation, and excitement, you decided to do the unthinkable.

You turned towards him.

Never had it occurred to you that, not only was he talking to you, but he was looking at you too. So as you mustered up the courage to turn your head towards him, you were faced with two, large, deadly brown orbs staring at you, eating you alive by the intensity of his gaze. This was the closest he had been to you. And the bravest you had ever been to dare to take his features in this close. You couldn't help yourself. Eyes trailing along his smooth, tanned skin, jawline so sharp you were convinced you could cut yourself on it if you touch it. Jet black hair styled to frame his face so expertly; so precise was the wisps of his fringe, and although he kept brushing his hair back with his long fingers, the stubborn stray hairs would remain rested neatly on his forward. Perfect. Strong cheekbones, magnificently angled nose, luscious lips that hid a devious tongue.

And all this time you were staring at him. But by God did he stare back. Reality only hit you once you were done drinking in his features, savouring the human painting before you as if he was the last painting left on earth. You only blinked your eyes downwards once you were conscious and very much aware that your wide eyes and agape mouth had made his eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"Hi" was all you could muster. A feeble, pathetic excuse of a word that he could barely hear. He felt the corner of his lips pull up at your response.

"What are we actually supposed to be learning?"

You were surprised at his question. Did he actually wanna do the work? Or did he just want to talk to you? Or.. or... what was happening?? You blinked in response before clearing your throat.

"Well, today's lesson is about angels. You know, the different types of angels, and different religious interpretations of what they are like. Miss just finished talking about Guardian angels and-"

"Oh, I don't actually care sweetie," he chuckled lowly as you blushed ferociously at the sudden pet name. You suspected he was mocking you, but all the while his eyes held a warm curiosity as he continued to gaze at you. "I don't believe in angels or anything like that, tsk."

Perhaps he was passing the time. Making the lesson go faster for himself by making conversation. That's how you viewed it anyway.

"Why did you ask then?"

Your sudden boldness shocked you both, but you hid it well. His eyebrow quirked up with interest.

"I just wanted to that pretty voice of yours," he hummed, his tone a mixture of playful banter and flirtatious intent. It made your cheeks feel warm.

"Do you believe in any of this crap then?" He queried, suddenly looking away and taking a much more serious interest in his broken pencil, which he played with masterfully and with great skill between the fingers of his right hand.

You tried not to get defensive about his ignorant and outright rude attitude. Part felt that that's what he wanted. He wanted to lure you into a trap, an argument, and all just for his amusement.

"I like the idea of guardian angels," you paused to look away from him, your gaze sinking to your desk again, "having someone to watch over you like that... I don't know... the whole idea makes me feel less... less lonely."

That was your truth. This wasn't the first conversation you envisioned having with him. It felt a bit strange, a bit peculiar. Too deep too quick, especially with someone like him.

You expected him to scoff at this considering his previous remark. But you felt him gaze at you once more. He didn't tut, he didn't hum in response. He just turned away without another word.

That was the first time you interacted with Seonghwa. And you had a feeling, deep down, that it would be your last.

I mean, who were you kidding? You both guys ran in different circles. Had different lives, different friends, different... everything.

You knew this, and you knew this well. So why were you still thinking about him?

You felt he was undoubtedly out-of-your-league in all aspects. Looks, attitude, social status. Stuff that meant absolutely nothing to you but supposedly meant everything to everybody else. It was infuriating to tolerate these mindsets on a daily basis and yet you find yourself enduring and getting swallowed but the same expectations these mindsets create.

As you wallow in a stream of these thoughts you do not think for a second that the boy you now had eyes for - the delinquent who took a shine to you for reasons you could not explain - would be thinking about you in the same way.

But he was. And he hated it.

He wasn't a ladies' man like Wooyoung was. Wooyoung thrived when given attention from a pretty girl and he would do anything to impress them. Seonghwa was just not like that.

Rather, he preferred to flirt around, subtly. Throw a few winks here and there, biting his lip for too long as he made fleeting eye contact with as many girls as he could. He was quiet in his flirtatious endeavours, but he never really meant anything.

So he doesn't know why he starts feeling this way about you.

"What's the matter with you then?" Wooyoung nudged his friend, who seemed quieter than usual. The usual gang of boys met on the rooftop of the art building in their school. They would usually stay back well after hours, long until it gets dark. No one knew they were there, and jumping the gates was easy when they need to exit.

So that's where they were, vaping sloppily and drinking uncontrollably. The bottles of beers accumulated around the overflowing rubbish bin. It was surprising that no one caught on to their activities considering they were shamelessly loud, with zero fear of getting found out, perhaps because they got away with everything.

"Nothing, I'm fine," Seonghwa shrugged his friend off, staring down at the glass bottle in his hand.

Wooyoung isn't stupid. He knows when something isn't quite right. Better yet, he is persistent. Stubborn, even. Annoyingly determined to chip away at you until you crack. He gets what he wants.

"Must be some lucky girl for you to be thinking about her so much," Wooyoung teased as the rest joined in to chuckle. Seonghwa scowled at the boy, glaring at him in a way that would send chills to someone's heart. It was a shame that he was glaring at Wooyoung, who was simply brimming with audacity. Seonghwa knew better than to get into an argument with him, so he just kept quiet.

What Wooyoung said made him think though. Why was he thinking about you? Why you, specifically? His calculating eyes shifted from one object to another as he tried to pattern in his mind some sound reasoning.

Perhaps it was the way you looked at him. Well, other people stared at his face on a daily. He just looked so perfect. So absolutely stunning. As Seonghwa looked back he realised you had the same gaze and yet something different. It was obvious you admired his appearance, perhaps even shocked when seeing him up close. However, he recalled a certain trace of curiosity. Of excitement. And as you stared at his face like this, he didn't realise was studying yours.

Yet, there was something in the way you interacted with him; the spike of boldness that shot out of you was something he didn't quite expect. Most girls either stammer like idiots when trying to talk to him, or they screech and giggle and touch him playfully when he doesn't want them to. There's no in-between. So admittedly, he was caught a bit off guard by how you responded to him.

And he liked being caught off guard.

It had been a long ass day and you were, quite frankly, fed up. With your last lesson just finished you were so, so ready to go. Shoving your notebooks into your already heavy bag, you were stopped by the teacher.

"Y/N, I was just wondering if you wanted to join some extracurricular activities? It would really boost up your grades and would make your CV look excellent-"

Ah yes, of course. Here comes the lecture all the bright pupils get which guilt trip them into joining some weird club that no one goes to. You've heard this all before, and you weren't considering it now. It's a shame your teacher caught you at the wrong time because you were barely able to keep your eyes open from pure exhaustion as she spoke to you.

"Thanks Miss, but I've been really busy lately.."

You could see the disappointment in her face but you were so done with the day that you didn't even care.

"Just think about it, okay?"

Heaving a sigh, you slung your bag over your shoulder while the teacher left the classroom.

You knew one of the boys was still there, lurking at the back somewhere. The same group of boys always stayed back and you couldn't possibly think why. And you didn't dare to ask.

"Hey, Princess~"

You couldn't pin that voice on a face. It sounded familiar, but all the boys' voices sounded the same. Only Wooyoung's voice stood out the most since he talked so damn much. And, of course, Seonghwa's...

"You joining a stupid little club for your favourite teacher, eh?"

It was so petty you could've laughed. You turned around to face whoever this boy was, and his name escaped you. His name didn't matter to you regardless.

It unnerved you that he was by himself. Sure, having a whole group of them sneer at you wasn't ideal, but being alone with this guy after school hours made you want to run. But you didn't.

Your unamused face made the boy chuckle as you stared directly into his eyes. You wish you hadn't looked there, because surely you must have looked terrified by now; how he stalked up to you with confidence and intensity of a crow attacking a fresh piece of roadkill.

You stood your ground.

"No, I decided not to."

End of conversation. Done. Dusted. Swept under the rug.

Surely?

He was at an uncomfortable distance now, too close for someone you don't know. And even closer for someone you didn't want to know.

"Good girl."

You shivered. The dread built up in the pit of your stomach.

"Still," he mused, "a strip club doesn't sound so bad."

He had you pressed up against the table as his hands started for the strap of your vest top, a finger curling around it as he slowly started to pull it down. You were paralysed. Eyes wide with fear and disbelief and confusion. You should've run, you told yourself. You should've run you stupid girl.

"Get your fucking hands off her!"

There was a voice, familiar in its depth, but not so familiar in its intensity and rage. Both of you snapped your head over to find Seonghwa, his eyes emoting the most indescribable anger someone could ever feel.

"What the fuck is wrong with you man, let us have our fu-"

It was too late. A fist thrown to the face was enough to send the boy flying. He was weak as he crashed down dramatically into one of the desks. Seonghwa moved to him and kept going. Punch, kick, slam. The boy would be bruised for weeks.

But he ran off anyway, stumbling out of the class. The heavy footfall of his feet echoed down the hall.

You and Seonghwa stared at each other in silence.

His eyes were full of regret. Regret that he didn't stay behind with his 'friend.' Regret that he let you see this violent side of him. Regret that he wasn't there for you. If he hadn't come in at the right time-

Your eyes were filled with sorrow, vision clouded by the beads of tears that formed at the bottom of your eyes. You had felt so alone, so out of your depth and in danger.

"Thank you so much," you burst into tears. You grabbed him and sunk your head into his chest and sobbed into the fabric of his t-shirt. Holding him close into a feeble, yet certain, hug. It was not something you intended to do, but in the overwhelming situation you found yourself in, you felt you owed him the world.

So a hug will do for now.

"Of course he's out of the group, what are you even saying? It's no problem! He was a twat anyway."

Wooyoung sucked on his lollipop with such passion and vigour that Seonghwa thought he was going to inhale and choke on it, which admittedly would've been quite funny.

They sat by themselves on the rooftop, dangling their feet over the edge. They could see the sunset very clearly. It was beautiful. Wooyoung teased that it was almost... romantic! Of course this caused to threaten to push him over the edge for.

"You really pummelled him in though. He's got a black eye and everything. I never thought you were the type," Wooyoung said through slurps, talking with his lollipop still in his mouth.

Seonghwa stared at the sun ahead, its rays giving his face an ethereal glow.

"I don't care."

There was a moment of silence. Seonghwa's eyes stared ahead.

"I can't let anything happen to her."

"Why though?"

"I don't know. I don't even know!"

"I do."

"Huh?"

"You L word her."

Wooyoung chose this moment to flutter his eyelashes mockingly at Seonghwa.

"Shut up."

"You do!"

"That doesn't make any sense I don't even know her."

Seonghwa may have said this but, in his heart, he knew he was wrong. Deep down he knew you. He had watched over you, observed the way you talk, what your interests are, what classes you liked the most that make your eyes light up, and what classes you hated and never put your hand up in. All from the back of the class, he would peak every now and then just to make sure you were okay. Like a guardian angel-

"Maybe you want to know her."

Seonghwa looked at his friend with an eyebrow quirked.

"How does your eyebrow not hurt from you doing that so much I will never know..."

"You're a pain in my ass, Wooyoung."

Seonghwa chuckled and gazed at Wooyoung fondly. It was nice having a friend like him to talk to about anything. Wooyoung can be crazy at times but he always has his back, that's for sure.

"Don't worry, I got this for you."

Seonghwa scrunched up his face in confusion.

"Wait wha-"

"Shhh, don't worry. I have an idea~"

"Not another one of your crazy-ass ideas."

"Don't worry. You're gonna love this one!"

The end of the day on the last day of term felt like such a rush. Nothing exciting happened but you didn't expect much to begin with.

"Bye, I'll see you after summer," you hugged one of your friends goodbye, giving them a squeeze. It would be lonely without them for all this time, as they were going on holiday. There was a certain emptiness you felt at the bottom of your heart when you watched them walk away. You felt there was nothing to look forward to until they returned. It was a shame.

The hallway was starting to lull down with its usual chaos and students fled the school as soon as the bell rang. One by one, students disappeared until only a few remained around you.

As you fiddled with the keys to your locker, on opening it a piece of paper slipped out of it.

Your eyes sparkle with curiosity as you leaned down to pick the paper up. It was small and folded. Your fingers worked at opening it up, revealing slanted handwriting in black biro pen:

'Meet me on the art room roof.

~ Your Guardian Angel'

Your eyes glossed over now, staring at the paper. It was hard for you to examine what you had felt. It wasn't disbelief or shock or confusion. It was certainty. Relief. Comfort.

Smiling to yourself, you did as you were instructed. There was a quickness in your step, a skip of hope and anticipation as you marched to the other side of the school.

Up the stairs to the art classroom, opening the fire exit door and up some more stone stairs, cold and loud with each footstep. And up you were, on the roof, the sky now open to you with open arms as you were embraced by a warm breeze.

There stood Seonghwa, his slicked back hair shining in the sun. His shirt was untucked and hanging over his black trousers, and he wore his usual white bomber jacket on his back, which you thought, at this moment, looked like two angel wings. Perhaps you were romanticising, but it was his fault.

His back was to you as he stood near the edge of the roof. It was like he was posing, like he was in a movie and this was his action shot. As the drone camera circulates around him, getting a 360 cinematic shot of him, his face would be revealed as daring, determined eyes shining in his passion. That's what you had imagined.

"Is this my guardian angel?"

There was no movement when he heard your voice. You expected him to turn around but maybe he had other plans. Maybe he wanted you to come to him. On debating about it in your mind, you decided to give in, shuffling closer until you were right beside him, staring out into the distance just like he did.

"I don't believe in that crap, you know that."

This statement didn't hurt you. His voice was soft, playful, almost melodic. There was a purposeful gentleness about his words in which no man had ever spoken to you before.

A silence was shared between you both, and you couldn't discern whether it was awkward or just simply... was.

"But I like the idea of it," he continued. "The whole idea makes me feel less... lonely."

You recognised your own words that you had said to him before, and suddenly the bubbling sensation of hope erupted in your heart.

He turned to you with a fond smile, and at that moment your eyes connected. You had never felt so at ease when gazing into someone's eyes before. Seonghwa had a warm reassurance that no one could quite match.

Pulling you close to him, he embraced you gently, head atop yours as you both gazed out at the view together. It felt so intimate, like you had both shared a secret, that could never be told to another soul. It felt safe, comfortable. It just felt right.

Secure in his arms, shielded, protected: that's where Seonghwa wanted you to be, always.

1K notes · View notes

pandorascripts · 1 year

Note

Hey I love your writing style and was wondering if you could write Wednesday Addams x a reader who’s a Gym Rat

Sweaty Kisses💋

Summary: Wednesday knows she likes you, and she knows you like her. It’s only a matter of courage, and the perfect rom-com setting.

pairing: wednesday x fitnessjunkie!fem!reader

warnings: nothing just fluff :)

note: thanks for the request! I had an idea like this a bit ago and wrote it into my note document w other ideas, this gave me the shove to write it! thank u sm :)) also to the other person who sent in the request for another yandere wednesday, it’s like 3/4 done, just need the climax! ——————————

Wednesday’s typing stopped abruptly as you walked out the door. You had just finished showering and unfortunately for Wednesday, had zero boundaries, so out you came wearing nothing but tight a spandex and a clad sports bra.

A subtle glance to her right, and Wednesday was a mess. You’d been drying your hair off with a towel, abs on full display for all to see. Wednesday gulped, taking in a shaky breath before she continued writing. In this current chapter, Wednesday let her mind wander, righting down anything her mind came to. Unfortunately, Wednesday found Viper also fawning over a tall, muscular woman. Although it seemed Viper was getting the biggest score of her life.

In a fit of rage, she yanked out the piece of paper, missing the recycling bin by a foot. Thing scampered over, fixing her mistake.

She breathed in again, readjusting her posture, and continued typing the proper storyline.

You took a quick glance over to Wednesday, watching as her fingers pressed roughly on the keys. Looking away, you paced over to your cabinet, pulling out powder and milk.

You whistled whilst you worked, scooping one and a half cups of powder, before pouring exactly three cups of milk. You grimaced as the taste hit your mouth.

“If you do not enjoy the taste, then why force yourself to drink it?”

Unlike most people, you didn’t jump at Wednesday’s startling presence.

“Because protein is protein, Wednesday.” You smiled at her, leaning up and against the counter. Thanks to multiple threats to Weems, she’d agreed to give the two of you a make-shift kitchen in your dorm.

A confused looked graced your face as Wednesday’s eyes flickered down. You would’ve believed that she was looking at your lips, like every other rom-com scenario, but this was too low. You ignored it, marking it off as her staring at the floor. It truly was odd, Wednesday seemed to believe heavily in eye contact.

“Ridiculous.”

You tutted, tapping your fingers against the blue bottle. “You should work out with me some time.”

Wednesday looked up at you, severely unamused. “Why would I?”

You shrugged. “I dunno, for fun?”

“I don’t do fun.”

“You do autopsies. And you desecrate graves, and you make threats, and—“

“I’m going to stop you from that mess of a sentence.” Her eyes pierced through yours, an intense look over her face shadowed her usual deadpan one. “You need to find something other than working out. I can’t stand the amount of groaning and panting that happens when you do.”

A deep blush covered your cheeks. You tried to utter out words, but they died flat on your tongue.

“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding your head and bashful you ducking it.

Wednesday pinched herself hard, biting her lip as she did so.

“Thought you were still writing,” you said, trying to change the topic. Luckily, it worked.

“I was, I’ve seemed to his an impasse in my story. I decided to cut it short today.”

You nodded. “Makes sense.”

Wednesday’s eyes flickered down once again, and you watched as she pinched herself. She muttered something incoherent, clearing her throat.

That’s when it hit you. She was staring straight at your abs.

“Do — Do you want me to put a shirt on, or?”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“You keep looking at my stomach. Is it bothering you?”

Wednesday’s eyes widened in surprise. “No — No, you’re alright. It’s not a horrible sight.”

Your jaw dropped. Did you have too much protein or did Wednesday just… flirt with you? Your mouth bobbed up and down a couple times, before altogether dropping.

Wednesday sighed, her finger extending out and putting your jaw back up. She patted your cheek, her lip twitching slightly. As she walked away you stared at her retreating form in awe.

Holy fuck.

That was the only thought that rang in your head. Even as the night progressed, and Wednesday shut off the lights for bed, you laid up and awake staring at the ceiling.

Wednesday thought she’d broken you, and as much as that pleased a dark part of her, she didn’t want you broken just yet. She really didn’t mean to make that comment about your abs, it just slipped out. But, ever since she’d said that, Wednesday grew worried. It wasn’t the fact that you may be straight, lord knew you weren’t, it was the concern that maybe she’d crossed a line.

As Wednesday’s thoughts raced and passed through her mind, some of them thinking about your abs, other about your biceps, the biggest — and most recurring — one was the thought that maybe you didn’t like her. Although, Wednesday knew you did. She saw it when she swayed her hips just too much, your eyes lower than her head, she saw it when you shot heart eyes at her, practically drooling. It was also obvious in the sense that when she’d asked your previous roommates if you’d done that to them, they’d all say no.

It wasn’t a guessing game, Wednesday knew you felt the same. It was just a matter of courage.

Your arms shook as you raised yourself once more, a huff of hot air blew out of your mouth. Lowering back down, you took in a deep breath, shaking as you rose again. You repeated these steps once more, desperate to not give up.

“Are you going to give up?”

“N — No,” you huffed out.

It seemed as with every pushup you did, Wednesday’s presence on your back only increased.

“80,” she counted.

You rose again.

“81.”

Down. Up.

“82.”

With that, you stomped your foot and Wednesday got off you in an instant. You flopped down, breathing out heavily. “Still not good.”

A tut of disapproval echoed from somewhere in the room. “You got eighty-two push-ups with me on your back. That’s not at all a simple task. Give yourself some credit, please.”

A sheepish smile taped itself to your face. “Thanks, man.”

A glass clinked right in front on your face, which was smushed against the cold floors. A second later, a pink straw was plopped in there too. “Oh.”

Wednesday cleared her throat. “It’s imperative you stay hydrated. Dehydration isn’t a funny thing.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, busy trying to handle your blush.

Trying to not move a muscle, you opened your mouth, bobbing it as if the straw would come closer.

“You truly are a child.”

“A buff one.”

You may not have been able to see Wednesday, but you could practically hear the eye roll.

Then, black nail polish covered your eye sight and a moment later, the straw was bent into your mouth.

You smiled as you drank the ice cool water, goosebumps covering your skin. A content sigh escaped your closed lips.

Wednesday shivered before clearing her throat. She watched as you stood up, stretching and groaning.

You walked up to Wednesday, that stupidly hot grin on your face. You held out your hand, slapping it against Wednesday’s. She reluctantly slapped back, hitting the back of your hand before giving you a fist bump.

A giddy laugh erupted out of your throat, bubbling into the warm air. Wednesday watched as the world turned to slow motion. The sunlight shined through the window, highlighting your skin and casting you in an ethereal glow. She could’ve fainted at the sight. You towered over Wednesday, your hair perfectly set, some strands sticking to your sweaty forehead, others stray and wild.

“I’m go —“

Wednesday grabbed the back of your neck, bending it down so she could meet your lips. You stumbled over yourself because of her force, but you recovered soon after. You pushed against her mouth with as much pressure as she was applying, hands holding her waist. Wednesday leaned back, slightly craning her neck to the side before kissing you once again. Her free hand traveled south, lightly tracing your abs. Wednesday’s mouthed slotted perfectly against yours, and you couldn’t ignore the image of her with smudged lipstick. You shuddered out a breath, eyes flickering open as you pulled back.

Wednesday was the first to speak, not bothering to put any distance between you two. “You’ve robbed me of the one thing that was mine to control,” she husked out.

You breathed in, waiting for her to finish that sentence. You were hoping it was something good.

“My self control is no longer a gift, instead a short fuse that seems to go off when I’m around you.”

You grinned ear to ear, trying to contain it by biting your lip.

Wednesday’s hand came up, putting pressure on your bottom lip as she drew it out from under your teeth.

“I really don’t understand what’s gotten into me,” she spoke, staring intensely at your kiss swollen lips.

Her hands idly scratched along your abs, goosebumps rising in her wake.

“I don’t have that big of a vocabulary, Wednesday, so I’m just gonna sound like an idiot here, you’re really fucking pretty and I can’t think right around you.”

A low chuckle bubbled out of Wednesday’s throat. The sound wrapped around your ears, heart eyes wide and proud. Her laugh was like Heaven, enough to start wars over and drive men insane.

“You truly do have a way with words, cara mia.”

You drew in a sharp breath, releasing it shakily. “Do that again. Please,” you whispered, gently grabbing her hand and placing a kiss on it.

“What? The Italian?”

You nodded your head, absolutely head over heels for this woman.

“After you shower.” Wednesday placed a finger on your upper chest, gently pushing you away. “You’re truly a gift, but you just got done doing eighty pushups with me on your back. You’re coated in sweat.”

You laughed, smiling brightly as you walked into the bathroom.

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aylasology · 6 months

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Silk Chiffon

New girl!soft!reader, probably even fairy!reader but we'll never know. Also, Max cameo!! Reader is referred to as angel :)

Robin Buckley is down BAD. Shot through the heart. Completely enamored. Under Aphrodite's love spell. And it's all because of the new girl in town.

The new girl who always wore warm colors, the new girl with highlighters on her cheekbones, the new girl who rambled about movies and fairies as if she was one, the new girl Robin Buckley fell in love with.

In pink sandals, a white maxi skirt, and a pink graphic tee of Alice in Wonderland, she walked in Family Video a few months before. Gaining attention from the other girl so quickly as Max was seen swinging next to her. Max was talking about something, she's never seen the girl this talkative, but the angel who walked next to her listened attentively. Nodding and letting out small "mhm" 's as they walked through the store.

"Hi, how can I help you?" Robin managed to croak out the minute the two girls reached the counter. Max holding a copy of the princess bride. Taking in the angel's features, her cheeks blushed pink. She had to be an angel somehow, right? With her soft features and her soft smile, nothing seemed to rival the kind of beauty this angel possessed.

"Just ring this up for us please," she smiled, and Robin swore she heard angels hum through her ears as the angel's pretty voice sinked in. She felt her cheeks blush pink as the girl smiled. How is it possible that someone could be that cute?

She did as instructed, trying so hard not to acknowledge Steve's obvious teasing in the background. And that was how it worked every week. The pretty angel walking into family video to return and buy a new tape, Max swinging by her side. It was either some rom-com Robin would hear her babble about as she looked for it inside the store, or a horror movie Max wanted the angel to see.

And while Max searched the store for a new tape, the angel would stand by the counter, creating small talk with Robin. The angel would ask about movies, asking what genres she was into and Robin would answer in a heartbeat. The angel spoke in a way that was so comforting, a sense of peace coursing through Robin's veins that didn't cause her to stutter and panic.

She was a nerd, an introverted one but she was never ashamed of her interests. She was into mythology and fantasy, more specifically fairies and there was this sort of glint into her eyes and a sense of happiness when she talked about it.

And as if Max would be any help, everytime they'd meet without the angel, Max would only talk about her more.

"She lives in a trailer park next to me, and I swear she's so cool!" Max would babble, talking about the angel with so much excitement. "She talks about fairies and angels as if she was one!" she would add.

"You know she does seem cool," Steve would reply. "Why don't we invite her the next time you guys wanna hang out?" Steve added, nudging Robin as her ears perked up.

Her brain short-circuited, did she hear that right? They'd spend time with her? She'd be a part of their friend group? DID SHE HEAR THAT RIGHT????

And that was how they spent the next week after that, the whole gang hanging over El's house with movies and popcorn, all in pajamas for a sleepover.

"Gee, thanks for letting me crash your slumber party." She said with a smile as she stood by the front porch. She wore pajamas with little pink hearts all over it, a Tupperware with red velvet cookies inside. "I made these as a thank you," she chirped, her voice welcoming and comforting to Robin's ears.

She fit into the group quite well, smiling and nodding as they talked. She didn't talk much, and Robin felt that maybe all that talking was reserved for her. Who knows? Maybe she was just feeding her own delusions.

And as everyone dozed asleep on the couch, Robin was still awake, Steve's head resting on her shoulder. She looked up at the couch. The angel wide awake as she crouched by the corner. Knees bended as the other kids took up most of the space.

The angel looked at her, lips pursed to a smile as she noticed that she wasn't the only one awake. And before Robin could think, she said.

"You wanna get out of here for awhile?"

#robin buckley #stranger things #robin buckley stranger things #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley x fem!reader #aylasology #robin buckley x reader fanfiction #aylasology4robinbuckley!

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hoodharlow · 1 year

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Prologue: Let Me Make Your Night

AN: this part one of my enemies to lovers fic with Joe Burrow and a latina!OC. diclaimer i know NOTHING about football. i thought this white boy was cute and decided to write about him. and a huge thank you to @heavyhitterheaux and @nattinatalia for letting me bounce ideas off with them ilysm <333

Requested? No

Warnings: smut angsty ending

Word Count: 4.8k words

February 2022

Astrid looked at her dad’s text messages and rolled her eyes. Sometimes she’d forget how much of a die hard fan he was of the San Diego Chargers, not the LA Chargers. In his eyes they don’t exist and the Chargers stopped being a real team until the end of 2016. So the fact that she was at SoFi Stadium, where the team resides now, for the superbowl was sending her dad into a frenzy. She invited him to join her, technically his good friend Guy Fieri invited them, but her dad said no and to be safe.

“Astrid Romero, over here!” photographers yelled at her as she made her way to the box seats.

She smiled and waved before nudging her best friend to keep walking.

“Damn, you’re like famous, famous now.” Amira said in a teasing tone.

“Oh hush.” Astrid said, shyly.

Astrid Romero was an up and coming actress. She starred in the soon to be released drama ‘The Perfect Family’ for HBOMax alongside Mark Ruffalo, Kid Cudi, Noah Centineo, Eva Longoria, Benjamin Bratt and other known actors. It was her first big TV role. The tv show that got her really started was the three episode arc on FBI where she played the daughter of sicario that got kidnapped on her walk to campus and Maggie and OA had to find her so there wouldn’t be a terf war between the carteles. After that she had small roles here and there. Her first movie role was the year before when she starred in an action rom-com movie with Jacob Elordi and Aaron Taylor Johnson. A lot of people compared the movie to ‘This Means War’ but how it was better because it wasn’t as cheesy and predictable as the 2012 movie.

Acting wasn’t her original plan when she moved to LA. She originally planned to study biology at USC and become a doctor like her mom. After she finished her degree in 2020, she planned on taking a gap year before starting med school at USC. Because she needed a job to maintain herself in LA, she interned with her godfather at Food Network. Guy was friends with her dad and the family restaurant was featured on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives a few years ago and since then her dad and Guy just clicked. He sometimes is a guest judge on Guy’s Grocery Games.

Astrid mainly worked with the camera crew. It wasn’t until one day she had to fill in for Hunter, Guy Fieri’s oldest son, for an episode of Guy’s Grocery Games. Since then it was like she was hit with the acting bug and she needed to be in front of the camera. Thanks to her connections to Guy, she was able to book auditions and see what’s out there.

When she booked the movie with Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Jacob Elordi, she was nervous to tell her mom. Mostly out of fear of disappointing her mom that she was briefly going to Seattle for the movie because they had a plan for her to become a doctor. Fortunately for her, her mom was supportive of her and whatever she wanted to do. Both of her parents were very supportive of her and her three older brothers.

Her two oldest were fraternal twins, Gael and Gabriel. They were four years older than Astrid and her other brother, Esteban, was two years older than her. The twins followed their parents' footsteps. Gael worked as a chef in Hillcrest and Gabriel was doing his residency at UCSD to become a doctor. Meanwhile Esteban played in a minor league baseball team in hopes he'd get scouted into a major league team.

“J said Drake was able to add us to his list so we can go whenever we want.” Amira said, checking her phone.

“Okay, I just have to say hi to Guy and get a picture with him so he can confirm to my dad that we were there with him.” Astrid said as they entered the large room.

She spotted the blonde dip-dyed man and made a beeline toward him, making sure Amira was behind her. She greeted him and his family and got her picture with him. Astrid sent her dad the picture and linked arms with Amira.

“Is that Martha Stewart?” Amira asked, nodding her head at the older woman.

“Yes, wanna say hi?” Astrid asked.

“I don’t know. I never met a convicted felon before.” she said, feigning fear.

“Ay por favor.” Astrid laughed.

She pulled Amira to where Martha was and waited a few seconds to greet her.

“Hi, I’m Astrid Romero, my dad is Enrique Romero. My friend, Amira, and I just wanted to say hi.” she told the older woman.

“Hi,” Martha greeted them with both a hug and an air kiss on each cheek. She glanced down to Astrid’s nails. “I love your nails. They’re perfect for spring.”

“Thank you, actually Amira did them for me.” she said. She brought her nails up so the woman could see them better. They were clear acrylic nails, nude at the base, and hand small flowers all over for a spring theme. Her gold rings made her nails stand out more.

Martha turned to Amira. “You’re so talented.”

“Oh, thank you.” she said shyly.

Astrid excused herself and answered a text from her dad and left Amira talking to Martha. Amira walked over to her with the biggest smile on her face.

“Bitch, I’m doing Martha’s nails.” she squealed as they made their way out of the room.

“Shut up!” Astrid whisper-yelled. “I’m so excited.”

Astrid knew her friend was talented. Amira and Astrid met in their first year at USC. They were assigned to the same dorm. She ran a small nail business in their door to have spending money since her parents only covered her tuition, boarding, and other necessary school expenses. Just like Astrid, Amira got her degree, but didn’t pursue a career with it. After graduation she enrolled into cosmetology school and got her nail technician license. She has a decent following and worked from her apartment until she had enough to open her own nail salon. She also sold press on kits. Amira sometimes traveled with Astrid so she could do her nails for press and for red carpet events. Which was how Amira met her boyfriend, Jack Harlow.

In September Astrid was invited to the Met Gala by Tommy Hilfiger, who did the costumes for the movie she did with Jacob and Aaron. She brought out Amira and she did her nails in the suite Tommy got for everyone he was dressing. Jack spent the whole night asking Astrid about Amira, until she texted her friend asking if she could give Jack her number because he was annoying her. She said yes obviously and they’ve been together for a few months. Astrid also got a lot of compliments on her nails and she was telling them that her best friend Amira did them. From there Amira gained a huge celebrity following.

The second they entered, Amira and Jack were attached to the hip. Astrid awkwardly sat next to Jack’s best friend, who fell asleep before the game even started. She decided to get up and venture out after getting bored of doing nothing. She tucked her pass inside so no one could snatch it if they walked past her and went to the room next door that was selling team gear and superbowl merch. She decided to get a jersey as a memento of her first superbowl. Knowing her father would drop dead if she bought a jersey from any of the LA teams, she decided to buy a Bengals jersey. She liked tigers and 1998, the year she was born, was the year of the tiger.

"Good choice." Someone behind her said.

Astrid turned back and was met with a tall figure, showing him the jersey. "You think so? I only picked this so my dad wouldn't disown me."

"Dang and here I thought you liked the team." The guy said, placing his hand on his chest.

"We'll see how the game ends." She joked.

"Astrid?" Jack called from the entrance. He angrily stomped toward her. "Your best friend was about to call a search party. You can't just fucking leave like that."

"You two were swapping spit. It's not like I left the stadium." She said, pushing hair behind her ear.

"Next time take your phone." He said, pulling her phone out of his pocket.

Astrid took her phone, feeling slightly embarrassed that Jack was scolding her like a child.

"Jack?" The guy said, making his presence known.

"Yeah–holy shit Joe, I didn't recognize you. What's up, man." Jack said, reaching forward to give the guy, who apparently is named Joe, a bro hug.

Astrid waited a few seconds for Jack to introduce her to his very cute and tall friend, but the two guys fell into conversation. She got in line and paid for her jersey while Jack caught up with his friend. She sent him a text and returned to where Amira was.

"Where the fuck were you?" Amira asked in a motherly tone.

"Next door, getting a jersey." She said, taking off her oversized jacket so she could put on the jersey.

"Who did you get?"

"Not sure, I just picked number nine." Astrid said, folding the jersey so it looks cropped. She gestured down to her outfit. "Cute?"

"Yes, it's giving WAG supporting her man at the superbowl." Amira nodded.

"You think I can be a WAG?" She asked.

"You could be the Vanessa Hudgens of the NFL. Like people would know you and wonder how an NFL player was able to bag you."

Astrid laughed at her response. While they waited for the game to start, poses ranging from corny prom poses to thirst trapping ones. Amira's boyfriend came back and the pair went back to overdoing the pda. To keep herself busy she decided to look up the player of the jersey she bought. She stared dumbfoundedly at her phone.

She bought Joe Burrow's jersey.

That was the guy from the line when she was picking a jersey and began chatting her up. Then she went on Google because she was fairly positive that Jack mentioned him in one of his songs, the name sounded familiar. She was right and copied the lyric onto her Instagram post, adding a few pictures that she took with Amira. While she was on Instagram, she looked him up and without thinking she followed him.

"I can't believe Astrid fucking Romero followed you." Ja'Maar told Joe as they got in the sprinter van with all the other players. After their loss, the team was going to a private party hosted by Kid Cudi.

"Oh that," he shrugged it off.

In truth, Joe was over the moon. He didn't get a chance to get her name before she left the stand, but Jack said her name and he kept it on the back burner so he could look her up after the game. To his surprise, when he opened his notifications and saw people commenting his @ on her post where she used the line from Jack's song. He was even more surprised to see that she followed him. Obviously he followed her back and liked her post.

He was going to invite her to the after party but he felt like it was too forward since they only had a two minute conversation. However he found a loophole and invited Jack, telling him he could bring some friends, but to let him know who he was bringing to add them to his VIP section. He was relieved to see her name among the small group Jack was bringing.

When Joe and the rest of the team arrived at the club, it was in full swing. The dance floor was filled with people dancing and the bar was full. The VIP section Joe had was in the balcony overlooking the whole club. The club provided the team with unlimited bottle service and full access to the private bar in the balcony so they didn't go down where the non VIP guests were.

Joe looked through the bottles and excused himself to go to the bar. A bartender approached him and took his order. They handed him his drink and went to tend to other people, walking up to the bar.

"Is this seat taken?" Someone asked.

He looked up and saw it was Astrid, shaking his head. "It is."

Her face dropped. "Oh, I’m sorry."

"No, I meant that it is taken now that you're here." Joe corrected himself.

"Oh, okay." She giggled.

She took a seat as a bartender asked her what she wanted to drink. She leaned forward, allowing for Joe to take her in. She wore a short sparkly dress. There was a slit down her thigh, but it was fastened by two large, gold safety pins. It was loose-fitting but it knew where to hug her body. The club lights bounced off her dress, making her tan skin glow and the few tattoos she had shine. All in all, she looked beautiful.

"I'm sorry about the game." She said, crossing her leg.

Joe shrugged. "We'll get them next time.

"I know but as a new fan, I was a little sad my new team lost." Astrid pouted.

"I promise you next time we make it to the super bowl, we'll win just for you." He said.

"I'm holding you to it." She said, making him laugh.

Astrid and Joe fell into conversation. They were mainly focused on Joe and the teams he played in college. Joe was a bit hesitant about talking about himself because he was used to other people only pretending and not paying any attention to what he said. It was refreshing to talk to Astrid. She was a good listener and knew the right questions to ask him. He was able to relax with her and have a normal conversation with her.

'What a Feeling' by One Direction began playing and Astrid perked up.

"Do you wanna dance?" She asked Joe.

"Sure." He nodded. She could ask him to rob a bank and he would.

She placed a hundred dollar bill to cover their drinks under their drinks and reached for his hand. She led him to the dance floor. They stood off to the side, so they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves.

Joe was unsure where to place his hands so he kept them at his sides. Astrid brought his hands to her hips while she wrapped her arms around him. They slowly danced, swaying from side to side. For a change of pace the DJ played 'Bouncin' by Tinashe. This time Astrid turned around and pressed her back against Joe. Luckily this time around, he knew what he was doing. He gently pushed her down and kept his hand on her back as he rolled his hips into her ass.

The DJ was all over the place after the sing ended. They played a bunch of songs from reggaeton to line dancing. After an hour, or what felt like an hour, of dancing, Astrid and Joe made their way back to the VIP section. They ordered some water and sat back on the stools.

Joe's stomach growled loud enough that Astrid was able to hear it. He gave her a sheepish look.

"Sorry, I haven’t eaten since this morning." He said.

"I know this twenty-four hour taco shop. For being in LA they have decent Mexican food. Plus it's super low-key if you wanna go." She suggested.

"I would kill for a burrito right now."

"Lucky for you, you won’t have to." Astrid teased. "I’m going to tell my friends that I’m leaving. Do you want to meet here in five?"

"Sounds like a plan." Joe nodded.

They went their separate ways. Joe went to where his teammates were and told them he was heading out. While he waited for Astrid he ordered an UberLux. Jeff was showing up in five minutes in a Range Rover.

"All set." Astrid said when she came back.

She went down to the dance floor and told Amira and Jack she was leaving with Joe. Amira reminded her to share her location and if her plans changed to let her know.

"Let's go." He said.

There were paps posted and got a few pictures of Joe and Astris, but thanks to security, they weren't followed. Astrid wore a huge oversized jacket that she used to shield her face from the cameras. She also hid behind Joe's tall frame. They reached their designated Uber, Astrid placed her jacket over her so she wouldn't be photographed as paps took pictures of the car. Once they were a few streets out, she pulled her jacket off and fixed her hair.

The drive was pretty quiet. The Uber driver kept to himself, making small talk here and there. In less than half an hour the driver pulled up to the taco shop. The pair thanked him and made their way towards the door. Joe held the door open for them and let Astrid in first.

“Hasta que se aparece.” a cook from back told Astrid when they got in line.

“Tenía unas entrevistas en Nueva York.” She replied back to him. Astrid turned back to Joe. “Are you ready to order or do you need a minute?”

“Uh,” Joe lost his train of thought watching a server carry a plate of rolled tacos with all the toppings to a table. “What’s that?”

“Rolled tacos. You can pick from chicken, beef or potato. They come with lettuce, guac, sour cream and cheese.” Astrid explained.

“I think I’ll get some chicken ones.” He said. He looked up to the menu and read the drinks section. “And a Mexican coke.”

“Noted.” she said.

When it was their turn to order, Astrid ordered for them. She ordered five carne asada tacos and a horchata for herself. Joe was ready to pay, but she stopped him since he paid for the Uber. She got their drinks and lead Joe towards the back where there weren’t any windows, in case anyone walked by and recognized him. There was a group of tipsy young women sharing a tray of carne asada fries, laughing among themselves over some party they went to. They looked over to Joe and Astrid as if they were trying to figure out where they saw them, but they went back to their food.

A server came by with Joe and Astrid’s food a few minutes later.

“Do you want salsa?” Astrid asked him.

“I’m good.” He said, sipping his drink.

Astrid got up and went to get some for her tacos. She put some habanero salsa and salsa verde in the small containers and grabbed a few slices of radishes and limes. She was going to sit opposite of him but decided to sit next to him.

Joe was waiting patiently for her to come back so he could eat. He reached for a rolled taco from the pile and took a big bite. He groaned.

“This is so fucking good.” he said before taking another bite. “They don't have food like this back home.”

“They don’t have rolled tacos in Minnesota?” Asrtid asked him.

“Why would I know what they have in Minnesota?” Joe asked her.

“Isn’t that where you play?”

“No, Cincinnati is in Ohio.” He shook his head.

Astrid burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh that’s embarrassing.”

“You’re such a fake fan.” he teased her.

“At least the states were next to each other.” she said.

“Minnesota and Ohio aren’t next to each other.” he laughed.

“In my defense, the only states I’ve been to outside of California were New York, Washington,and Florida.”

“Maybe you can come catch a game in Ohio.” he said nonchalantly before eating another rolled taco.

“Hm, maybe, but Minnesota is looking pretty cool too.” she sipped her drink.

They ate in comfortable silence. When they finished, they sat there talking about anything and everything. The more Joe talked to her the more was interested in getting to know her. He studied her face, eyeing her lips while she drank her horchata.

“Is there something on my face?” Astrid asked him, reaching for a napkin from the dispenser.

“No,” Joe shook his head.

“Oh you were staring and I assume–”

“I wanted to kiss you.” he said shyly.

“Oh don’t let me stop you.” she said a little too excitedly, making him snort.

Joe cupped her face and he slowly leaned into her, capturing her lips. The kiss was slow like a test in the waters. Lust quickly took over as their kiss intensified. He held her in place with his other arm as his lips dominated her. She was practically on his lap now. Astrid whimpered into his mouth when Joe deepened the kiss. They pulled away, breathless.

“Wanna know a fun fact about this place?” Astrid asked him.

“Hm,” he mumbled in response, kissing down her neck.

“It’s a five minute walk from my place.”

What was supposed to be a five minute walk turned into a fifteen minute walk because they had to take five minute breaks with each step. Joe pressed Astrid into her door next to the car gate and leaned in to kiss her, but she curved him. She gently nudged him off, so she could press the code to unlock the gate to her condo.

Once inside her place, Astrid gently pushed Joe against the door. She dropped to her knees.

“May I have a taste?” She asked sweetly as she took off her jacket.

“I’m not gonna last, it’s been months since I had some.” He confessed.

“That’s fine.” she smiled.

She skillfully undid his belt and popped the buttons of his jeans. She slid her hand into his boxers and pulled out his cock. It was much bigger than she planned for, but she was committed to making him come in her mouth. She reached for her liga and tied her hair into a low bun. She pulled down the top part of her dress, revealing her chest to him.

She stroked him a few times. She pulled away and sat on her knees, still stroking him. Her eyes never left Joe’s as she leaned forward and took him in her mouth. Joe closed his eyes, enjoying her mouth on him. She quietly moaned, slipping him further into her mouth. She pulled away until she only had his tip. She swirled her tongue around his tip and slid down his length once more.

Eventually Joe opened his eyes. He was able to see Astrid play with herself through a full length mirror she had facing the door. He slowly bucked his hips to meet her mouth. She took him back in her mouth, bobbing her head, just as he came. He cursed a few times then moaned out Astrid’s name, as she swallowed every drop of his release.

“You’re unbelievable.” He said, reaching down to help her up.

“Yeah?” she asked him.

“Mhm.” he nodded, pulling her back into a kiss.

Without breaking their kiss, Astrid guided him down the hallway to her living room. Joe bent down and picked her up by the back of her thighs, carrying her a large beige couch. He gently pushed her down on the couch as he shedded off his clothes, only staying in his boxer-briefs. She laid on her back while he hovered over her. He gave her hips a gentle squeeze before he slid his hands up to her breasts. His thumbs delicately ran over her pert nipples as she melted into his hands. Joe helped her out of her dress and panties and tossed them to the growing pile of clothes.

One of his hands made its way back to her hips and lazily ran his finger tips around her core, sending her goosebumps all over. With the other, he balanced himself so he wouldn’t squish her.

Astrid gasped feeling his ring and middle finger inside of her. Joe pressed his thumb to her clit and sped up his fingers. She whined and placed her head on his shoulder.

“Eyes on me, Astrid.” He said.

She moaned as his fingers fucked into her at a deliciously slow pace. As if her hips had a mind of their own, they followed Joe’s fingers. In a matter of minutes she was close.

“Joe…” she gasped

“I know, Astrid.” He pressed his thumb against her clit and increased his pace.

“Sh–Joe!” She climaxed.

Joe’s fingers were still in her. He pushed himself up, hovering over her. He deftly rubbed her clit with his thumb as he made his way down her body. His mouth went straight to her breasts. He gently nipped under them, kissing her tattoos while his free hand was on her nipples, twisting and rubbing them. His tongue traced her pert peaks, egging her on.

Astrid whined loudly. She was so overwhelmed, desperate for some sort of relief. Joe chuckled. He pushed himself off her. Pulling her in a sitting position, he knelt down in front of her. He pushed her legs apart and smirked.

“Taste for taste?”

Astrid had no idea how they ended up in her bed or what round they were on, but she wasn’t complaining. She never been so thoroughly fucked. The most the guys she’s been with do is maybe give her an orgasm and if she’s lucky they eat her out before they fall asleep on her. It’s a complete 180 with Joe. Granted he allegedly hadn’t had some in months, but still he had lot of stamina.

“Oh, fuck, just like that Joe.” She moaned out as he thrusted his into her.

Astrid was riding him with her back to him. Her legs tucked under Joe’s thighs. She leaned forward and gripped the comforter in front of her for balance as she bounced on his cock. She felt him sit up and press his chest on her back. One his hands wandered down to her clit, slowly drawing figure eights with his thumb while the other played with her nipples.

“Fuck,” she managed to murmur before her climax took over. She repeated his name as she slowed her movements.

“You got one more?” Joe asked.

“Yes.” she nodded.

“That’s what I like to hear.” he grinned.

Joe pulled his length out of her and positioned her so that only her ass was in the air for him, so she wouldn't be on all fours. He knew she was exhausted from all those previous rounds. He knelt in front of her and aligned himself to her entrance, slowly pushing himself in her once more. His hands gripped her waist as he slowly rocked into her. As the minutes passed, his thrusts got rougher, and Astrid couldn’t hold back. She begged Joe to keep fucking her at that irritatingly slow and rough pace she loved. He leaned over, his chest against her back.

“Fuck.” Joe moaned out.

His lips kissed all over her neck as he continued to fuck Astrid. She rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts.

“That’s it, take me so good, Astrid.” He groaned in her ear. Joe shifted his hips as he thrusted into her. The new angle hit her in that spot that made her beg for him.

“Please, fuck—”

She pushed back rougher to meet his thrusts. He gripped her hips with one hand while the other went back down to her clit. Joe worked his fingers roughly as he pushed his hips into Astrid. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her sweet spot. Her quiet praises filled the room, egging him on. She quietly whimpered his name, lazily meeting his thrusts before her orgasm took over. Joe’s orgasm followed soon after. He cried her name and pushed himself deep inside Astrid, spilling every last drop in her.

He plopped next to her, careful not to squish her. He brushed her hair off her face.

“Was it good?” he asked her nervously.

“More than good.” she nodded sleepily.

They laid in silence, trying to catch their breaths. Eventually Astrid got up to use the bathroom and clean herself up. She washed her face removing the make up and Joe’s release from when he came on her face a few rounds ago. She exited the bathroom and found it empty. She figured that Joe went to get his clothes in the living room. But she heard a car pull outside her place. She pushed the curtains to the side to get a view and saw Joe get in the car.

Never in a million years did she expect him to leave so abruptly. Obviously it was one time thing and nothing was going to come out of their hook up. But she deserved at least a goodbye.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow oneshot #joe burrow imagine #behind the scenes

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ewanmitchelll · 4 months

Text

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (I): Cruel Summer.

Imagine it’s a modern world and you, such a good girl, fall in love with Aemond Targaryen. But worst is… he’s already taken.

Warnings: fluff; drama, light smut. Rom-Com vibes.

***

You are Helaena’s best friend since college when you took a few of biology’s classes for your course. A bound that now surpasses times, you are often seen around at the Targaryen’s household, an inheritance of Helaena’s father to her, which she shares with Aemond and Aegon, her brothers.

Initially, Aegon had taken a like of you, but by then you were in a relationship, so nothing came to it. However, now you are single again and trying not to get yourself involved in further relationships when cupid seems to play with you again.

How could you know, but an opportunity to travel with Helaena and Aemond came up.

“It’s summer”, Laena is telling you as you have just arrived for Aegon’s party. House is full and you are dressed elegantly for the occasion, but you two are outside because your friend is not very fond of noisy people. “We should travel to countryside. Do you want to come with us?”

“Us who, Laena?”, you tilt your head, sipping your champagne. “And when do you plan to go?”

“Me and Aemond. We don’t like these parties Aegon throw, you know. So we want to get away as soon as we can”, she gives you a mischievous smirk.

You raise your eyebrows. Aemond is the one with a bad boy fame, socially awkward, and whom you rarely had seen these years. Nonetheless, like Helaena, he doesn’t strike your as the type of not fond of partying.

“He’s just busy working with his PhD in Humanities”, she tells you when seeing your puzzled look. “So why don’t we take a break, eh? It’s not as if Aegon will get hurt if we do.”

“Okay… but when do you want to go?”, you’d think this is typical of Aegon to party hard and have his siblings out for the weekend.

“Soon.”

“How soon? I didn’t bring my clothes, I am not prepared to do a long trip”, you protest.

Laena, also enjoying her champagne more than she’d like to admit, waves her hand dismissively.

“It’s no big deal. We are sisters. What is mine is yours.”

Little surprised you are that she has such an influence over you. When have you ever denied her anything?

Knowing this, Laena beams and hugs you.

“You are the best!”

***

Dressed in dark green robes, walking unaffectedly, Aemond spots you and Laena giggling. He sighs, wondering why on earth he’d agree with his sister’s plans on getting away of Aegon’s party.

But then again, he loves a great escape, doesn’t he? Often the dramatic, as their mother likes to snort about.

When seeing you, he cannot help but noticing your curves, taking some time in admiring your cleavage. Then something comes to his mind and Aemond is forced to look away, although he captures a blush painting your cheeks which pleases him very much.

“Well, ladies? Y/N, nice to see you again.” He nods at you.

You feel so suddenly disconcerted that all you can do is nod back. Helaena, not noticing what had just happened, jumps in his arms, thanking him many times for this adventure the three of you are about to have.

You are still processing his gaze, noticing his alluring presence, when he takes you to his very fancy car. As you slide to the back seat, behind Helaena’s, you seem to forget how to breath.

Bad, bad boy. Shiny toy with a price(…) Devils roll the dices, angels roll their eyes.

As soon as he starts driving, every sound dies when Helaena starts to snore. Aemond sees through the rear view that you are uncomfortable so he decides to break the ice.

“Is everything well there?”

You spot a smirk dancing in those lips. And you blame on the alcohol for picturing yourself on his lap and kissing him fervently.

You clear your throat so you focus. Aemond is slightly amused by your awkwardness.

“I… Yes, yes, it is. I was just overthinking. A bad tendency of mine, I suppose.”

“What is it that you are overthinking about?”, he inquires you, possibly aware of the cause of it and instigating you to speak it…

“It’s a silly reason. I don’t often take chances like this, traveling out of the blue, completely unprepared.”

If Aemond is disappointed with the answer, he doesn’t let it show. But he chuckles, though.

“There’s nothing wrong with planning if you don’t forget how to live your life.”

You tilt your head, detesting how easily you lock eyes with him.

“What’s living your life for you in this aspect?”

Aemond side smirks at you.

“For once, not letting others bossy me around.”

You laugh quietly.

“I don’t think you are easily bossed, Aemond.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“What exactly are your thoughts about me, Miss Y/N?”

“I see you so little that I couldn’t form my judgement of you, Aemond”, you smile at him. “Though I don’t think I can judge anyone at all.”

“Not even if they do bad things?”

“What bad things have you done?”

He seems to stay quiet for a while, watching regret rise to your eyes as you don’t like this silence that hangs between you two so suddenly.

“Some things are better left unsaid”, Aemond sort of justifies. “Look, we are here.”

As he carefully wakes Helaena and takes her inside, you struggle with balance as you leave the car. It’s three in the morning, and you wait as some lights are turned on by Aemond, watching as he carries his sister inside.

The house is a typical lake house, or so you think, comfortable and made of wood. The walls are painted in a light shade of green and you can tell that everywhere else is larger: there are trees surrounding you, a firepit, and boats. Yeah, definitely it’s a lake house.

“Are you staying there?”, you hear a voice calling you out.

Coming to the car to pack small bags is Aemond. You notice his hair is short.

“Did you cut your hair?”, you ask him.

He gives you an amused glance before helping leading you inside—since you are still under effect of alcohol.

“Yeah I did. Did you like it?”, he smiles at you when seeing you blush.

“Maybe”, you whisper, hoping he doesn’t listen.

But he does. Aemond finds you adorable.

“Thanks, princess. So…Here you are. You can stay at my mother’s room and use her clothes. Or I could get some of Laena’s for you.”

“Thank you for being so kind. Are you sure it’s okay if I wear something…?”

“Yeah. She likes you all right, she wouldn’t mind.” He could have added that Mrs Alicent hates his girlfriend, for example, but he doesn’t share this detail yet.

You nod, not realizing Aemond’s been studying you.

“Thank you once again”, you raise your eyes to smile at him.

Aemond’s taken aback by the innocence stamped in your features. No reason why you are friends with Laena, he thought.

“Anytime.” He nods his head and leaves, wishing to ignore that so suddenly a spark came uninvited.

You watch him go, disappointed. But turning to close the door, you move to the comfortable bed and drop asleep. All else is briefly forgotten.

For now.

***

What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more.

For a strange reason you are the first to wake up the next day. You look for a swim suit since the morning is apparently hot—no more a prelude to summer, but it in itself—, decided to have a go at the lake.

It’s a beautiful sight from Mrs Alicent’s quarters: when pulling away the curtains, you are in awe at the dark blue lake that runs deep, cut by houses that stand from two sides of the land. There are already boats on, children having fun and adults too. You smile as you hear the birds singing, it’s all so peaceful and inviting.

After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you opt for making yourself coffee when to your surprise Aemond is already preparing it.

“Up so early?!”, you cannot help yourself.

Aemond is shirtless this morning, only wearing pants. You struggle to keep yourself composed as your eyes scan his well build muscles.

Oh Lord.

It’s what you think, detesting to feel some ache in your feminine parts. But thankfully you are able to repress your impressions as he looks at you with an amused smirk displayed on his lips.

“Yes. A bad habit. I’m surprised you are up early. It’s not even nine o’clock yet”, with a move of his head he invites you to sit at the table that is behind him.

As you do so, you reply:

“I couldn’t set myself to sleep properly. I suppose it’s because I am not used to new beds.”

As he finishes cooking some eggs and preparing coffee, Aemond serves you breakfast.

“I can imagine. We did all so suddenly. But in honesty it’s for the best. Aegon’s parties are too much for us”, he tells you. “We only show up to greet guests and that’s it. After a couple of drinks he doesn’t notice us anymore.”

You frown at that.

“I’m sorry to hear that”, you say as you drink coffee.

Black coffee. The way you like it. You smile in content, a sight most pleasant to see. Aemond smiles back.

“Do you like black coffee too, uh? It’s perfect for me as well. But don’t be sorry. It is what it is. What about you? You are familiar with our dysfunctional family, but I know nothing of yours.”

You’d never think Aemond could be talkative if he so wanted. Turns out, however, you are the one who, when encouraged, speaks a lot. But he actually listens when you tell him about your divorced parents, how you ended up living with your grandparents, your profession, everything.

“I think I overshared, didn’t I?”, you think out loud, embarrassed.

“I don’t think you did”, he smiles at you, locking eyes with you again, giving you that same aching you feel obliged to repress. “I’m protective to Helaena and I lament I had no opportunity to get to know her best friend better.”

You tilt your head with a gentle smile on your face.

“So am I a suitable companion for her?”

He is still watching you intently when he says:

“Of course you are, Y/N. Now let’s get you to the lake.”

How the hell are you on his back and holding him tight like a monkey? You don’t know how easily he convinced you doing that, but here you are. Holding your legs, Aemond runs to the lake and…

SPLASH.

You are both under the cold water. But you are still holding onto him as you laugh out loud.

“You are crazy!”

He turns his head lightly so he can match your gaze. A smile is on his lips when he says:

“Am I?”

“The lake seems too deep for me!”, you justify for remaining locked onto his back.

Aemond raises an eyebrow, not minding at all that you are there—he knows he should, but he likes to feel your warmth against him, his fingertips still caressing your thighs.

“It’s completely safe though”, says he, unwilling to let go of you. “Hold on tight, monkey. I’ll take you to the other side of the lake.”

It’s a fun morning for both of you. Staying like this so close, only reluctantly you part to dive in these blue waters, ignoring his lustful gaze at your curves, he hates how easily such thoughts occur him.

And worst. It’s not only about carnal, but when you two speak, it is as if everything is connected. A sentiment, he perceives, so evident in your y/c eyes.

But the moment is briefly gone when Helaena shows up at the window and yells:

“How naughty of you for not waiting for me!”

***

These first days end up in a first week. Every morning you and Aemond leave your beds early to swim together. Every morning, a new intimacy seems to flow.

But it’s only when sun rises slowly in the first hours that you two can spend some time together by yourselves…or when Helaena is the first to retire after a long day.

In late nights, you two watch movies, share a beer and thoughts. But when it becomes too unbearable to keep away this tension between one another. Something happens.

A bell rings.

“Can you open the door, please?”, Aemond asks you as he’s preparing your favorite breakfast. He’s all smiley today, completely forgetful of the consequence of his getaway.

“Of course”, you smile too, sensing his eyes on you as you are dressing shorts today a blue bikini on top.

But when you open the door, you don’t find Aegon or any Targaryen relative on the other side. Instead a taller, dark-haired sensual woman looks you up and down, making you feel embarrassed of yourself.

“H-Hello”, you try not to forget your manners. “Good morning. May I help him?”

“Is Aemond Targaryen here?”, she asks you cooly.

You try to act in a nonchalant manner as you are under those judging eyes.

“He is. I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“Oh”, the older woman seems pleased to find you in ignorance. “He hasn’t had the grace to tell you about me? I’m Alys Rivers, his girlfriend.”

***

So cut the headlights, summer’s a knife. (…) It’s blue, the feeling I’ve got.

You are sitting in front of the firepit eating your marshmallow as you consider the last events. In a matter of thirty days, your mind has been fed with what you now realize to be an illusion.

You fell for his smile, desired his body, admired his wit. You felt heard and seen for the first time in your life. You thought that he encouraged you in holding him tight, smelling his scent when you dived in together… or when you danced after getting drunk with a couple of beers.

Now these memories are poisoned with the fact he fooled you. How cruel. But you should know better, bad boys don’t like good girls.

Tears raise to your eyes, but you swallow them. You don’t see Helaena coming to your side. The two of you stay silent until she breaks it.

“I’m sorry, Y/Nickname.”

“Why are you feeling sorry for, my dear?”, you ask her, confused.

“Because I didn’t tell you he’s been taken. But honestly I was surprised he accepted my crazy idea of spending some weeks of this summer break without his girlfriend. No one likes her, really. She’s crazy.”

You smile at her attempts to cheer you up.

“It’s okay. I understand, truthfully.”

“You’d be a better girlfriend, though”, she smiles back, giggling when seeing a weak blush painting your cheeks. “It’s true. Mama loves you, and no one else is diplomatic like you.”

You scoff at her. A different aching has your heart breaking.

“Helaena, my honey. Don’t get yourself delusional. It does us little good. But I appreciate it though. Truthfully.”

Though your words aim to a self protection, you need a comfortable embrace and Helaena, knowing you, promptly gives it to you. You two stay like this for a while until she says:

“There is a party going on at the neighbor’s.”

You look up at her and say:

“I thought you didn’t like these kind of parties.”

“Aegon’s parties”, she corrects you, pleased to make you smile. “Come on. It can be fun.”

You wish you had an arguments to say no, but seeing Helaena is actually excited to go to the neighbor’s party, you decide to join her. After changing clothes—you dress a white top and a black skirt with red high heels; and Laena is dressing a short dress—you finally go to the party, pleased that at least with Aemond and Alys gone, you’d not have to see them again.

***

I’m drunk in the back of the car. And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar. Said “I’m fine”, but it wasn’t true.

When seeing Laena having a great time with the said neighbor, a handsome lad named Jacaerys, you raise your eyebrows at her insistence in going there. You laugh to yourself, letting her having her fun all the while you look for yours.

You grab one and then another beer. Losing track of time, you prefer to dance like crazy at the gardens. All of this and you don’t see him crossing the limits that separate Jacaerys’s gardens to the Targaryens’s ones. You don’t see him rushing after you, face carefully in check.

You don’t know his desperate thoughts. Couldn’t even think he’s realized a little too late that you captured his heart, taking as he is, never indulging in his bad boy fame or expecting him to be better.

And here he is. Aware he has your heart broken, by never being honest with you about his connection with that woman that is now his ex, he comes to pursuit you.

“Y/Nickname”, his husky voice comes at you.

And you freeze as you turn around only to watch him standing in front of you.

“Aemond”, you avoid his gaze.

“There are so many things to be said. I should have told you I was in a relationship”, he says urgently, trying to take your hands but he is hurt when you give a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was trying to run from her and…”

But you are not listening. You take a long sip of the beer and decide to go back home. Aemond, however, is not a quitter.

“Y/N!” He then holds your arm, making you look at him. “I’m sorry. What can I do to earn your forgiveness?”

I don’t wanna keep secrets to keep you. (…) And I screamed for whatever it’s worth “I love you”. Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?

“I hate you”, and for the very first time you burst in tears. “Leave me alone.”

“No. I won’t”, he is firm on that. “I love you.”

“It’s a little too late for that”, you suddenly realize you two have snuck in the gardens of Aemond’s parents’ summer household.

But he’s too close to you now. Aemond’s eyes are so expressive and when you find his blue ones…

“You don’t love me”, you accuse him, heart racing.

“I do. I fucking love you, Y/N Y/LN. I left everything to be with you, to fix my damned mistakes”, he cups your face and you spot some tears in his eyes. “In losing me, I found you.”

You know he’s being sincere. He is the devil and you are the angel. But then what? You love him regardless.

***

His lips taste so good, his tongue sliding into your mouth makes you shiver. There is drunkness and sobriety in one kiss, mixed all the way. But neither seems to mind.

You are now at the couch, hands quickly removing his shirt, your nails ensuring to leave your mark in his skin.

“Goodness me, woman!”, he groans, aroused. “Never took you as a possessive one.”

You smirk at him, but there is little time to answer as his mouth dives into your neck, pulling gently your hair as his hand slides to your sides. Finally he parts, breathlessly so, as he lifts your shirt and helps removing your skirt.

The way he watches you makes you dripping wet.

“You are so mine”, says Aemond in the kind of authority voice that accepts no otherwise.

“That I am, sir”, you kiss his lips passionately, your hands going to his pants and there working out with his rigid manhood. “As much as you are mine.”

Your mind, however, goes blank the moment he begins to play with your breasts. You moan hotly in his ear, trying to focus, but damn it’s so difficult.

“My dear Y/N”, he moans your name in such a way.

It’s been a cruel summer, indeed, when every teasing has not prepared for its consummation. And now he has you under his command, lifting your legs to stay in between, playing with your feminine parts as his mouth takes a long time in each nipple, making you moan louder and louder.

“So wet for me”, he groans against your skin, pleased to be responsible for your yearnings. “Fuck!”

He lifts his face to contemplate yours all the whilst preparing to slide his manhood into you. Locking your hands above your head, he smirks down at you.

“I corrupted you, my sweet angel”, Aemond bites down your lips. He now spots some bruises showing on your skin.

“I redeem you”, you say softly.

He smiles at you.

“My savior”, he leans to kiss you slowly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And thus the night is the only witness of how one surrenders to the other in endless making love.

***

Epilogue.

It’s that family barbecue. Aemond watches as you interact with his relatives, a proud side smirk on his display.

“Finally you got rid of that woman”, he listens to Alicent’s pleased sigh. “I always knew Y/N was the right one for the family.”

“For me, mother. For me”, the silver haired male corrects her arrogantly. “She’s my future wife.”

Alicent beams at his son.

“Does she know?”

Unconsciously you turn your head and flash him a big smile. You love his family, but you love him more. Aemond doesn’t resist staying away from you. He just winks at his mother before going at you.

Snaking his arms around your waist, he rests his chin over your shoulder and side eyes at you.

“What?”, you tell him in between giggles as you sense his stare.

“Be my wife”, he blurts out.

Your jaw drops, not really expecting that. But there’s no need to think twice.

“Yes, of course.”

And then you two live happily ever after.

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #Aemond Targaryen smut #Aemond Targaryen modern #modern world #Taylor swift #cruel summer

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