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nwjws · 12 days

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WAIT FOR YOU TO LIKE ME AGAIN - LSH

; SYNOPSIS - whether it be in the middle of the halls or during his election speech, heeseung's never passed up an opportunity to ask you out on a date. although you've always said no, that hasn't stopped the boy from trying again anyway - at least until senior year, when he suddenly stopped pursuing you, to your (and everyone's) bewilderment.

; PAIRING - heeseung x fem!reader

; TAGS - one-shot, fluff, slice of life, highschool au, stuco president!heeseung, vice president!reader, one-sided enemies to lovers ; WARNINGS - angst, mild swearing, light mentions of an abusive ex (not hee's or reader's)

; WC - 11.7k (including the bonus at the end)

; PLAYLIST ► blue butterflies (JIHN) ► line without a hook (ricky montgomery) ► making the bed (olivia rodrigo) ► comfort crowd (conan gray) ► love. (wave to earth)

; AUTHOR'S CORNER ! first fic after hiatus omg. also half the things in this fic rlly happened and the other half were google searches guess which ones are which 😝 i planned to post this on the 17th but i finished it just now and my brain is fried so here we goooo

you hated lee heeseung.

throughout the three years you've known him, he's been always the bane of your existence. the boy was constantly bugging you and pulling a new stunt to show off and get your attention. all of this just to ask you out on a date - something he's been doing practically every week since the age of fourteen.

seriously, after a hundred 'no's you'd think he'd learn to back off. and yet, he was still persistent in pursuing you.

at least, until your final year began.

see, you two had been competing against each other for the position of student council president at the end of last year. unfortunately for you, he was immensely popular; an actual threat. on top of being the captain for boys' volleyball team, he was class rep. and actively helped out teachers after school. students and teachers alike were drawn in by his hardworking yet casual nature and how easily he talked to others. despite the busy campaigns and rivalry, he still managed to somehow find time to ask you out, ending his final speech with, "and aren't all these qualities worthy of at least one date?"

of course he'd still find a way to make such an important event about asking you out. whoops and cheers echoed the hall, with almost everyone looking at you. everyone knew your history, with half the school on his side, cheering him on and urging you to say yes.

thankfully, the other half of the student body understood that no means no, and were more sympathetic towards you. after all, it's not like you were disliked or anything - you were as well known as h*es*ung.

you yourself had led the school to win several math competitions over the years, and tutored over ten students in your highschool career (get that money girl!). in addition, you were already on the council as the treasurer.

yet, it was his last sentence that one the people over and he'd been chosen as the president, with you as vice.

"just say yes. one date won't hurt," ningning had chuckled when you complained again, once she'd come back from her summer camp.

"my pride and reputation of always saying no will be."

"maybe he'll back off if you do?"

"no number of rejections has stopped him, how would a 'yes' do that?"

"maybe he'll realise you're absolutely undateable," she laughed at you, which had you throwing a pillow at her in retaliation.

you scowled at her before pulling out your phone and finding heeseung's instagram.

"thanks for meeting with us today, i'm sure you guys are excited to go home. first days are always tough." and with that, heeseung closed up the first meeting of the year.

conversation and the screeching of chairs filled the room as everyone began to pack up and leave, bidding goodbye to each other. as president and vice president, you and heeseung were left behind to clean up after the others and sort out other documents and such.

you half-heartedly expected another question of a date from him as you threw away the paper cups and teabags, but it never came.

instead, all he said was, "good job today."

you turned to look at him, with his bag slung over one shoulder and a hand stuffed into his pocket. he gave you a tight smile and left the room after that, reminding you to lock up before you left.

a little disconcerted, you continued the last few tasks while mumbling to yourself, "that ass, making me clean up and not..." you didn't finish that thought. it almost sounded like you wanted him to ask you out on another date. you thought he would though - he always did, but the first day of school passed without incident.

well, it's only the first day. he'll definitely ask you out tomorrow, or later this week. he's never missed a chance to do so during first week of school.

he hasn't asked you out at all. not in the first week, nor the second, or the third.

a whole month had gone by, and all you'd heard from heeseung was student council-related stuff. he hadn't even talked to you outside of meetings.

"did you two fight, or something?" ningning asked you curiously.

"i dunno?" you reply truthfully. you really weren't sure if what was going on between you was a fight or just a change in dynamics. it was confusing.

the rest of the school noticed too; the halls whispered when you passed by, wary and concerned looks thrown your way. someone even asked off handedly in conversation: 'are you two secretly dating, then?' everyone was walking on eggshells around you two.

"well, i guess you can rest now."

"huh?"

"you said you wanted him to stop, didn't you?" ningning raised an eyebrow at you. "who knows how many times you've complained about it to me in the past. it's made up like, half of our conversations in all our years of friendship."

"oh, right."

ningning tilted her head curiously at you. "what's with the disappointed tone?"

"what tone?" you rolled your eyes. "this is perfect! i can finally concentrate on my work without having to be afraid that i'll be distracted by heeseung trying to get me to date him again." after a moment, ningning hummed in agreement.

"and! those girls can stop giving me death glares. i mean - i've already seen so many triumphant looks from them, as if they've already got him in the bag."

"uh-huh," she said sceptically.

"they'd definitely say yes if he asked them out. unlike me. he can actually go and date for once, instead of embarrassing himself with me."

"riiiight."

"good. that's good! maybe he'll have a girlfriend by next week. and-"

"okay! i get it, i get it," ningning burst out laughing. "i've never seen you overthink about heeseung this much."

"i can't help it! what would you think if some guy who's been obnoxiously pining over you for years consistently suddenly stopped out of nowhere?"

"hmm... i'd hang out with him, break my leg, therefore obliging him to bring me to the hospital, manipulate him to visit me every day as i recover, be overbearing as hell so that he'd realise he doesn't want me anymore, and poof! he's gone."

you stared at your (possibly insane) best friend (how is she your best friend?!) in alarm.

"...i think it's time for another visit to the psych ward."

"hey!"

you two laughed yourself to stitches. she might be crazy, but she definitely got your mind off heeseung, if only for a little bit.

"you guys don't like sports, do you?"

everyone in the council shook their head.

"well, luckily for you, the student council members aren't be required to participate in sports day. we're only expected to volunteer and help the teachers."

you and the others cheered, relieved you wouldn't have to run yourself to death in the cold wind like last year. you might have been gifted in almost any skill and hobby you picked up, but sports was an exception.

"make sure you do help out, as i'll be taking note of who does what." then, heeseung said in a whisper, as if sharing a secret (who in this room he's hiding it from, you don't know), "and we'll hold a little party here. just us members." that definitely got everyone murmuring excitedly.

in the two previous years you've been in the student council, you've never seen one so lively and reactive to their president. you hate to admit it, but you too could feel your mood lighten up with them whenever heeseung was leading another meeting.

not to mention, he listened intently to the others' concerns, always suggested good solutions, and greeted everyone who entered with a cup of tea. he was a lot more considerate than you'd expected.

see, you hadn't really shared that many classes before. and the one or two you ever did, you avoided him at all costs so you never actually noticed him properly until it was forced right in front of your face.

"on another note, we'd like to take in suggestions for places to visit for an upcoming school trip," you started, garnering their attention.

as you began your part of the meeting, you could feel heeseung's intense stare, but every time you looked at him, he'd turn away.

it was a little frustrating, and you didn't know why. you couldn't figure out why you felt a little more upset every time he'd look somewhere else. was he ignoring you? but, this was a totally normal thing to do, right? so it's not like you could just ask him 'hey, why do you always ignore me when i look at you?', you'd look stupid.

when the meeting ended and everyone else had left, the awkward tension between you two was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"make sure to lock up before you go-"

"did i do something wrong?"

heeseung stared at you, mouth frozen from being cut off mid-sentence.

"what? no. why?"

"i just- well, you-" you stuttered, unsure how to answer. "i guess, i'm not used to you not..."

"to me not asking you to be my girlfriend?" he laughed, but there was an odd lack of humour.

you shrunk into yourself. you should have just kept your mouth shut, now you sounded self-centered.

"nevermind," you huffed.

"i'm just doing what you asked. after the date, remember?" he left before you could say anything else.

after he'd gone, you couldn't even hear the silence he left behind - not when your thoughts rang in your ears. shame, embarrassment, rage. you hated him, heeseung.

but most of all, you hated yourself.

you avoided heeseung at all costs after that incident, at least, whenever you could.

previously, with the lack of interactions you two had, you felt like you barely ever saw him. but now that there was this weird air of tension between you, seeing him at three times a week after school for student council activities suddenly felt too often. every time you were alone with him, you were sure you were as red as a tomato; you developed a habit of letting your hair hide your red ears and hide your face.

when sports day inevitably came, you took over his responsibilities, seeing as he was still a part of the volleyball team. that made him the only one in the student council to join any sports activity, whereas the rest of you relaxed. (the privilege was all thanks to heeseung, who advocated for your guys' exemption from activities after everyone had complained, in return for volunteer work.)

"you haven't gone to the volleyball games yet?" soobin, the treasurer, asked.

"no. i planned out a route to visit all the activities, and the courts happened to be last."

he raised a sceptical eyebrow at you.

"really. it's not because you're trying to steer clear of our dear president or something?"

you cringed. "keep your nose out of our business."

"well, if it's affecting student council activities, isn't it our business too?"

"maybe, but i think your priority should be helping out mrs. shin over there," you pointed to the teacher walking across the field, carrying a bunch of equipment by herself. "'looks pretty heavy, it would look bad if our volunteer wasn't doing his work, now would it?"

soobin gave you a dirty look before leaving to help out, but not before bidding you "good luck!"

when you finally made it to the volleyball courts, you spotted him immediately.

he'd done a spike, the slap echoing so loud that it drew the attention of other students passing by. paired with the sound of feet skidding against the ground and the thumps of balls making contact with skin, you decided that you hated the courts. it felt like walking into a battle zone - always fearing you'll get hit by a ball when you're not looking. once, ningning got hit in the face by a baseball and her eye had actually been pushed inwards into her socket. of course, that wasn't on a court, but you weren't taking your chances.

unfortunately, you still had to make sure everything was going smoothly and take note of how many more rounds were left.

"excuse me! students who aren't playing aren't allowed to step into the courts," the teacher yelled at you from the other side.

"sorry, but i have to check on you guys, i'm part of the student council," you explained as you crept closer.

"but-"

"my bad, mr. jeon. i forgot to tell you to expect our vice president to come around eventually, since she's taking over my duties for the day," heeseung said as came jogging up to you two.

"ah, really? was volleyball taking up your time? you should have told me! i wouldn't want this to get in the way of your work."

"no, it's okay. i wanted to play, and she's very reliable," he gestured to you.

"if you say so."

"right," you started, finally looking at heeseung for the first time that day. you nodded your thanks to him, to which he gave a quick thumbs up to before rejoining the game.

"how many sets are left?" you asked mr. jeon, pulling out your pen to note down on your clipboard.

"two. this is our final game of the day."

"great! who won for the girl's team earlier today? i'm sorry i couldn't come earlier. i thought it might be best to come later in the day so i could get all the results at once."

"don't worry about it. the boys' games are always more interesting anyway - in the sense that it's a little more dramatic, what with all the force they put in their hits."

right at that moment, the resounding boom of the ball hitting a wall interrupted you two. geez, were these guys playing with a ball or setting off canons? why men are so aggressive, you'll never understand.

"perfect timing," mr. jeon chuckled. "well anyway, the U-16 girls won the first game, but the U-19 team won the second-"

you should have minded the ongoing game. it was the number one rule when you were on a court, but you foolishly got distracted with mr. jeon's own clipboard. of course, the moment you let your guard down, the ball flew your way, right when you were shifting your stance and was therefore a little more unstable than usual.

the volleyball hit you right in the chest, and had you falling to the ground. by instinct, you tried to catch yourself - but instead of your palms reaching out backwards to save you, it was your elbows that hit the ground.

"fuck!" you cried at the pain that seared through your arm.

"oh my god, are you alright?" the team suddenly ran up to you, with mr. jeon himself trying to help you up.

"i'm so sorry! i didn't mean to." one of the team members apologised.

"watch it next time," heeseung's stern voice came, but you were more focused on trying to minimise the pain as much as possible.

"where does it hurt? your elbow? can you try moving it for me?"

you did as mr. jeon instructed, but underestimated how much it would hurt.

"oh, that popping sound does not sound normal," heeseung commented.

"heeseung, take her to the infirmary."

he nodded and grabbed your unaffected elbow, asking if it was okay. you nodded and followed him as he started leading the way to the school nurse.

"does it still hurt?"

"if i move it, yeah."

"sorry about that."

"it's fine. it happens." a quick silence followed.

"well, you should go to the doctor later. the nurse probably won't do much, maybe just hand you an ice pack or something else useless," he joked. you laughed.

"yeah. she never really does much, does she? all those years of school just to hand us ice packs for a broken bone or twisted ankle."

"right! even the PE department is better equipped for more serious injuries."

"mhm."

another bout of silence. you were going to go crazy, either from the awkwardness of it all or the immense pain in your right arm. you looked at heeseung's back, and the sweat on his skin, soaking his shirt.

"hey, you can go back if you want to," you told him suddenly. "i can walk myself to the infirmary, it's not like i hurt my leg or anything."

"i know, but i'd feel more at ease if i saw you there myself. you're my vice president, of course i'm concerned."

well, you didn't know how to feel about that. you've been downgraded from his crush to coworker, but he still cares for you. so maybe that was a plus?

"i see."

as expected, you were given a cold pack for your elbow and sent to the local hospital. luckily, it was only a ten minute drive and the nurse accompanied you as a staff member drove you two there. heeseung watched you get in the car and leave, going back to his game.

the next time you went to school (two days later), your right arm was in a sling and you pretended like that wasn’t just the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“you’re ambidextrous?” heeseung whispered to you while everyone else was focused on the movie projected.

the council had waited for you to return before they held their (secret) party, since it just felt wrong to hold one when their vice president was suffering in pain and away. up until now, heeseung had only known you used your right hand from all those meetings.

he'd been paying attention to that?

“i’m a better writer with my right.”

“but you can still write well with your left,” he said, impressed. “you really are amazing”

you stared at him, the look of awe on his face, and the slight smile of his mouth. you really had no idea what to say, flustered by his comment.

then he seemed to realise what he was doing, and quickly turned to back to the movie.

“my mom wanted a left-handed daughter, and would always switch the pencil to my left hand when i was younger,” you told him. you had the sudden urge to spill a bit more of your life to him.

“ah, really?” he replied, still looking the other way.

“yeah, but at that point i was already used to my right. i ended up being able to write with both hands though.”

“oh, you can do that?” soobin joined in the conversation. you nodded at him with wide eyes, not expecting the sudden interruption.

“do what?” hanni asked.

“she can write using both her hands. isn’t she so cool?”

“really?” she gasped, looking at the pen in your left hand. “wow. our vice president is way cooler than the president himself.”

“hey!” heeseung exclaimed as everyone giggled.

“seriously though, she’s the whole package. smart, talented, and pretty?” soobin lowered his voice in a mock-whisper, “i can treat you way better than this guy," he joked, pointing his thumb at heeseung.

“alright, i think we need to get a new treasurer,” heeseung suddenly said. he pointed at the projection and yelled, “look! ernesto's actually the villain!” this successfully put everyone's attention back on the movie, all shocked by the plot twist. (you already knew, because coco was your favourite airplane movie.)

when the party finished up, heeseung actually stayed behind this time, and helped you clean up.

“oh, you really don’t have to,” you told him.

“it’s fine, it’s quicker like this. it’s not fair to make you clean up when you don’t have two working hands.”

you watched as he put away the heavy binders and throw out the trash, feeling a little off-put by the new scene. you thought that maybe you should just go home and leave him to lock up, but he wasn’t saying anything, so you stayed and kept him company. his presence was surprisingly comforting.

“you have the keys?”

“yeah,” you answered, trying to open your backpack.

heeseung made his way over and opened your bag for you. “here, i’ll get it. tell me where it is.”

“oh, uhhh in the pocket there. the left one.”

he found the keys and took them before closing the bag again. he waited for you to put it back on, but noticed you struggling a little with the books in your arm.

“why don’t you just put these in your bag?” he asked, taking them from your good arm and helping you slip your injured one through a strap.

“it’ll be really heavy if i do.” you then thanked him, gesturing for him to give back your textbooks.

instead, he kept them, even holding the door open and waiting for you to pass by first.

“where do you live? i’ll try to help you bring these home.”

“you really-”

“it’s fine, i promise. in fact, i insist.” at your expression, he added, “what kind of president would i be if i didn’t help out my vice?”

right. president. and vice president. not friends, not even classmates. just coworkers.

you rolled your eyes and let him help you. “i usually take the bus home. the one that goes to the museum.”

“ah, i know that one. i usually walk home, but i think there’s a stop that bus goes to that’s near my house. so let’s go.”

heeseung led the way, walking in front of you so you took the chance to observe him from behind.

recently, you noticed that although he always looked put together and clean at the beginning of the day, his hair and clothes felt more loose and casual towards the end of the day - particularly on the longer days where there were council meetings after school. you like this version of him; you feel closer to this heeseung, because it’s a side that only you (and the other members) got to see. it felt a little bit like a secret.

“sorry, looks like my stop is earlier than yours. are you fine with carrying these yourself from here?”

“yep.”

“alright. well then, okay.” when he stood up as the bus stopped, he turned to you and waved lightly. “bye bye!” it was a little endearing - the way he'd said it.

“see you.”

you immediately flopped onto your bed when you reached home (on your back side, of course). it was an… odd day, but you didn’t dislike it.

after a bit of a struggle, you finally fished your phone from your bag, sending ningning a message.

“i think you took my advice too seriously,” ningning chortled during class the next day. “when i said i’d break my leg i didn’t mean actually getting injured!”

you dragged your hand down your face, asking whatever being was listening to your pleas to make your best friend stop teasing you.

“it’s not like i sprained my elbow on purpose??”

“oh girl, you don’t have a single athletic bone do you?”

“you know what, maybe i need to learn to shut up and stop telling you things.”

“i know you won’t. when you’re with me, your attempt at a mysterious persona disappears…”

“are you saying i’m loud?” you ask in mock-offense.

“i’m saying you yap a lot,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “but seriously, who knew getting hit by a volleyball would lead you and The Heeseung finally talk. maybe that guy should’ve thrown one at you when we were fourteen.”

“when did you start rooting for him?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

“i just thought he deserved a chance,” she shrugged nonchalantly, but the way she turned away didn’t sit right with you.

“oh, okay,” was all you came up with.

“so, anyway,” she started again after a moment. “i stalked my ex’s spotify and-”

“oh my god,” you groaned at the mention of her ex. “ningning i told you before, you need to forget about him.”

“i know, i know. but i couldn’t help it! his user was just there on the side, and he was listening to memories!! by conan gray!! i had to see what playlist he was listening to.”

“you need to block his spotify.”

“but that’s so embarrassing. it’s never that deep.”

“if you can’t move on from someone who convinced you that you were nothing without him, then maybe it is that deep.”

ningning sighed. “okay, i’ll block him. but do you want to know what his latest playlist was about?”

“duh,” you laughed as ningning pulled out her phone, promising to block him after.

heeseung continued to help you on the way home every time you guys had a meeting, to your surprise. during those bus rides home, you learned way more about the boy in three weeks than you ever had in your three and a half years of knowing each other. you wondered what had made him like you so much before this if he never even really knew you.

“but i did,” he said. “i did know you.”

“did you really?” you asked, thinking he was joking.

“well, at first, i obviously didn’t. i just thought you were pretty, and fun to annoy. so i kept asking you out just to see your response. after that, i did begin to like you - on a superficial level, of course; i was fifteen!”

you listened intently, finally getting answers to a question you didn’t realise you’d been curious about for so long yourself. heeseung didn’t look at you at all during his monologue, but straight forward instead. so you were able to observe the way the gold light from the sun highlighted his features perfectly. (did he always have such a perfect nose?)

“and then there was a time where i just got tired of it. i wanted to stop, but then everyone would have thought it was out of character. so even though i didn’t even like you anymore - in fact, i hated you, i still kept asking you out. just for show. stupid, right?

“but then, one time, i accidentally ran into you at a shop with ningning. actually, more like i saw you and hid behind one of the aisles. but i heard you say you wanted to get something for your siblings too, and i was like, ‘wow, she actually cares about others?’ back then, i was convinced you only thought about yourself.

“another time, you posted one of your competition wins on your instagram, and i could see from the caption how much you adored your team, even tagging each one of them and thanking them individually. i had never seen someone put that much effort into a simple win before. i kind of felt like i wasn’t thankful enough to my own volleyball team,” he chuckled to himself.

“what really had me falling for you though was when you tutored my sister last year . before that, she'd been going through some sort of mental struggle, what with being bullied at school and coming home to our parents telling her she should be ashamed of her grades. i felt so bad that i couldn’t do anything, you know? her older brother; her protector, but couldn’t do anything against the very people who should have been protecting the both of us. when she’d been signed up with you though, she came home for the first time in a good mood - she was humming! and i asked if something good happened at school, and she told me all about her amazing tutor that assured her she wasn’t the useless being she thought she was. how she was finally beginning to understand school for once, and looked forward to your sessions. when i learned that was you, i wanted so surprised, but so grateful."

you had never felt so touched until now. somehow, heeseung’s words made you feel like you really were worth more than you believed.

“really? wait, who’s your sister?”

“lee haseul. the one with autism, remember?”

“ah yes, of course i do!” you said, the name ringing a bell in your head. “she was definitely a little harder to tutor, but once we found a way to use her fixation on cars and link it to what we were learning, it was smooth sailing from there.”

“i really have no idea how you did that, but you have no idea the impact that had on me and my family. sometimes she asks me what it’s like working with you,” he finally turned to look at you, a pretty smile on his face. your face burned at the adoration on his face, looking away yourself.

“i hope you tell her good things about me.”

“there’s not a bad thing to say.”

“really?”

“really.”

when heeseung left the bus that day, a part of him still stayed with you, as words that constantly replayed in your mind.

it made you feel a little self-conscious, knowing that he’d been watching you this closely all this time. you felt like your efforts were appreciated, and that they weren’t for nothing after all. while your admiration of him only begun after really seeing him work on the council, his respect for you had been brewing for way longer.

you went to bed thinking about him way more than you usually did (and you’ve been thinking about him more often since you sprained your elbow). you found yourself a little more excited for the next meeting day, when he’d go home with you again.

what would you guys talk about? will he tell you more of his thoughts? maybe his other interests? should you ask about his team and work? how was he handling all that? or perhaps you should ask about his sister. anything, really. you just wanted to talk. to him.

oh no, you sounded like a typical high school girl with a crush just now, didn’t you? (well, that’s exactly what you are - no shame in that, though!) if your arm wasn’t injured, you would have been punching your pillow and screaming into it right now.

oh, right - the elbow. for the first time, you really didn’t want it to heal. you wanted it to stay sprained for as long as possible, but that would be stupid, and inconvenient. but then, how else would you talk to heeseung outside of council work? it’s not like you two shared any classes, nor did you run in the same circles at school. the bus rides home were really the only times you got to really talk to heeseung, without all the eyes watching you two.

a small part of you began to dread the day your cast came off, because that would mean heeseung would stop talking to you again, right? he wouldn’t have any reason to riding home with you, and it would go back to that awkward thing you two had.

you sigh and turn over, careful with your arm, and finally fall into a fitful sleep.

“you’re staring at him again.”

that sentence had you flinching away and turning back to ningning, looking at you with a knowing glint.

“i can’t help it! his hair just looks so messy, obviously i’m going to notice.”

“his hair looks the same way it always does…”

“well- look at him walking around like he owns the place! he thinks he’s the shit, doesn’t he?”

“to be fair, he’s the student body president and captain of the volleyball team. maybe he is.”

“why are you defending him?!” you cried at all her replies.

“why are you trying to hard to hate him! we both know how much you li-”

“okay, okay, shhhh,” you shut her up by covering her mouth. really, she needed to learn to shut up. it’s not like the whole world needed to know about your massive crush on the boy you previously hated.

ningning pushed your hands away. “why are you more fixated on him today than usual anyway?”

"okay, first of all," you scoffed at her. "you make it sound like i'm always fixated on him."

"you are."

you rolled your eyes, then bit your lip after a moment of thought, knowing that whatever you were about to say would sound stupid(ly in love).

“it’s just that, i finally got my cast off this past weekend, so i can carry my books home perfectly fine again.”

“ah, and so he won’t be escorting you home anymore like he had been these past five weeks,” ningning finished your train of thought.

you buried your face in your arms, flushing bright red. “god, i sound like an idiot. i hate that i even thought that.”

the girl laughed at you, but patted your back consolingly.

“don’t worry about it. i don’t think heeseung’s gonna stop taking the bus with you just because you’re healed now. trust me, he’s one of the caring people i know.” was that a bit of sadness and longing? maybe you were interpreting her tone wrong.

“he probably will! it’s not like he used to take the bus home before i got hurt.” you peeked up at her. “is it wrong to ask you to throw another ball at me?”

“girl…”

when that day’s meeting finally ended, you and heeseung worked in tandem, tidying up the room before locking up, albeit a little more slowly. it was like both of you were waiting for something, but never said it out loud,

as you finally made your way out the school, you and heeseung turned to each other, hoping the other would say something.

“well-” heeseung started at the same time you said, “are you-”

after a brief moment of awkward silence, you guys burst into soft laughter at the silliness of the situation. what were you so afraid of anyway?

“do you still want to ride with me?” you finally asked him.

“if that’s okay with you.”

“of course it is,” you rolled your eyes playfully, falling into step with him.

“honestly, i thought you were going to go back to walking home after i healed up,” you confessed to him on the bus. “it made me kind of sad.”

“you’d miss me?” he teased, but there was excitement in his tone. he was elated.

“well, these rides are kind of fun! i wish i got to know you like this sooner. and then i thought we’d go back to the way we were before after this, but ningning assured me that it’d be fine.”

“ah yeah, ningning’s cool. wish i had a close friend like her by my side.”

it didn’t click until now how they seemed to be familiar with each other. when did heeseung and ningning become friends? in fact, when did they get a chance to even talk to each other?

“are you friends with her?” you tried to ask nonchalantly, like the topic wasn’t bugging you now. if those two were friends, why didn’t ningning mention it to you?

heeseung seemed to notice the shift in your mood though. “we’re just friends, promise. there’s nothing between us.”

that eased you a little, but that wasn’t really your main concern.

“that’s nice to know. but how did you become friends? i thought you two were was close as me and you were before all this.”

“oh! we met up at summer camp. it was purely by coincidence; my parents decided to send me to one last summer, and she happened to be there. i didn’t know anyone else, so i stuck by her for most of the two weeks we were there. we got to know each other then.”

ningning’s summer camp. last summer had been her third year there, so she wasn’t new or anything. the programme usually lasted two weeks, and they’d take away their phones during that time, so you’d have no contact with her until it ended.

but you’re surprised she didn’t tell you about it when she came back. after all, she had said it was ‘just as usual’, but seeing the new face of your best friend’s (previously) most hated person didn’t seem like nothing.

“huh.”

“i swear though, there was nothing between us back then.”

“i see.”

“i hadn’t talked to her much after my date with you-”

the date. ningning had been the one to push you to go. but why? even if her and heeseung became friends during camp, you and her were still closer. so why did she switch sides? you’d thought it was odd how she was suddenly encouraging you to say yes, when she’d spent the last four years sticking her tongue out at heeseung by your side.

the date, which had gone both so bad and yet so good. when everything had gone terribly wrong, but heeseung did everything right.

“i’m so sorry for being late!” heeseung panted as he ran up to your table.

“the one time i give you a chance, and you’re an hour late, lee.”

“i know, i know. it’s just that my sister-”

“i’m not hearing out any excuses,” you huffed.

you’d felt so humiliated waiting for him. you were shaking, your hair was frizzy with stress and your make up probably a little smudged too. the staff had even given you a free cheesecake slice out of pity. a pity cake.

“whatever, you’re here now, so let’s get this over with”

the waitress came over and gave you an encouraging look (which you ignored) and took your orders. when your meals arrived, you stared at the orange slices in the sauce of your orange chicken. although you hated them, you actually loved the sauce and chicken itself, so you ordered them every time you went to a chinese restaurant.

“you don’t like the oranges?” heeseung asked after seeing you pick them out.

“not really, no. i don’t know how to explain it; i love orange chicken, but i hate actually seeing the oranges on the sauce. it’s a little bit jarring for me, fruits and savoury foods together just don’t make sense to me visually, but when i taste them, they’re so good. just like pineapples on pizza, you get me?”

“i guess,” he thinks out loud. he uses his own chopsticks and starts picking them out from your plate, placing them onto his. “mind if i take these then? i love oranges.”

“i’ve literally seen you throw out a whole orange at school before.”

“you were watching?” he smiled sheepishly, a light pink tint to his cheeks.

“n-not particularly.” you look back down at your food, focusing on your task. you need to be more careful with what you say.

after a terrible start to your date, the rest of your lunch went okay. it wasn’t too bad, and you two started discussing your next plan: watching a movie.

“i’m not even a marvel fan,” you told heeseung after he said he’d gotten two tickets for spiderman: no way home.

“don’t worry, i’ll explain everything to you during the movie.”

“really? also, isn’t a movie a terrible date idea? we wouldn’t really talk to each other.”

“well, i will. i tend to talk a lot during movies.” he turned to you with an apologetic look. “i hope you won’t mind.”

“i’ll need it, won’t i?”

turns out you didn’t need his talking during the movie because you two didn't even get to watch it. a kitchen in the food court next to the theatre had gone up in flames, with the fire spreading to it’s surroundings. thankfully, no one died, but the damage was pretty severe, with half the mall having to close down until reparations are finished. and who knows how long that’ll take…

“oh! well, it’s a good thing i was a little late then, right?” heeseung tried to lighten up this messy date as you two passed by the mall which was now in ashes.

“i guess,” you mumbled. “so what now?”

“well, how about a little bowling?” he suggested.

you nodded, and he drove you two to the local bowling alley. you hadn't done it since you were eight, so heeseung showed you how to do it on your first turn.

“swing your arm like this,” he said, holding onto your bicep and holding onto the ball for you.

“you can let go, you know. i can carry the weight, it’s only the small size after all.”

“i know, but it’s just for demonstration. i’m going to let go of the ball now, okay? make sure to hold tightly,” he looked at you intently. geez, how could someone telling you to hold a bowling ball look at you like you hung the stars?

well, you didn’t really need his help anyway. your instincts kicked in and you managed to hit nine pins all together on your first, with similar numbers for the rest of the rounds. you even got a strike twice!

“are you sure you’ve never bowled before?” heeseung chuckled in awe.

“positive.”

“it always surprises me how easily you pick up things.”

“…thanks.”

and then you hit very few pins every single round after that in the second game.

you hadn’t been able to finish your second game however, because a heavy downpour suddenly came down.

“oh my god, the water is rising so fast,” you called over to heeseung as you looked out the glass doors of the main exit. if the floor hadn’t been lifted, the water would have started flowing in by now.

“crap, should we go home before it gets worse?”

“i suggest you should, kids,” the man behind the counter gruffed. he himself was getting ready to go, with the other customers running outside to their own cars.

heeseung looked outside and then at you.

“you can’t walk outside in those shoes, they’ll get wet.”

you were wearing pointy slip ons that would definitely get wet and soaked if you took a step outside, but it’s not like you had a choice.

“it’s alright, let’s just go-woah!”

heeseung picked you up bridal style and started making his way to his car, going fast but careful not to slip.

“hey! let me down!”

“no way, we’re almost there.”

you tried to fight him off, but he just held tightly until you reached the car, and he gently set you down into the passenger seat before backing out of the parking lot.

“are you crazy?”

“are you?” he retorted. “like hell i’m letting you get all soaked on our first date.”

you wheezed. “this date was so unlucky. who imagined everything that happened could’ve happened.”

“i know! and i wanted to make a good impression so bad. it’s like the world is against me,” he whined.

as you finally reached the front of your apartment complex, heeseung turned to you one last time.

“i’m sorry for everything that went wrong. please let me make it up to you.” he sucked in a breath, and you realised what he was going to say just a moment before he did.

“will you let me take you out on another date?”

yes. absolutely. this was fun. it was terrible, but i had a great time. wait, is this him asking me to be his girlfriend? i should ask. if he says yes, would i say yes? i don’t know, i don’t know him that well. i’ve only really only talked to him today. today’s date. everything went wrong. what if that was a sign? if i say yes, will all our dates just keep going to shit? no way, today was just an anomaly. we’ll be fine. but then when i go back to school, everyone will know. they’ll all look at me like they knew this would happen. they’ll clap him on the back and whoop in the halls, that’ll be so embarrassing. i hate that. maybe i should say no. but he was so sweet. it’s not his fault. but i wouldn’t be able to handle the attention. maybe i should-

“oh… i see.”

you looked up at him in confusion. but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. just straight ahead.

had you said something out loud? your thoughts were running wild, and you really couldn’t make up your mind.

“okay, well. have a good night,” heeseung said. when did he make his way to your door? even through the heartbreak clearly displayed in his voice, he still went out and opened the door for you. or maybe he was kicking you out of his car. was ningning right? had he thought you were undateable?

too much. too much was happening; so much happened today that you couldn’t form an answer. heeseung took your silence as a no (or did you actually say no? out of instinct?), which made your mind even more befuddled. you weren’t sure if you were even forming a coherent thought.

“oh, okay.”

you somehow made it out of the car and to the entrance of the apartment. turning back, you found heeseung’s car still there, with him watching you. you gave a weak wave, one he didn’t return, and punched in your house number.

at the last moment, you wanted to say something. anything, you didn’t know what. but when you around back to him again, he was gone.

you didn’t sleep at all that night. or maybe you did? you couldn’t tell. you’d been so worried over that last moment with heeseung, and had replayed it so many times in your head.

eventually, you convinced yourself that things were fine. that maybe you just imagined it. maybe it wasn’t that bad, and things would go back to normal at school.

definitely. he’ll definitely get back to his shenanigans when school started up again. there wasn’t some sort of finality in his tone - no you just imagined it.

you were wrong.

“why didn’t you tell me you met heeseung at summer camp?”

“how’d you-”

“he told me.” you looked at ningning intently. “but it should have been you.”

“i just- i didn’t think it was worth mentioning! you hated the guy, and it’s not like him being there would have affected you in any way,” she defended herself.

“sure, but i would have appreciated hearing it from you. you knew i’ve had a crush on him for months now, and you could have mentioned it to me?? summer camp was in july; it’s already march for fuck’s sake!”

“i wanted to! i just couldn’t find the right time. you were always busy with student council stuff, and whenever you were free you always talked about heeseung,” he huffed exasperatedly. “how was i supposed to just go, ‘by the way, your crush paid me to set you guys up!’”

your head snapped towards her.

“what?”

“what do you mean wh-” when ningning saw the look on your face, she slapped her hands over her mouth. “you didn’t know about that part...”

“no. i didn’t,” you seethed. “well, i’m glad i got to hear at least something from you.”

you stormed out, ignoring ningning’s pleas of ‘wait! hear me out!’

a fool, that’s what you were. somehow, ningning’s behaviour was even more clear. your best friend had been paid to convince you to say yes. who would have thought she was easily swayed by a few bucks?

and to think that heeseung was really that desperate to take you on a date, going so far as to pay someone close to you to get you to agree? wow, he really was a grade A asshole. sports day had just been topped by ‘being played by my own best friend and crush’ on your list of most embarrassing moments.

speed walking through the halls, you couldn’t stand to look at the pictures of you and heeseung’s faces on the student council board. it hurt so bad, that your feelings could just be easily bought. that someone you considered as family could sell you out like this. that the guy you’d fallen for would go to this length to ‘get you’.

at the bus stop, you saw the man himself smile brightly at you and wave, like he didn’t pay your best friend to get you to go in a date with him. one thing that never fails to amaze you is the audacity of men.

was it all a lie? was his kind-hearted and caring personality all fake? just another thing he did to get your attention? did you truly know heeseung like you thought? or just the 'heeseung' he wanted you to see?

you pointedly looked away, and decided to go home by foot. it was twenty minutes away by walking, but that was enough time for you to at least calm down a little and think about it more. sort out your mind.

you ended up skipping the rest of the week, convincing your parents you were sick (by putting a hot pack on your face and neck before they checked). otherwise, you might have actually broken down right then at school if you saw either heeseung or ningning.

"is everything okay?" soobin asked one day.

"yeah! everything's fine," you said cheerily. "why do you ask?"

"well, it's just that you've been sitting with us instead of ningning."

looking at soobin and his friends, you finally noticed the slight awkward air in the group because of your presence. to be fair, you weren't really close with them to begin with. or anyone. you spent most of your lunch breaks with ningning, but now that you've refused to talk to her for the last two weeks, you've been floating between different groups. sometimes, you even spent lunch in the toilets or the student council room.

but who else could you spend it with? you weren't ready to face ningning yet, and it was already hard enough tolerating heeseung during meetings. you didn't miss the worried looks from him, and he's tried to talk to you several times (which you always declined).

a sigh escapes you, and you massage your forehead. obviously, you needed to confront them both eventually. but not right now. whatever the answer is, you don't think you'd be able to handle it right now.

"do you want to talk about it?" soobin asked, a low volume only for you to hear.

"maybe later," you admitted. it would be a good idea to tell an outsider all of this, especially to soobin, who's always been a great advice-giver.

"there won't be a meeting this friday; seniors are having a rehearsal for the graduation ceremony then. the school wanted to have one before finals started," heeseung told the council. he looked around and asked, "anything else?" at everyone's silence, he nodded and closed the meeting. everyone bid their goodbyes and left, except soobin.

heeseung stared at you with anticipation and uncertainty. he'd given up on asking you to talk for a while now, but still waited for you to act first. he understood that you'd come to him when you were ready.

you looked up at soobin, looking at you with a similar expression, but one that had more curiousity and less anxiety.

"let's go?" he asked. you nodded and followed him out, leaving heeseung to lock up on his own.

you started doing that ever since The Incident. of course, you didn't leave all the clean up work to him, but you rushed your own responsibilities to minimise as much time you had to spend with him as possible.

"seriously?"

you and soobin turned back, finding the voice belonging to heeseung. he was standing outside the student council room, looking at you two, fuming. you could practically see the steam coming out his ears.

"you ignore and shun me away, refusing to talk about this issue between us, but talk to soobin about it instead? why are you dragging him into this??"

you rolled your eyes and turned to him fully, blood boiling. "i'm not 'dragging him into this'. i just wanted to talk to someone, is that so wrong?" you retorted.

"yes! you seriously think getting soobin's opinion is gonna help?"

"am i not allowed to talk to him now? are you going to pay him to stop talking to me too?"

"god, i know it was wrong of me, okay?! i'm sorry, it was shitty of me."

"your apology isn't going to suddenly make everything better. it won't take back what you did."

"i know. but please, talk to me. it's driving me crazy, how you go about acting normal with everyone but me. this whole year, did you not feel anything for me at all? do you really hate me?" he asked, his voice cracking at the end. "if you do, tell me now. so i can finally move on."

you stared at the boy, and the way the late afternoon sunlight hit him from behind. you could barely make out his expression, but maybe that was for the better. you probably wouldn't have been able to turn away and stand your ground if you saw the look on his face.

"you can't say that. not when you were the one who put yourself in this situation. did you think i would never find out? that you bribed my best friend into setting me up with you?" you heard soobin's surprised gasp on the side.

although you had your back to heeseung, you could still imagine what he looked like. the scene broke your heart, but not as much as it did when you found out that ningning had even agreed to such a thing.

after it was clear he wasn't going to reply, you started walking away, with soobin tailing you.

"wow... so that's what happened," was the first thing he said after a few minutes of silence.

"yeah."

"what a dick move."

"right."

you sighed, the adrenaline leaving you and now realising how loud you two had been. there weren't many students left at school, but a teacher or two probably heard the commotion. you'll be the hot topic of the staff lounge room for sure.

when you finally explained it all to soobin, he was quiet for a moment, thoughtful.

"i honestly never expected this from heeseung. it just- it doesn't seem like him."

"that's what i thought too. a little part of me wishes it's all some misunderstanding, but i don't know how it could be twisted any other way."

soobin hummed in agreement. "but, i noticed one thing from all of this though: you still call ningning your best friend," he pointed out. "despite everything, you've already forgiven her. or at least, you've begun to."

you bit your lip, realising he was right. you were beginning to accept it. she seemed genuinely sorry, and you could never hate her forever.

"it's just that - after getting to know heeseung, i felt like a terrible person for not giving him a chance. for always turning him down harshly. maybe i drove him to bribe ningning, maybe she got fed up with me too. i couldn't help but feel guilty for causing both of them to act like this.

"and i know this sounds wrong... but somehow, i felt a little relieved that i wasn't the only person in the wrong. that i wasn't the only asshole in this story - isn't that such a twisted thought?"

soobin melted when he saw your face, and pulled you in for a hug.

"of course not. it's alright to feel like this, you know? it's what makes us human, and what are humans without complicated feelings?"

and just like that, a dam was broken. you didn't realise how much you needed to hear those words until he said them.

it wasn't until may that you finally mustered up the courage to finally talk to ningning, and it seemed she had the same idea too.

"please, can we talk?" she asked at the same time you called her name.

"i was just about to ask the same thing."

once you two found an empty classroom, ningning started immediately.

"listen," she called for your attention. "i'm so sorry. you have no idea how many times i want to say it; i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry. it was such a light offer, really. i didn't realise the meaning it would have in the moment."

"what do you mean, a 'light offer'?"

"during camp, i had bought heeseung's sister some ice cream because she was being left out by the other kids. it was only like two dollars, but heeseung insisted on repaying. but the smallest bill he had was a five, so obviously i refused. but he kept asking me to take it and i told him that if i took it, i'd be the one in debt to him instead. so he made a light-hearted joke about getting you to go on a date with him, so that there'd be no hard feelings between us." she looked up at you pleadingly. "we'd been joking around, i didn't even realise the reality of his question. but when i got back from camp, i didn't think you'd actually go on one with him."

"you kept bringing it up; i trusted your opinion."

"i did, but i didn't really mean it. i was hoping you'd continue to say no, and i could just tell him something like 'sorry, i tried. here's your three dollars back.'"

"you didn't mean it?" you prodded.

ningning looked down at her hands and sighed. you could tell something was weighing on her.

"the truth is... i ended up catching feelings for heeseung. you know how i'd just broken up with my ex recently."

you thought back to her ex, who had isolated ningning from you and her other friends. how she'd come to school covered up even in the heat. the way she'd lost a worrying amount of weight. in all honesty, you should have tried to pry more; to break her out of this toxic relationship. but instead, you told yourself that there wasn't anything you could do, and left her to deal with the abuse on her own.

the guilt ate you, but you distracted yourself with work (and heeseung). god, you're so self-centred, aren't you?

"oh yeah, i remember very well."

"exactly," she says, hearing the loathing in your voice. "heeseung was the first person to show me genuine kindness after that whole affair. and so i found myself watching him over those two weeks, falling for him. and i thought to myself: if you didn't want him, then could i? i feel like the worst person ever, how could i even think that?"

her voice broke at the end, and you could see her silently crying; tears poured down her face but her sobs were inaudible. you'd noticed it was a habit she formed after getting with her ex. she'd never cried much before him, but she used to cry as loudly as you. you placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"it's okay. you're not the only one with shitty thoughts."

her wide eyes peered up at you, sparkling with tears. she wrapped her arms around you, and you reciprocated the embrace.

the way she'd hiccuped and the wet spot you could feel forming on your shirt yet the silent sobs broke your own heart, and you had to force your own tears down.

"i'm sorry too. i was too absorbed in my own life that i didn't pay enough attention to the way you were breaking. i mean, how did i not notice anything all this time?"

you wondered if her smile had ever wavered when she was with you, if she had to fake a laugh, or even force herself to talk to you this past year. dealing with her own problems on her own, while you vented to her yours. if she had, you didn't notice (someone give you a 'best friend of the year' award right now!).

as much as you wanted to hate her for liking heeseung, you didn't. you understood her feelings, especially after getting to know the boy himself. he brought a sense of safety with him wherever he went - so how could you ever hate your best friend for needing that security when no one else offered it to her?

"wait, can i ask you something?" you asked. ningning slipped from the embrace, nodding.

"if you liked heeseung, then why did you still ask me to accept his date offers? you could have just kept it from me, and told him that i said no. was it really just because of the three dollar 'debt'?"

"ah, right. well, when he'd asked me to get you to go on a date with me, it reminded me just how much he liked you. i don't think he'd ever see me the same way, not when his sights are so fixed on you. and after getting a taste of his hospitality, i felt that you deserved it too. that not only did he deserve a chance, but so did you.

"i realised that you needed someone like him. i couldn't give you the care and support he could, not when i'm too absorbed by my own problems. and i knew you were feeling guilty, and heeseung was the only one who could really understand you."

oh, you really were going to either jump off a cliff or hug her so tight her eyeballs might pop out. even when you neglected, she still thought about you through it all. heeseung was wrong, he made you out to be this caring person who thought of others, but that person was really ningning.

"but, what about you? you need care and support too."

"it wouldn't work out between us, he's not the kind of person i want. he was just the first kind person in a while. i need to heal and learn to be more independent myself."

a quiet moment followed, with the both of you lost in your thoughts and emotions. you hadn't felt this lonely in so long, and a weight had finally been lifted from your shoulders.

"so what are you going to do? have you talked to heeseung yet?"

"no, not yet. but he's waited four years now, he can wait a little longer. i just want to spend time with my best friend right now."

'a little longer' ended up being another month. when finals started, the school let the older years off on study leave to focus on exams. so you didn't end up seeing heeseung until the final graduation rehearsal.

as president and vice president, you two were expected to perform a speech and be next to each other the whole ceremony. so you decided it was the perfect time to confront him then.

"heeseung, wait," you called, grabbing onto his wrist as he walked by.

he immediately paused in his tracks, whipping around to look at you with wide eyes, surprised you'd finally decided to talk to him. you glanced at his friends behind him, all with a mix of curious and knowing looks.

"oh, uh, you guys can go ahead," he told them, and they left you two alone.

"i made up with ningning..." you told him.

"i see! that- that's good. im happy you guys did."

"...and i'm sorry. for making a big deal out of nothing. for making you wait so long. you're seriously one of the sweetest people i've ever met. you didn't deserve that."

heeseung shook his head in protest. "no, don't say that. i'd wait for you as long as you want, even if you never accept me. and it was a big deal. i'm guessing she told you?" you nodded. "it was fucked up of me to even make a joke like that. in fact, it was worse than if it was a genuine deal. and i can't just buy your love with three dollars, you're worth more than that." you tried to say something, but heeseung continued.

"i screwed up, i know. but i never lied to you. if there's one thing i've always been sure of, it was loving you. don't you ever feel like you have to love me back though, it's not something you can force. but i'll always have your back. no matter how many fights, how many fuck-ups, or if i ever lose my feelings for you - which might never happen. you can always fall back on me for support."

your eyes watered at his sincerity, feeling unworthy of his kindness.

"i don't deserve that though. ningning does."

"you both do. listen to me," he said, grabbing onto your shoulders and forcing you to look up at him. "don't you ever dare say that you're undeserving of love and support. every one does, but i know who you are; i know how hard you work and your honesty. and i want to guarantee you a home with me, if you ever need one. because i love you."

wow. you've cried so much these past few months, and you're sure you're about to start again. heeseung wiped your tears with his thumb, and your heart swelled.

a year ago, you would have never even thought of accepting heeseung's feelings. a few months ago, you thought you had just missed him, finally reciprocating his feelings right as he lost them. but now you were finally on the same page, and you didn't want to waste another moment.

"i love you, heeseung."

graduation day was a busy one. you had to start getting ready earlier than other students in order to prepare your speech and arrive before everyone else. it was stressful, yet rewarding, especially as you crossed the stage and finally received your diploma.

when you and heeseung were set to give your pre-written speeches, you almost didn't notice the way everyone looked motivated during his, being captured by his words yourself. you hoped to be able to instil that inspiration in others one day.

towards the end of his speech though, he did something you didn't expect, but shouldn't have been surprised by.

"so toward my fellow graduates and our families who've supported us all this way, let's celebrate our achievements and strive to follow our dreams," then turned to look back at you, pulling a bouquet of flowers from under podium, which he'd blocked from your view this whole time with his body. "as i will be with mine. so i'll ask one last time: would you let me have the honour of being your boyfriend?"

you rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide the smile on your face. with the cheers echoing throughout the hall, you suddenly got a sense of deja vu, remembering his election speech the previous year.

oh, how much things have changed since then.

"if only you'll let me be your girlfriend."

; BONUS

with exams over and the heatwave taking over the country, you had decided to spend the day at heeseung's house and try to cool off.

"are you and ningning going back to camp this summer?" you asked, hoping he'd say no. having zero contact with your best friends for two weeks sounded like hell. not even a good morning or good night text? shivers went down your spine at the thought.

"i think i'll be busy with college apps. not sure about ningning though."

"really?" you gasped, turning over to look at him. "so basically i get to spend the whole holiday with you."

heeseung grinned at you excitedly, thinking the same. then, his face suddenly lit up, as if remembering something.

"speaking of ningning, i just remembered how she sprained her leg last year. she spent the rest of the week in the infirmary."

"really? she was fine when she came back though."

"it was minor, so it only took one week, in the middle of those two."

suddenly, you remembered something too.

"i'd hang out with him, break my leg, therefore obliging him to bring me to the hospital, manipulate him to visit me every day as i recover, be overbearing as hell so that he'd realise he doesn't want me anymore, and poof! he's gone."

"no way..."

"what?" he questioned.

"did you have to visit her everyday?"

"oh. yeah, to give her her medicine and meals. the other kids had basically made me their makeshift nurse, since i treated them better than the nurse apparently," he laughed at the memory. "i caught the old lady glaring at me several times - maybe she thought i'd stolen her job?"

you laughed with him, but not only because of his story. you couldn't believe ningning's oddly specific solution had actually come out of experience. you were so going to bully her for this later.

"should i glare at you too, then?"

"hm?" he hummed confusedly.

"for stealing my heart."

heeseung blinked at you for a moment, before breaking into a wide smile and suddenly attacking you with tickles (a habit you learned he tended to do when he was flustered, specifically by you).

giggles escaped you, laughing so hard that it began to hurt. if this is how it's going to be with heeseung, you'll grow abs in no time.

"okay! okay, stop-" you cackled.

he obliged, helping you sit back up. then he tucked your hair behind your hear and placed a quick peck on your lips.

suddenly shy, you looked away with a smile facing the fan as it blew air onto your face, pushing your hair back. when you looked back at heeseung over your shoulder, you were surprised to find him beaming at you with awe on his face.

"you're beautiful, you know?"

"only when i'm with you."

"nope. you're always stunning."

"okay."

"you don't believe me?"

"i do."

"good. i'll keep saying it anyway, to make sure you do."

you stared at him for a moment that felt like hours, just staring into each others eyes. you then went in for a hug, toppling over the other and staying in that position - just you two cuddling on his bed.

sure, it was really hot today, but somehow the warmth from his body was more comfortable than anything else. you couldn't have asked for a more perfect moment.

; AUTHOR'S CORNER ! is it obvious i've never had a big injury before... anyway i hope u guys enjoyed this! i wrote this really quick and suddenly like it js came out of nowhere lol but for now i'm proud of it :)

; TAGLIST - @naespas @okwonyo @sleepdeprivedline @lcvclywon @llvrhee @hommyy-tommy @sumzysworld @syazzzlisa @jiawji @cjayius @desistay @dimplewonie perm. @lovelovelovebts @miyseung @babyy-bambii @haechansbbg @gweoriz @maoyueze @manooffline @yizhoutv @rikibun @wonniversity networks. @kflixnet @k-films @/k-labels

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ mi's works #kflixnet #k-labels #k-films #enhypen #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung #heeseung fic #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung fics #heeseung oneshots #heeseung long fics #ੈ♡˳ wait until you like me again

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astridthevalkyrie · 2 months

Text

oh my god, bakugo's kind of my friend! | k. bakugo x reader

----> summary: You'd never dare tell anyone that he was your friend. You'd never be so bold. Katsuki agrees. He's definitely not your friend.

----> warnings: quirkless university au, video game violence, fluff n feelings

----> a/n: title blatantly stolen from the office—"oh my god, dwight's kind of my friend!"

----> word count: 2k

God, no, you’re not friends with Katsuki Bakugo.

No one is.

Yeah, okay, that’s not totally true. He’s sort of friends with Ochako, that’s how you met him. He’s actually fairly close to Izuku and Eijiro, his roommates. He tolerates Shoto, might even begrudgingly respect him. And he’s got some weird mutual-depression pact going on with Kyoka.

But you’re not any of them. And you vehemently deny it when people ask, lest he, heaven forbid, think you’re going around telling people he likes you. You saw what happened to Neito last year when he, just once, said something about his friend Katsuki. You’re pretty sure it was the reason behind his switching majors, too, just to avoid being in the same classes with the terrifying blonde.

Sure, you’re in his apartment. Neito’s never stepped foot in here (aside from The Incident). And you’re well acquainted with the people he does clearly consider not-enemies. Earlier today, you and Momo had been out getting chips and soda for tonight. Just half an hour ago, you’d been playing blind karaoke with Eijiro, Izuku, and Ochako on Kyoka’s old laptop and mic that somehow both still had really good audio quality. Not to mention, you and Mina have had at least one class together every semester since you both started—she always races to slide into the chair next to you on every first day.

And you’re currently sitting on Katsuki’s couch, two feet away from Katsuki, playing a battle royale on Katsuki’s console.

“Behind the building,” he mutters, and you hum in acknowledgement, running to the spot he generously marked on the map.

It started a long while back. You and Denki had been playing some shitty racing game, and you’d very easily kicked his ass, leaving him groaning and flopping back onto Kyoka’s lap, where she offered no pity, rolling his head off with a light shove. As you were laughing at the display, Katsuki had taken Denki’s place on the floor, and all but demanded you pick up the controller once more.

(You’d won again. Terrified, you simply claimed that your controller must be broken before racing out of the room.

Imagine your surprise when, the next time you visited, he’d barked at you to assist him with a multiplayer, ordering a pouty Denki off the couch.)

You like playing, and you don’t have a console with as much storage back home, and you’re too broke to be buying multiple games anyways, so you don’t mind taking advantage of Katsuki’s appreciation for your skill. It’s usually a nice way to end the night, whether you and Ochako end up leaving or if you fall asleep right there on the couch.

Shivering, you bring your feet under the wool blanket you’d brought with you. You’re the only one who finds the apartment freezing. Everyone else typically sheds their extra layers, while you once hunted down Eijiro’s sock drawer to steal a pair of He-Man stockings for the night.

“Up in the window,” you warn, at the same time he says, “Oi.”

Both of you meet each other’s gaze for a second in bewilderment, before rapidly turning your attention back to the TV. He dodges the shot from the window, and then continues.

“You been tellin’ people I hate you?”

“What?” Your hands almost drop the controller, but you regain control just quick enough to roll out of the way of a grenade. “No.”

“Kirishima said Tetsutetsu told him that Kendo told him that Tokage told her that you told her I hated you.”

If you weren’t nervous, you’d tell Katsuki you were surprised he even knew all those names. “I didn’t say that. I just said we weren’t friends.”

There’s an awfully long pause. You can still hear the sounds from the game, and the chatter of everyone else in the apartment—Hanta’s trying to rap?—but not a word from your couch partner. If it weren’t for the screen in front of you, you’d be nervously biting your nails or just full on escaping, honestly. Not that you’re scared of Katsuki, at least not more than one should be, but…

Well, the truth is you did see him as a friend. Or, screw it, as more than that, if those little arrhythmias you observed in yourself every time he would raise his hand in greeting when he passed you on campus were any indication. And you know it’s going to hurt—it already does—to hear him confirm the same thing that you told everyone when they asked. That you meant very little to him, in the long term.

“We’re not friends, huh?” he finally says, as more of an inquiry than you’d expected it to sound.

Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t stop staring straight ahead, spamming X to whack someone over the head with a bat. “Um. Are we?”

“Isn’t this your favorite game?” he shoots back, as though that answers your question.

“Yes? So?”

Another pause. You climb up to the roof of some building and emote pointlessly before hopping down and ducking behind a bush to heal. Katsuki lets out a mix of a sigh and a grunt, dashing across an abandoned minefield.

“So,” he snarks, “I only bought it after you told me it was your favorite.”

Faintly, you feel the tips of your ears grow hot. Is that true? That can’t be true, can it? The timing does line up. You think it was back in the first week of October that you mentioned it, and then by Halloween you’d already played several rounds. Between that and losing to Momo in several games of pool, finals month had flown by.

But…

“I didn’t even tell you that.” Your voice comes out meek, and even though you’re in a safe space now, you’re still too nervous to turn your head and look at him. “I was talking to Shoto.” You’d even been half sure that Shoto wasn’t really registering what you were saying, with Ochako an inch away from him shrieking starships were meant to fly-y-y-y-y directly into his ear.

Katsuki grunts. “I was there, wasn’t I?”

If you wrack your memory, you can sort of remember it. He was…on Ochako’s other side? When she got drunk, she usually wanted to whack something, and Katsuki’s arm had been her victim that day, her palm smacking against his elbow at every other sung word.

The heat from your ears travels down to your neck. Over the singing and over everyone else’s conversations, was he paying attention to…you?

“I appreciate it,” you squeak quickly, wincing when you’re shot in the leg, “I mean, that was nice. Thank you. I just—I didn’t think you wanted me telling people we were friends, after what happened to—”

“If you bring up Monoma, I’ll take away your blanket,” he threatens; it makes you chuckle weakly. “You’re not that shithead. He pisses me off. You’re…you know.” You don’t know, actually. “You.”

Yeah, you’re you. You play games with him. You know his friends. You’re the only one who can try to outdance Eijiro to Rasputin in Just Dance. What does any of that have to do with…

“Do you think I ever fuckin’ carried that dick’s bag to class?”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think I had his stupid long ice cream order memorized? Pistachios, on the sides only,” he mimics, and you huff in an affronted sort of way, defensive of your topping choices. “Telling people to shut up so that I could hear what he was saying? Turning up the heat and burning up everyone in the apartment just to keep him warm? Was I inviting him to my place every two weeks just to fuckin’ watch him play Kingdom Hearts 3?”

And so, you finally look to the side. Katsuki’s cheeks are red, and his gaze is still on the television. His thumbs move furiously against the controller, and you have to bite your lip to prevent a quiet you’re really cute, you know that? from carelessly slipping from your mouth.

“But, to be fair,” you attempt, still confused, “you don’t exactly do all of that for your other friends either, Katsuki.”

At your words, he slouches into his seat more, the creases on his forehead deepening as an uncharacteristic frown—a frown, not a scowl—forms on his face. One would think you’d just told him you hated his guts.

“Yeah.“ His glare flickers over to you for a moment. “Exactly.”

There’s a blast from the TV and a realization that hits you at the same time.

You’re not his friend. He doesn’t see you as a friend.

The heat finally reaches your cheeks, and your mouth falls open slightly.

Then, realizing something else, your head immediately snaps back to the screen to see that blast sound had actually been your character getting blown up.

Your mouth falls open. You’d looked away for a few seconds at best. Which aces are in the lobby tonight?

“I lost,” you tell him, crestfallen.

Katsuki snorts. “I didn’t.”

He keeps playing, and your cheeks don’t take any time to cool down. Instead, you stare at him while he’s distracted trying to escape the same vicious bastards who hunted you down, and you note that his face doesn’t look any less heated either. For once, it’s clearly not because he’s just getting into the game.

You wonder if that was ever the case at all, or if he just felt the same striking little jolt you did everytime you two accidentally bumped into each other while playing on this exact couch.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” The announcement comes out a bit louder than you expected. “I’ll probably head back.”

“I don’t think so.” Without breaking his eyes away from the TV, he nudges his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Uraraka’s dead on her feet, and you’re not walkin’ back alone.”

Has he always purposely caused the fluttering in your chest? “Okay, well. Izuku’s still awake, I’ll just take his bed for now.”

Katsuki’s tongue clicks in a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of way. “Alright. Put the controller back before you go.”

“Fine. Where’s the, uh…” You turn your head this way and that, looking for the little box that they all go in.

“On my right,” he offers casually, not a hint on his face that he essentially just confessed to you.

Feeling a little spiteful, you reach to the side, blanket and all, instead of just standing up and going behind the couch like you would any other day. Purposefully blocking his view of the screen as you reach over him to toss the controller into the box, you smirk slightly when another blast signals that he’s died as well.

Only to yelp when a firm arm shoves you down against his chest.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, red eyes glittering in amusement as he watches you struggle on his lap, “I lost too.”

Tokage is going to hear a very different story tomorrow. “And how’s that my problem?”

His grip tightens, fingers gently digging into the thick cloth of the blanket that’s draped over you. “I wanna play again. And I’m cold.”

There’s a small, dumb grin on his face that you’d consider kissing off if it wasn’t mirrored by an equally dumb one of yours. You’re pretty sure Katsuki’s never ever complained about the cold in his apartment. But then, he’s never complained about the heat either. If he wants to be a sauna under you, who are you to deny him? Besides, you’re feeling cold too, you might as well just take advantage of the free insulation.

From the table, in the midst of pouring something that looks like cookie batter into a bowl, Kyoka raises her brow at the sight of you, then pats Tenya’s arm and points.

He mouths something like, “Finally.”

Face burning once more, you bury your face in Katsuki’s neck, and relax in his hold while he presses X to replay.

#bakugo x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x y/n #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #valkyrie stories

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

Text

model!steve and voice actor!eddie

part 2 here | ao3 link here

Eddie chose a career in voice acting to avoid shit like this.

Forced socializing. Schmoozing with hotshot directors who are used to everyone kissing their ass until their lips bleed. And Eddie doesn’t do that shit.

… Okay yeah sure, Eddie kisses asses. But only in the literal, consensual kind of way. Usually after a few mediocre dinner dates, at least.

But this particular fuckhole of a director is insisting that Eddie attends the production shoot of the commercial that he’ll be narrating for. Which is weird - that’s not how this process typically goes. Eddie gets the script and records it in his studio. Easy peasy.

“I do things a little differently with my projects.” The director sneers into the phone’s speaker. Eddie silently gags at the oozing amounts of ego on this guy. “I want to immerse you into my vision.”

Ew. Eddie would rather immerse himself into a nap, but whatever. A job is a job.

“Understood.” Eddie agrees with minimal teeth-clenching. “I’ll be on set shortly.”

The phone clicks dead with nothing but a chuckle from the guy. No ‘goodbye,’ no ‘thank you.’ Rude… but that’s kind of an industry standard, so why did Eddie expect anything different?

He folds the script into his back pocket, throws on a shirt that screams ‘Los Angeles disaster gay,’ and makes his way to the studio lot.

Fucking yay.

Upon arrival, the director immediately escorts Eddie into the green room. Rambles on about needing him to meet the lead model for this commercial.

“Isn’t he just posing with the product?” Eddie lets his snarkiness run loose with that question, knows it right away.

Luckily, the guy is too busy snapping at a crew member to notice. “You’ll be voicing his character’s inner narrations.”

“Right.”

“And I want your tone to be seamless with the energy that he’s giving in this shoot. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.” Mostly loud.

The director swings open the door and reveals maybe the most cosmically beautiful person that Eddie has ever seen.

“Eddie, this is Steve.” The director says. “Steve, this is Eddie.”

Models are beautiful people, that’s the goddamn gig. Makeup, no makeup. Photoshop, no photoshop. They just look better than the general population and society accepts that as a fact.

But Eddie is a grubby little voice actor that burrows himself up in his boxy apartment for days. Very little sunlight, very little human interaction, and a shit ton of takeout.

Long story short, he doesn’t get out much. So this? Seeing a biblically hot heartthrob in the flesh? With his own two eyes? It’s knocking him into deep space. Sending him into an astral projection without sticking a tablet on his tongue first.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Steve holds out his hand while someone brushes more powder onto his shiny, glowy skin. God, that’s the best damn skin Eddie has ever seen. Powder be damned, Steve doesn’t need it’s chalky finish.

Eddie shakes himself out of this spell, takes Steve’s hand like he’s somehow worthy of touching him. “Yeah, you too.”

Lame. So lame. On a scale of one to Star Wars prequels, his response is the CGI in Attack of the Clones. ‘Yeah, you too?’ Ugh, what a dumbass.

The director tells them to get acquainted and to be on set in ten minutes. Ten minutes. Eddie has to be convincingly normal for ten whole minutes. Pfft, that’s laughable, but he’ll give it a shot.

“That guy’s a total asshat.” Steve grumbles.

Oh. Eddie could smother him in kisses for saying that. Lick Steve clean of all that stupid powder and probably die of talc poisoning. Death By Licking a Model is one hell of a way to go.

“Yeah.” Find some new words, Munson. “Major asshat. But he happens to be paying my bills this month, so technically, he’s my favorite major asshat.”

“Oh, same.” Steve laughs. It’s fucking glorious too. Eddie kind of wishes he had brought his microphone so that he could capture such a wonderful sound with high quality recording software. Is that creepy? Maybe he should dial it back.

... As if. This guy’s hair is sculpted with effortless perfection and his shoulder blades could slice through a French baguette. No way Eddie can dial it back or keep it together.

“So you’re doing the voice work on the commercial, right?” Steve asks.

‘Yup.” Eddie shoves both hands into his pockets. “Indeed I am.”

Okay, that was borderline Yoda. Get a grip.

Steve seems unfazed though. “That’s cool. Can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”

“Thanks.” Eddie smiles warmly. Nerves mellowing out. “And I can’t wait to see you in action out there.”

“Hope I can give you some good inspiration.” And Steve winks, legit winks at Eddie. Does it like it’s normal too, like he winks at everybody. He probably winks at nuns just to see if he can get them to consider conversion.

Eddie is so hopeless. Fucking tragic at this point.

They walk into the studio and are greeted by a somber, archaic set design. There’s a massive throne in the middle that is draped with fur.

It’s… tacky. That’s the nicest adjective Eddie has to describe it. Tacky bullshit.

“I thought this was for a cologne ad.” Eddie says, eyeing the snowy backdrop.

Steve nods. “It is.”

“So what’s with the secondhand Game of Thrones set?”

“Mr. Asshat thinks this is his cinematic debut.”

Eddie snorts. Loves that he already has inside jokes with this beautiful, beautiful creature. “Someone should tell Mr. Asshat that this is visual plagiarism.”

“Nah.” Steve runs his hand over the tacky fur piece. Smirks to himself as he speaks. “I say we let him suffer.”

Eddie’s legs wobble. “Damn, you’re hot.”

He sounds ridiculously uncool, so breathy and gone. But Steve shrugs in a non-pitying kind of way, so maybe Eddie's uncoolness is excused. Or expected.

While the camera and lighting crew finalize their positions, Steve takes off his robe, revealing his costume.

Torn, muddied pants. Ripped and clawed to shreds. A billowy white top that’s completely unbuttoned. Un-laced? Eddie’s not entirely sure about the mechanics - just knows that Steve’s chest is out, that’s all he can focus on.

There’s a dented crown that the stylist places next to the throne, right at Steve’s feet. It’s shimmery yet tarnished, catches the light in a kaleidoscope effect.

The product is called The Fallen King, so deductive reasoning tells Eddie that Steve is meant to be the physical embodiment of this scent. He recalls something in the script about his title being slandered by promiscuity and forbidden love. Apparently they’ve bottled up that smell into a cologne.

Do people really want to smell like a dethroned monarch? That’s a thing? Huh.

Just to make the sexual torture even more unbearable, Eddie gets to spectate alongside Mr. Asshat himself. Which also means that Eddie almost has a center view of Steve’s performance.

Cause that’s exactly what he’s giving. A performance. A full display production of his body, his face. His whole godlike essence.

It’s unfair how fucked Eddie is from watching Steve pose. He can hold the oddest positions without budging a single tendon. So still. Durable. Strong.

Every last thought in Eddie’s head is impure from that observation. He wants to wrap his fingers around Steve’s muscles until he finally moves, twitches. Eddie wants to watch as Steve’s pretty lips part, falling open with sighs. See how long it takes for those sighs to turn into moans.

Steve slumps back into the throne, legs spread obscenely far apart. His gaze droops low and dark, practically eye-fucking the camera. It’s crazy how jealous Eddie is of that stupid inanimate object. The things he would do to get eye-fucked by that golden sex god up there…

His internal porno gets interrupted by a new pose. A wicked one. Steve is on his knees now, looking up into the camera lens. He sinks into the dreamiest expression. Looks dazed, all spaced-out and helpless. Eddie kneads at the growing heat in his pants with the heel of his palm. Hopes it’s not fucking obvious that he’s so horned up right now.

The director clears his throat and yells over the camera’s constant shuttering. “Can you tilt your head back, Steve?”

And Steve does. So obedient, so exceptional at his job. His head rolls back on his neck, shoulders sagging with the shift of weight.

Eddie is chewing the inside of his cheek, nearly ready to take the horny loss and go jack off in his car. Steve is in the most ideal position now, totally vulnerable. Eddie could fuck him so good like that, let Steve melt into his touch. He’d treat him like treasure, spoil him with dick and praise. Eddie would catch him if his legs give out. Would lick Steve’s kiss-bitten lips until the swelling goes down.

God, Eddie is so sick in the head for conjuring up x-rated scenes like this. In public, surrounded by strangers. Literally on the clock. He seriously needs to get his head checked for having such a whorish imagination.

The shoot ends shortly after that last pose, the one that rocked Eddie’s world. He closes his eyes for a minute, takes a few deep breaths. Tries to inhale some goddamn decency.

“How was it?” Steve heads his way, snaking his arms back into the bathrobe.

Eddie blinks hard. “It was… you were…” And the words stop. Nothing else comes out, his throat is strangled and bare.

Steve gives a soft laugh, nudges Eddie’s arm with his elbow. “Guess you do better when there’s a script in front of you, huh?”

Oh. So he’s pretty and darkly playful? This is too good, too delicious.

Eddie wets his bottom lip, recovers quickly. “I do better when there’s not an earthbound angel in my presence.”

“Wow.” Steve raises both eyebrows. “That’s quite the compliment.”

“Oh come on - you must get compliments all the time.”

“Not like that one though.”

“No?”

Steve takes a step into Eddie’s space. “Definitely not.”

They just stare after that - mostly because it’s Eddie’s turn to speak but words are so secondary when there’s this much beauty to behold. Gazing becomes his top priority.

And before the conversation can lead to an exchange of last names or phone numbers, Steve is rushed off by his agent. Maybe his publicist. Maybe his mom, Eddie has no fucking clue. Just someone taking away his shiny new toy. He sort of feels like reenacting that scene in Cast Away when the volleyball drifts into the ocean. Be dramatic as all hell about this ending.

Eddie doesn’t actually jack off in his car, although he really wants to. No, he decides to use all of his adrenaline and pent-up hormones for the voice recording. It gives his vocals this strained, chesty sound. Sinful and corrupt. Cracking with emotion in certain spots, spiking the volume in all the right ways.

It might be too much, a little bit too suggestive for a lousy cologne advertisement.

But as he listens back, Eddie can’t help but picture Steve. Imagining snapshots of him from every angle, especially the unspeakable ones. The recording barely sounds like a script anymore. It almost sounds like Eddie whispering the lines directly into Steve’s ear. A dirty secret between them.

This is it, he thinks. Sends the audio file to his sound mixer without a second read-through, without a retake. This might be the best voiceover Eddie Munson has ever done.

#steddie #steddie fic #this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator #so there will be two more parts - fairly short like this one #not sure if I should put this on ao3... we shall see #anyways thanks for listening xx

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almondamaretto · 2 months

Note

hii i loved ur crossfaded story, do u think u could do some stoner matt bf hcs? 🫶🫶

YESSSSS omg girl u have good taste

i was looking for an excuse to write ts. also not proofread!! and not good because i was high!!

stoner!matt x afab!reader

warnings: use of weed, smut

— ok lets get one thing straight, this man is one of those deep thought, random fact stoners that make you rethink everything about the world.

— "who decided that the alphabet was in alphabetical order? maybe we wanted e first, yknow?"

— always has at least one joint or the makings for one joint on him at all times. not as bad as chris who i would imagine carries around like 2-3 all the time.

— i would give anything to see this man rolling a fuckin joint.

— feels like an unpopular opinion i'm not sure, but he definitely thinks watching his girl roll one is hot. especially if you're not as experienced as him, yet still make an effort to try and impress him.

— if you're a stoner, he's buying you cute shit. cute papers, a cute grinder, lighters and stash boxes.

— is either non-verbal while high or actually yapping with no in between, but the simple truth his, he wants to be touching you at all times.

— imagine js sitting there, chatting his ear off, reflecting on your day n he's just staring, completely engrossed. meanwhile his fingers have been trailing up and down your thigh...

— or, he's running his mouth while taking a hold of your hand, leaving chaste kisses all over your hand, face, neck, and lips, only quiet whilst doing so.

— would def always be down to smoke w you, he could never say no to his sweet girl.

— loves to smoke in a group with his brothers, closest friends, and you cause he is a big quality time guy, but there is something so satisfying about being alone with you, watching the way you move through the haze filling the room.

— i think he would get more jealous while under the influence, you just look so good and he knows what every other guy is thinking.

— he is obviously very touchy and needy when he's high, but he also speaks in such an insatiable way, voicing all his dirty thoughts with no reserve.

— "and that's when- wow i can't shut up" "i could think of a few ways to shut you up."

— and you're gagged. figuratively and literally.

— one day, the friend group is at a party or some type of event. you and matt are nowhere to be found though, tucked away in some large room behind a locked door, the window cracked open.

— the roach of a used up joint was thrown onto the bedside table, hands now busy with pulling each other impossibly closer.

— he had pulled you up onto his lap, large hands gripping your ass as you pressed against his hard-on. your lips were quickly pressed together in sloppy kisses, your hands exploring his torso enthusiastically, his grazing up your sides and ass.

— "you were sittin' so pretty down there for me doll. did you really expect me to not pay attention?"

— he grumbles out while his lips ghost over your neck. you practically melt into his hands.

— chris came banging on the door, talking about something neither of you had interest in. matt never faltered in his movements, continue to squeeze your ass and nibble on your neck and chest.

— "matt!" "shh, stay quiet for me baby, he'll leave soon."

— when chris persists, he's groaning loudly and laying you gently on the bed, leaving a final kiss to your lips. he swings the door open to reveal only himself, blood-shot eyes and lip gloss smeared over his lips. his hair was jostled every which way, chest heaving slightly.

— chris just grins and shakes his head, mumbling something to matt that undoubtedly makes him roll his eyes.

— "nick and i wanna go to this other party madi's going to, you gotta drive us."

— he immediately refuses and goes to shut the door, but somehow chris convinces him with the reasoning of "less people means less chance someone tries to barge in."

— side note, you always get whichever seat you want and aux when matt's driving, it makes the other two go insane.

— mornings when you both don't have anything important to do or wake up a little earlier than usual, he wants to do two things.

— 1. wake and bake

— 2. morning sex.

— i mean seeing you first thing in the morning, getting high, and then fucking you dumb? thats his own personal heaven.

— it's doesn't take long for you to end up face down whimpering into a pillow while he drills into you from behind, senses heightened by the drug.

— he's struggling himself to keep quiet, opting to let out small grunts and whimpering into your ear, otherwise biting his lip to stay quiet.

— you fill all of his senses so well, your sounds sounding so heavenly to him, your walls squeezing him so well while he thrusts into your tight cunt.

— "doing so good for me mama, takin' me so well." he strains out as he gets close. you're both especially sensitive, highs coming all too soon.

so sorry if this is bad y'all 😭

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff

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hueningsloverr · 3 months

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౨ৎ kiss her you fool !

pairing: established relationship!beomgyu x reader summary: dating beomgyu was rocky, simply because he didn't know how to kiss you. or how to ask. or when. luckily, he had his friends to guide him through it. word count: 1.0k extra: inspired by kids that fly's 'kiss her you fool'! apart of my valentines day series

beomgyu was not one to do things simply because it was asked of him. he 'marched to the beat of his own drum', or so his mom always told him growing up. and while it was his best quality, it was also his fatal flaw.

"no, we haven't kissed yet." he groaned, throwing his head back on his pillow as kai and taehyun laughed at him. it was an embarrassing thing to admit. six months dating, and he still hadn't worked up the courage to ask to kiss you.

he'd never kiss you without asking. his mom had raised him 'right'. and soobin would kill him if he tried.

kai continued snickering, even after beomgyu had practically rocket launched his pillow at the younger teen.

kai of all people was not one to laugh at others romantic endeavours, not with the state of his own love life.

"you gotta just ask man!" taehyun howled, falling back on himself as he clutched his sides, laughing so loudly beomgyu worried his parents would hear.

"you try to have a significant other!" beomgyu shot back, "a partner, who at that, is the prettiest person alive!"

kai's voice held a mocking tone, and then it was taehyuns turn to harass the boy. "it can not be that hard man!" kai giggled, as if he was a teenage girl on the phone. "just be like, hey, your lips and my lips would make an awe- ow! taehyun!"

taehyun grinned, turning his attention back to beomgyu. "the idiot's not wrong. just be polite. she's probably waiting for you to kiss her."

bviously, beomgyu was aware of that fact. he had long since stopped making excuses of his behalf, at this point it was simply a lack of guts. he had the rest of his life to live, so what if he embarrassed himself once in high school?

"don't be afraid dude," kai chimed in, and taehyun had half a mind to tell the teen to shut it. yet, kai was kai. he always made somewhat decent points at the end of the day. "dreams aren't found, they're made."

taehyun cackled, an exasperated, unbelievable, cackle. "shut up man!" he laughed, but beomgyu drowned out his younger two friends. they both were right.

quickly grabbing his phone, he texted you to meet him outside your house in 10 minutes. and with that he set off.

"i'll be back in a bit, you guys can leave whenever you want." he mumbled to his friends as he grabbed his coat and scarf off of his desk chair and sped out the door.

kai and taehyun were left completely clueless, but still giggling like mad men.

a quick walk through the park by your side, you practically freezing the entire way, was all beomgyu needed for a confirmation. he knew in most situations in life, he had endless attempts, yet somehow in that one moment it felt like he only got one chance.

stopping briefly at the steps to your house, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. he had half the mind to check it, but then he noticed you walking away.

"hey," beomgyu called out, his hand loosely reaching to grasp your wrist. it felt like every cliche moment in a movie ever. you always liked watching those movies this time of year. when the snow piled up so high outside it was a surprise school wasn't canceled, and the only thing left to do was watch movies.

"hm?" you grinned, turning back to look at your boyfriend. the streetlamp above gave you an etherial glow, and beomgyu felt his heart stop beating for a moment.

"don't go just yet." he whispered, inching closer. "there's more i want to say - more i want to do."

a soft look of surprise coated your face, and suddenly it was far too hot for it to be the middle of february. "what was it you wanted to say?" you mused, leaning closer to your boyfriend.

he felt his brain shut down.

there was no where to go.

no place to hide.

life presented him with two options, and neither seemed truly appealing. he could either let you go, or ask.

"i really like you," he blurted out, noticing how antsy you had become. you looked as uncomfortable as he felt - how fitting. "and i was wondering, you know, since we've been going out for so long…"

you leaned in again, as if following so closely behind his words you could guess what would come next.

"can i kiss you?"

your words caught him off guard. it wasn't supposed to go down like this - he was supposed to be the one to ask. it was supposed to be his romantic gesture.

beomgyu felt as the heat rushed to his cheeks, and he felt like all his defences had been knocked down. "oh," he managed to let out, eyes wide yet still so soft. all he could do was nod; a hesitant nod that said it all.

'i've been waiting for this'.

and before he could react, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his in a gentle yet determined kiss. his heart skipped a beat as he melted into the embrace, his mind going blank as he lost himself in the moment.

pulling away, beomgyu let out a soft gasp, and he watched in awe as you melted away from his grasp, up the steps, and into the warmth of your home. he could slowly feel the world around him shift back into focus, and the cold breeze began to penetrate his jacket.

it was still february after all.

and so, as he made his way back home, stumbling like an idiot drunk in love, he finally remembered to check his phone. his home screen was littered with notifications - mostly mundane things like a 394 day streak on duolingo to uphold, and pinterest board recommendations - but the most prominent was the oldest.

a simple text from taehyun that read "kiss her you fool!"

authors note: part 3!!! i've yet to have my first kiss... this may be wildly inaccurate. it most likely is. idk. also this is so late oh my god i meant to post it on like tuesday or wednesday but kept rewriting the kiss part😭

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bunkoos-mole-enthusiast · 12 days

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Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs:

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors :)

The Forgotten Spaces: You've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you? https://www.tumblr.com/oddinary4bts/714163315613614081/the-forgotten-spaces-masterpost-jjk?source=share When The End Comes: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook? https://www.tumblr.com/oddinary4bts/727637458044469248/when-the-end-comes-masterpost-jjk?source=share&ref=oddinary4bts

The Boy With Galaxies In His Eyes: You had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours? https://oddinary4bts.tumblr.com/post/694226660441128960/the-boy-with-galaxies-in-his-eyes-jjk

Sinful Lust: In an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating... https://www.tumblr.com/oddinary4bts/724853153529495552/sinful-lust-masterpost-myg-jjk?source=share

Oh My God, They Where (Quarantined)Roommates: What do you do when you're quarantined for months on end with Jeon Jungkook - S-tier cuddler, workout robot and thirst trap extraordinaire? Fuck him, you guess. https://ot7always.tumblr.com/post/624575056240050176/oh-my-god-they-were-quarantined-roommates

Once Bitten, Twice Shy: You meet Taehyung college and he convinces you to move to his hometown with him. The town is nice, Taehyung’s friend are great, and you get along with everyone except Jungkook. You can’t seem to figure out what you’ve done to make him not like you, and why did you care so much? Also, why did none of them ever get cold? https://www.tumblr.com/pbandjk/184635794224/once-bitten-twice-shy Alpha Jeon: You’ve been raised to be a Luna since you were born. You’ve always had an idea of how your future would be, there was little room to imagine anything different. You’d meet your mate and fall madly in love, and the two of you would take over for your parents once they got older. But what happens when a certain wolf comes in and throws all of your plans on their head? https://www.tumblr.com/pbandjk/636812449904017408/alpha-jeon-masterlist

Bite Me, Jeon: Somehow you convince Jeon Jungkook to look into theories of vampirism for a research paper. What Jungkook doesn’t expect, is for vampirism to become a very real and very personal problem for him. https://sailoryooons.tumblr.com/post/683613241221464064/bite-me-jeon

Habits Of A Clandestine Nature: College au. https://www.wattpad.com/story/365219172-habits-of-a-clandestine-nature-%E2%80%A2-jjk

Silver Chains: Jungkook is inquisitive, he likes asking questions. He also likes fucking. These are both great qualities - when done separately of course. After the Muster, he asks you numerous questions, but whether they were out of genuine interest or purely to tease, the answer escapes you (as always). https://satnin-darling.tumblr.com/post/654462205050355712/ silver-chains-m-one-shot-jeon-jungkook

#bts jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic recs #jungkook imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts fic recs #bts smut #bts imagines

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octoberclidan · 6 months

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Quality Time

Request: Hey can you write a soft Dean one shot of reader having a bad day? Like he helps her relax?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Note: I really liked working on this request today. I didn't get much sleep last night due to nightmares, hurt my foot this morning so the walk to work was pretty painful, somehow managed to cut my finger when I got home, and my foot is still sore at the end of the day. I wish I had a Dean.

Story:

[Y/N] lay in her bed, a pillow over her head and covers pulled up as far as they would go, completely cocooned from the world around her. It was late afternoon, and she'd been having a bad day that was just getting worse and worse. It had started with no hot water in the shower, then no food left for breakfast in the kitchen, then her car not starting when she wanted to go on a supply run, and since Sam and Dean had gone to help Donna out with something, she just had to walk. Then she couldn't find half the things she wanted to buy, then it rained on the way home, and then the handles on one of her shopping bags snapped halfway home and had to carry everything in her arms. She'd struggled to get back into the bunker while holding everything and had dropped several items onto the ground in the process, scraping her hand off her key when she reacted too quickly to grab everything. There still wasn't any hot water when she checked the showers again, and she'd ended up just slinking into bed after peeling off her soaked clothes, cold and shivering with a headache.

She didn't hear the knock on her door, or the squeak as the door slowly opened. "[Y/N]? You in here?" Dean's voice was muffled from under the pillow, but she heard him and sighed, pushing the pillow off her face and turning to face him. "Hey, what's wrong?" His eyebrows furrowed together in concern as her took in her state; he could clearly see that she'd been crying. He quickly made his way over to the bed and rested the back of his hand against her forehead. "Are you sick? Why didn't you call me? Or Sam?"

"I'm not sick", she sighed, pulling Dean's hand off her face but keeping it in her hand. "Just a headache, I'm having a bad day". Dean was the only person who [Y/N] allowed herself to be vulnerable with. He'd seen her at her very worst, and she'd seen him at his too. There was no question about the absolute trust between the two of them.

"Your hand is freezing [Y/N], are sure you're not sick?" He asked, his free hand moving to feel her cheek and then back to her forehead. "Why is your hair wet?"

"Got caught in the rain", she mumbled, but when Dean gave her a questioning look to tell her to elaborate, she sighed and told him about how her day had gone, keeping his hand in hers the entire time, enjoying the warmth and stability that it provided.

"Okay. I'll tell you what we're going to do to make your day better. I'll get Sam to have a look at the water situation, and in the meantime, I'll fill up a hot water bottle, get something hot for you to drink, and I'll get my laptop. We can watch something on it while we get you warmed up. How's that sound?" He pushed a strand of wet hair off her face and let his hand linger on her cheek. She nodded into it, closing her eyes and letting herself enjoy the warmth of his hand. "Okay. I'll be back in a few minutes, you just get some clothes on and wait here", he let go of her face and walked over to her chest of drawers, pulling out her fluffy pyjamas that she usually only put on when she wasn't feeling well. "Here, these will work", he set them down on the bottom of her bed and quickly leaned over to kiss the top of her head before leaving the room.

Reluctantly, she pushed back her covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She took a deep breath before grabbing the pyjamas, and lazily put them on. She quickly got back under the covers and closed her eyes, waiting in silence for Dean to come back. It wasn't long before her door was opened again, and she opened her eyes to see Dean in the doorway. He had his laptop tucked under one arm, a hot water bottle under the other, and a mug in either hand, both with steam flowing out of them.

"Hey Sweetheart", he smiled at her as he walked over to the bed. He handed her a mug which she quickly wrapped her hands around, then set his own down on the bedside table, along with his laptop. He shoved the hot water bottle under the covers where her feet were, and she immediately felt warmer. He had changed out of his jeans and was now wearing pyjama bottoms that [Y/N] had bought him for his last birthday, and an old t-shirt. "Room for one more?"

"Yeah", she said as she moved over in the bed, lifting up the covers for him. He quickly slid in beside her, but stopped her when she tried to pull the covers over him.

"You're gonna sit here, in front of me", he spread his knees and glanced down to the space on the bed he'd made between them. "Come on", he added when she gave him a questioning look. He helped her maneuver to between his legs, and then he pulled he covers up over her, leaving her hands out with her mug. He reached over and took a sip from his drink before grabbing the laptop and opening it, she heard a few clicks behind her and then he reached around her to set the laptop down in front of them.

"Scooby Doo?" She let out a small giggle as the cartoon started to play.

"Mhmm", Dean hummed, "the best for the best". She took a drink from her mug and was about to ask him why she needed to sit in front of him when she felt his hands on her shoulders. Knowing she was going to object to him doing something nice for her, he interrupted her before she could say anything.

"You're gonna let me help you to relax. I don't want to hear anything about you not deserving it, I don't want to hear anything about you not needing help. You've had a bad day, I can make it better, so let me". He began to knead his knuckles into her shoulders and it felt far too good, and she was also too tired to argue with him. She just nodded and took another sip from her drink, her mood lifting as she felt the vibrations of Dean's chuckle at a joke from the cartoon in front of them. His hands slowly moved to her neck, working out all of the knots he could find. He took his time with it, he wanted to make sure he was as thorough as possible. He gently pushed her forwards so he could work on her back. He slipped his hands up under her pyjama top, his hands were warm and though his skin was rough, his touch was gentle. He worked up and down, listening as her breathing became slower as episodes of the show played one after the other.

He had to wrap his hand around her front to stop her from slumping forward as she finally fell asleep. He grabbed her empty mug from her hands and put it beside his own, then reached forward to close his laptop and move it to the beside table too. He carefully slid back in the bed to lie down, pulling her down with him and turning her over to lie on her side facing away from him. He turned over and wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling her back against his chest so he could spoon her.

He'd had a tough day too. His trip with Sam out to see Donna hadn't gone so smoothly. The Impala had burst a tyre on the way there, the coffee he'd bought after had burnt his tongue, and the pie he'd ordered for lunch had mould on it. Donna had needed help with a simple ghost which should've been a breeze for them, but had managed to lock Sam out of the house straight away, making him useless, and had knocked Dean out the window into a dumpster. He'd needed to take three showers at Donna's after before the smell disappeared. He hadn't even had the energy to drive home so he'd had to give Sam the keys. Sam had insisted on playing his own music since he was the one driving, and as a result, the drive had felt three times longer than it actually was. When he'd finally got back to the bunker, all he wanted to do was see [Y/N]. He thought he'd have a chat with her then head off to bed, but when he saw how sad she seemed, he needed to take care of her. Every sip she'd taken from her drink, every giggle the cartoon had given her, every knot he'd worked out from her back, released some of his own tension.

He'd needed this quality time just as much as she had, and he would have the best night's sleep he'd had in a long time with her tucked safe and warm in his arms. He was sure that Sam would have fixed the hot water by the time they'd wake up in the morning, and then they could both start their next day right.

The end

Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @angelwiththeshotgun @pizzagirlxnsfwx

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shewrites7 · 9 months

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The First Step

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary - The first thing you do when you get back to your hometown of Chicago is pay Carmen, your oldest friend and maybe more than that, a visit at The Beef. When you land yourself a job there, the more he sees of you, the more he seems to push you away for reasons he isn't yet brave enough to tell you, even if all he wants is to be with you. But if he'd ever known you, he'd know that you weren't going to back down without a fight.

type - one shot (its a long one)

word count [16.6k]

tags: Carmy Berzatto x f!reader, friends to lovers, pining, slight miscommunication, a little angst, "stop pushing me away", hurt/comfort, and new promises.

warnings: swearing, mentions of grief/death, panic attack

a/n: check this out also on my ao3! <33

Carmen was tired, to say the least. He'd been working himself to the bone every damn day for the past few months, trying to get The Beef to a good, stable place. Somehow, as time went by, he'd only managed to dig himself a deeper grave. With the money they owed to Cicero, he knew, deep down, that the restaurant was, for lack of a better word, fucked.

But he kept holding on. He couldn't let go of it. He'd wonder, in the depths of night, why he was fighting so hard for this place when he could easily sell it to Cicero. If, maybe, he was holding onto someone. He didn't amuse the thought. He physically couldn't.

So he threw himself deeper into his work. Deeper into making The Beef a reputable place, with a professional working staff and high-quality food. It didn't matter that the others looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He didn't have the time to worry about that. He didn't have time for much of anything, which is why Sydney had been pushing for new hires. She'd said that they needed more hands in the kitchen, more workers up front, more of everything. They should be desperate.

That's why she'd spent hours putting up posters for new hires on what felt like practically every block of Chicago within a mile radius from the restaurant. And that's why you'd happened to stumble upon one of them while walking to a favorite pizza place of yours that you'd loved as a kid. It was one of the first things you'd planned on doing ever since you'd gotten back into the city. That and meeting up with some old friends who you'd missed with an ache in your chest. So, seeing the poster clinging to the utility pole saying that The Beef was hiring had your heart skip a little beat at the prospect of not only getting a job but seeing the people who had basically been your family growing up again.

It was a Friday morning when you'd stopped by The Beef, the rusted white sign sticking out like a sore thumb. A rush of aromas wafted against your nose when you walked in, and the front door made a jingling sound that was almost nostalgic.

No one was at the front register. In fact, you couldn't see anyone at all, only hear some muffled voices coming from the kitchen in the back. The voices grew louder as seconds went by, and you could tell they were shouts. The kitchen door then flew open, finally revealing the argument going on between two people, one being an unfamiliar woman in an apron, and the other being none other than Richie Jerimovich.

"Richie, I swear to God-"

"I already told you," came the booming voice of Richie, neither of them noticing your presence at the door. "Your foo foo plans for this place are not gonna fly, Sweetheart!"

With the way Richie was talking to her, you could see the woman's patience wearing thin as she rested a hand on her temple with shut eyes as he carried on. It was only when she reopened her eyes a few moments later that she noticed your presence.

"Hi," you said, making your way over to her. "I saw your poster, the one about looking for new hires-"

"Right, right." She offered a strained smile, stress seeming to stay with her. "I'm Sydney, you must be one of the job applicants?"

"Yeah, I'm-"

"A job applicant?" Richie's voice boomed through the room, his voice always projecting ten times louder than need be. You had to admit, you missed it. "F that bullshit, that's fucking Mars Bar!"

Sydney's eyebrows lowered at the shouted nickname, the one that the Berzattos had gifted you years ago after your favorite candy as a kid. You granted Richie a smile, him finally noticing you. "Nice to see you too, Richie."

He marched around the counter to engulf you in a bear-like hug that had you letting out a chuckled gasp from the impact, arms wrapping tightly around your back. He let go in a beat and slammed his hands down on the counter in excitement, always loud.

"Just wait till Carmy hears about his favorite girl being back, I swear to God."

Something fluttered through you at the mention of that name. Carmen's name. With a whirlwind of thoughts sifting through your mind, you almost missed the other name that Richie had called you, aside from Mars Bar. Carmy's favorite girl.

-----

Richie had barged into the kitchen with full vigor, slamming open the swinging door dangerously close to a nearby Tina.

"Cousin!" He moved through the different chefs' stations until he got to Carmen's, who was wrapped up in prepping and quite frankly had learned to tune out the sound of Richie's yelling for his own health. "Yo, Cousin!"

Richie boisterously grabbed a hold of Carmen's shoulders, rocking him a little and moving his hand that wielded a knife, cutting diagonally into beef he'd been pre-slicing.

"Shit," Carmen cursed, irritation forming. "What the hell is it, Cousin?"

Richie just laughed, a mind never paid to Carmen's annoyance. "Yea, you're pissed at me now, Carmy, but you're gonna think I'm pulling your dick when I tell you who's at the fucking register right now."

With a forever-present dull headache, Carmen sighed and shifted his focus to him, putting down his knife on the counter. He gestured a hand out to him. "Who's at the register, Rich-"

"The fucking love of your life, that's who!"

Richie gave Carmen a playful punch in the arm, but he remained unphased, a frown etched on his features. "See, what the fuck are you talking about? I don't have a love of my-"

"Two words, Cousin. Mars Bar."

Richie was right. Those two words really did do something to him.

"She- ... she's here?"

He rubbed his jaw, brain short-circuiting for a second as he tried to make sense of Richie's words. His eyes bore into Richie's never-serious ones, trying to grasp onto whether or not he was, just this one time. If he was messing with him, he didn't think he'd be able to take it.

"Yes, bro!" Yelled Richie, patting him on the back. "I swear to you. She's here, and hot as balls, too."

He squinted his eyes at him with a twinge of disgust, slightly shoving him to the side to get towards the door. He still didn't know if he believed it. You'd been traveling abroad on some grant that he, to be honest, didn't know much about. But you were doing great things. He couldn't guess why you'd come back to The Beef, of all places.

When he saw you through the window, he was lucky he was hidden behind the safety of the kitchen door because he couldn't control the way his body and mind froze at the sight of you. He took in the way your smile beamed out into the room as you spoke with Sydney, warm and unignorable, and he could've sworn something changed in the chemical makeup of his brain. Something that had his eyes widening and his feet planted in their place.

"What'd I tell you?" Richie's voice from behind him knocked him out of his trance. There was a smug, amused edge to his voice. "Now go and talk to her."

Carmen put a hand out, shooing him away. "I will. I just," he stopped, trailing off as he took in the way you truly seemed to glow after all the time spent away. He liked how it looked on you.

"Aww, don't tell me you're nervous now, Carm." Richie put his arms on Carmen's shoulders.

"Shut the fuck up." He shoved Richie off of him with a grimace, but his eyes never left you, jaw clenching as he followed your movements. "I'm not."

The pit in his stomach told him otherwise. He ignored the feeling, determined, and took in a breath before opening the kitchen door to the front of the restaurant, to where you stood.

At the sound of the door swinging open you finally turned your attention to him, lips coming to part with a subtle inhale that somehow left you feeling breathless.

"Carmen." You said his name with a grin, eyes lighting up, heart picking up its pace in your chest. You ran over for a quick, thoughtless hug that left his body partly on fire when you pulled away just as fast.

"Mars Bar." He uttered the old nickname endearingly, his voice cracking at the end of his words for some reason. He cleared his throat. "You're uh- you're here. In Chicago."

"Woah," Richie interrupted, coming in from behind, boisterous. "We've got a genius in The Beef, everybody!"

Sydney snorted from somewhere in the distance, but you couldn't even laugh because you'd been too busy staring at the way Carmen ran his hand through his golden hair that had been unruly since you were practically kids and still was.

"Yeah," you breathed, cringing at how awkward your voice sounded to your own ears. "I'm here."

The two of you held onto each other's gazes for a beat too long, scanning over the other wordlessly, taking in the changes that the years apart had brought.

"Well, uh," Carmen started, licking his lip to find strings of coherent words. "Do you wanna come into the office? Catch up?"

You nodded with a pleased tug of your lips. "Yeah, sure Carmen."

He nodded too and led the way, arm delicately resting on your upper back for a second in a way that left his fingertips buzzing, alive.

You entered the room after he did, the desk and walls littered with papers and sticky notes of different colors, an overload to the senses. It was stuffy, even with the door left open.

Before he turned to face you, he clumsily sorted some papers that'd been sitting on a wooden chair into stacks and pushed them onto the highest shelf above his desk so you could sit down, his white t-shirt slightly tugging upwards as he reached. Your eyes subtly followed the movement, eyes glancing steadily over a part of his lower abdomen that you felt alarmed at even sneaking a peak. That and the muscles that showed clearly from the short sleeves of his shirt.

God, you'd only been back in Chicago for a few days and your mind was already doing that thing it always did when you were around Carmen, like it didn't have the ability to think straight or act rationally when he was around.

"So, uh," Carmen started, turning his focus back to being one hundred percent on you. It became hard to concentrate when he did that, because he had the most piercing blue eyes you'd ever seen and you found over the years that they'd always had more than just one emotion swimming around in them. As you looked into them now, you still came up short in identifying them.

"What are you doing back in Chicago?" He looked at you like you were a puzzle, one he couldn't give up on solving. "Did the studies abroad finally start to bore you?"

"Yeah, they did," you joked, looking down at your lap. "Not really much to do in Europe compared to this place, you know?"

Carmen let out a wisp of a laugh, nodding, while also noting somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the first time he'd laughed in at least a few days. Your presence could always do that to him; Put him at ease when nothing else truly could.

"And, of course, I could only go so long being separated from the Berzattos."

He laughed again. That made twice. "Oh yeah?"

You nodded, playful in your words.

"I mean it." You did.

You let a comfortable silence nestle between the two of you, feeling the upward tug of your lips that you could only blame on Carmen. The thought left something alighted in your chest

"Seriously though." You say up a little straighter in your seat. "I guess the real reason I stopped by was because I was wondering if I could help out around here for a little while, now that I'm back home."

At this, the smile that had been resting on Carmen's face began to weaken.

"What?" His forehead creased, eyes dancing across your face with curiosity and disguised panic of his own.

Sensing his change in mood, you hurriedly continued. "I'll be home for a while and, you know, I just figured me getting a job here would be convenient and-"

"No."

You stopped mid-sentence, zeroing in on the man before you. "No?"

He had one hand leaning against the desk, the other's fingertips pressed to his forehead, head cast down, eyes evading yours.

"No, I- I'm sorry, Mars. We're ... we're not hiring right now. We don't need any new workers." At that, you frowned, taking in the tension in Carmen's stance and the tightness in his voice.

"I know The Beef is hiring right now, Carm." You gave him a disbelieving look. "In fact, I got the idea to work here from the flyers Sydney put up everywhere, so don't try and tell me you're not looking for new job applicants." You took a step closer to him, sensing something wrong and confused as to why he would lie, but he only seemed to be growing more agitated, shifting his posture upwards and no longer leaning on the table.

"That was a mistake, alright? I didn't ask her to do that. The Beef is doing perfectly fine, we don't need any extra help." Something sour was rotting in the undertones of his voice, the way he said the word help as if the thought of it was repellent.

"I didn't mean anything by asking. I ... I know you guys are doing fine, probably great even, I was just thinking that maybe I could-"

"We don't need any new fucking hires, Mars." He slammed his hand down on the desk, his tone raising so abruptly that it had you taking a step back in surprise.

When you looked up at him with alarm in your eyes, immediately his eyes began to soften, regret flooding through them. You held his gaze until those same eyes became taken over with this sudden guilt, almost sadness, flickering downwards towards his hands that moved to rest on his office desk, away from you.

You took a second to scan over the desk that was littered with papers and unsigned documents. It wasn't like Carmen to be unorganized, you knew that much. He had to be in a bad place to have his office look like this. Or, rather, Mikey's old office.

The room was a sensory overload, every inch of it a reminder of Mikey. Anyone would go crazy spending their days in here. Especially if that someone had been his little brother.

Carmen rubbed his hands over his face. You took a step next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder that lit aflame from the heat he gave off.

"For what it's worth," you started softly, and Carmen had to fight a shiver at how close your voice was to him. "I miss Mikey too."

He didn't make any movement to turn towards you, his jaw clenched and eyes still staring downwards. He didn't know what made you feel like you had to say that to him. He didn't need to look at you, though, to know you truly meant it.

"You can't work here," he said, his voice sounding defeated and a little far away. "I'm sorry."

Something restless in your heart was determined to make you fight back, figure out why Carmen was refusing you without a good reason. But something else inside of you softened at the way Carmen wouldn't meet your eyes, seeming guilt-stricken, and decided to back down. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder gave him a final squeeze.

You took your leave for the office door without Carmen moving an inch.

"Bye, Carm." Your voice was unfairly soft towards him, even if he felt like he didn't deserve the kindness that thrummed from your heart. "It was nice seeing you." You paused. "I've missed you."

Before he could turn to say goodbye, somehow communicate the 'I've missed you too' that he'd been meaning to express since he'd seen you, you had already turned down the hallway, out of sight. He knew for sure, then, that you didn't deserve that response from him. But he just didn't know how to tell you. How to explain without sounding ridiculous why alarms sounded in his brain at the thought of you working at The Beef.

He'd always known that you were destined for more than just the life you'd shared with him as kids, where you scored straight A's and were one of the top in your class. When you'd left for college while he stayed put, he didn't even let himself miss you, because he'd just wanted what was best for you. And when you furthered your studies even after college, traveling abroad, he knew that was the life you were meant for. To see you stopping all of that to work at The Beef, the place where his brother's dreams had become nothing but dead ends as time went on, wouldn't settle right inside of him.

Worst of all, he had visions of you working in the kitchen, behind the scenes where tensions were constantly overwhelming, of him losing his cool in front of you and you seeing a side of him he tried to keep you far away from. You'd always known the youngest brother Carmy, the world-class chef Carmy, the one who was at his best around you. He couldn't imagine what he would do if suddenly he revealed the Carmy he tried to hide; the Carmy who worked at The Beef, a bundle of unstable frustration who was barely hanging on, the Carmy who still didn't know how to live life without Mikey but who melted from your touch, who wanted more from the girl who'd been at his side for so many years as nothing but a friend, and a great one. He couldn't risk losing that.

Especially not with the condition of The Beef at the moment, which needed his full focus. Having you around would definitely not allow for that. So he convinced himself that this was for your own good. For his own good.

When you rounded the corner back out into the front of the restaurant, Richie was still there behind the counter, holding a phone to his ear.

You smiled at him a little tiredly and silently waved goodbye, walking towards the door.

Richie frowned, removing his focus from the phone call. "Where the hell are you leaving to so fast?" You spun around. "Don't tell me Carmy scared you off already."

You laughed awkwardly and thought of what to say, but must have taken too long to answer because Richie's face was already contorting with an over-the-top grimace.

"What'd that moron say to you, huh?"

You put a hand out, trying to calm him. "Richie, it's nothing, really-"

He was already stalking off towards the office, muttering something about 'killing Carmen'. You shook your head to yourself, because you knew how headstrong both of them were, and turned towards the exit. And, as you finally opened the glass door to leave, you could hear yelling and shouted vulgar words coming from the office. You didn't stay long enough to listen.

You didn't know what to think when it happened. You'd been sitting at home all weekend, alone, and honestly truly bored and wondering if coming back home was the right choice when your phone started ringing. You checked the screen and it was an unknown caller, but boredom had you picking it up anyway.

Mars Bar!

"Hello? Who is this?"

It's me.

"..."

Richie.

"Ohh ... right. How did you get my number again?"

I asked around. Anyways, it doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be telling you that you're gonna start work tomorrow.

"What? Start work? Where?"

At The Beef. C'mon Mars catch up with me here.

"Sorry, I'm just ... confused. Carmen told me you guys weren't hiring and that he couldn't give me a job?"

Oh, that. Don't worry about Carmy. I set that moron straight.

"What are you saying?"

I'm saying, you got the job kid!

"Richie, are you fucking with me right now?"

No! Why does everyone always think I'm fucking with them? I'm fucking serious hon.

"Okay, okay! I ... I believe you. I think."

You better! Carmy is really fucking stoked to have you work here, I mean it.

"He ... he is?"

Sure! So I better see your ass Monday morning, capeesh?

"Y-yea I guess so."

Your heart really should not have fluttered the way it did when Richie told you that Carmen was supposedly excited to see you. He hadn't sounded like it when you'd brought it up to him. In fact, he seemed strangely opposed to the idea, like you'd hit a sensitive area.

You weren't sure if you could really believe Richie. Like you'd always known, Carmen was stubborn as hell. The change of heart was unexpected, to say the least. You didn't know what to think. You still didn't know, as you walked through the front entrance of The Beef the next day, ready to start work. The only person to greet you at the front was Richie, standing behind the counter, per usual.

"Cousin!" He gestured you over. You greeted him back and rounded the corner to stand behind the counter next to him, unused to the feeling after spending years on the other side of it.

Richie spent at most two minutes giving you a rundown of what you'd be doing at The Beef, merely distracted by some yelling in the kitchen. The brief directions consisted mostly of taking orders and ringing a bell. A real challenge.

"Yeah, so that's basically it." He gave you a pat on the back and your front almost hit the counter at the impact.

"No paperwork or formalities or anything?" You were almost suspicious of the fast speed at which this had all happened. Richie whipped his head around like you'd stated something crazy.

"Formalities? C'mon, what are we, the fucking White House? This is a family business, Cousin."

He patted you on the shoulder roughly. "Thanks, Richie," you said, both slightly amused and slightly unnerved. You tapped your fingers on the marble countertop, trying to seem casual. "Where's um ... where's Carmy?"

Richie scratched his head. "He's, uh, he's busy. He'll be out soon. Don't you worry, shortcake." He gave you a wink that you didn't know what to do with and turned back towards the kitchen. You were gonna have to talk to him about those nicknames in the workplace sooner or later.

You called out to him before he left into the kitchen, hesitant. "You're sure Carmen said he wants me to work here, right?"

Your eyes bore into Richie's for a moment, and it was almost like you could see the thoughts in his head visibly swarming about. His shoulder raised. "Well, he didn't exactly say he wanted you to, but anyone with fucking eyes can see that he wants you-"

"Richie!" Your jaw hung open in utter annoyance and bafflement. He frowned at you.

"What?"

You almost scoffed. "Did Carmen really not say it was okay for me to work here?" You looked around, bewildered. "Does he even know I'm here?"

Richie gestured his hands out to you. "Sure he does!"

You could tell just from his tone what your answer was. You put a hand on your hip, shaking your head to yourself. "I'm going in there to talk to him."

"No!" Richie's eyes widened. "No. Just calm down, and I'll talk to him."

You stared at him disbelievingly. He stared back at you challengingly with the confidence only Richie could have. "I'll be back in no time. I know what I'm doing, trust me."

Richie didn't know what he was planning on doing when he opened the door to the kitchen in search of Carmen. He just hoped he wasn't using a knife when he found him.

He turned a few corners before Carmen was in his line of view, hunched over the counter as he worked busily on something Richie couldn't see. He leaned against the counter next to him, watching Carmen as his focus didn't even falter.

"Carm."

He didn't get a reply, just the back of Carmen's head as he focused on reading the piece of paper in front of him, hand braced against the shining surface it lay on.

"Carmy."

The man in question slowly shifted his focus to the man next to him, whose distracting presence had become impossible to ignore. "What? What is it?"

Richie peered down at him. "Promise that you won't get mad."

Carmen's eyes narrowed. "What the hell did you do?"

"Just promise me you won't fucking blow up at me like you always do."

"Why would I promise that if I don't even know what the hell you did?"

Richie tipped his head back exasperatedly. "Just say you promise!"

"I fucking promise! Okay?" Carmen ran a hand through his hair, moving it again to cross his arms. "Now, what is it?"

Richie paused, kicking out his foot and casually peering down at it with feigned interest. "Mars Bar is outside right now. Again."

Carmen's forehead creased and he looked over at Richie with sudden alarm. "What? Why? Is she okay?"

Richie gave him a knowing look, smug for a moment. "Yeah, she's fine." He shrugged. "I just, um, might have given her a job here up at the register."

Carmen's face was unmoving, his tone raising with poorly hidden anger. "You what?"

"And I might've also told her you really wanted her to work here."

Carmen's eyes scanned Richie's sporadically like he couldn't process his words fast enough. "Wh- Why the fuck would you do that? I already told her no-"

"Yeah, and I told her yes. Because you're an idiot and I'm saving your ass. You're welcome!"

Carmen ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "For what? Fucking me over?"

"I did not fuck you over, Carm, I'm doing this for you!"

Carmen shook his head, anger bleeding its way through his mind. "What the hell are you talking about? I told you, Richie, I don't want her anywhere near this place. I- I thought that was understood."

"No, it was not fucking understood because it was a stupid idea." Carmen let out a scoff as Richie put his hands out to Carmen in a calming gesture. "This is a good thing, trust me."

Carmen sputtered. "How the fuck is it-"

"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, Carm!" Richie shouted, bravely putting a hand up in front of Carmen's face. He pointed his finger at him which Carmen regarded with annoyance. "You need to stop being a moron and pushing away every single fucking female that tries to come within ten feet of you, alright?"

Carmen's brows furrowed even further, confusion building alongside anger. "I really have no goddamn idea what your point is here, Richie, but this has nothing to do with-"

"Oh spare me, Cousin!" He shouted. "We all know you've had the hots for Mars Bar over there since you were kids, alright?"

Carmen's mouth clamped shut immediately at this, his breathing coming out in fumes. He shook his head back and forth.

"Is this what this whole fucking thing is about, you jagoff?"

"Woah woah woah!" Richie cut in. "I am not the jagoff here, Cousin. I'm helping you out!"

"Richie's right, Carm," cut in Fak from behind, appearing suddenly out of nowhere like he always seemed to.

"Shut the fuck up, Fak!" Carmen held his head in his hand, trying to grab hold of his temper that he could feel slipping out of control. He needed to breathe.

"She can't work here."

Richie raised his arms in a shrug. "Well, you're gonna have to go tell her that yourself."

"I fucking will."

Carmen stormed off towards the kitchen door, ready to tell you yet again that you had to leave, a daunting thought overlooked thanks to adrenaline. Richie chuckled from behind him. "Yeah right, like you're gonna fire her."

Carmen didn't let himself listen to Richie any longer. Fists clenched at his sides, he opened the door and there you were, standing there, looking confused and a little surprised with parted lips.

Richie came up from behind and patted him on the back. "Go on, Carm. Tell her." You watched as Carmen's jaw clenched.

Carmen really wanted to tell you that you couldn't work here. That you had to go home. That you had to run far away from this place and go back to studying abroad and being more successful than any of them and all of that bullshit. Maybe it was because your eyes were shining a little too bright in the restaurant lighting, or that they looked a little too hopeful as they stared back at him with raised brows, waiting. But he didn't say anything of those things.

"You..." he started. Your eyebrows raised further. His palms suddenly became sweatier. He took a breath in.

"You, um," a beat passed. He licked his lip. "You're gonna need an apron."

Your eyes lit up even more if possible, and he thought his heart would give out. Then, you ran up and threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug, and he genuinely questioned if his brain had short-circuited because, by the time he came back to reality, you'd already pulled away and were practically jittering with excitement from in front of him.

"Thank you so much, Carm." Every time you smiled at him in that way he felt himself lose a bit of control. He didn't like the feeling. "You won't regret it."

He smiled back at you because he couldn't not. He wasn't so sure.

Carmen had given you your apron. When he'd handed it to you, you'd brushed fingers and your heart skipped a little beat at the contact. That had been the most eventful thing to occur within the next four days.

You'd done practically nothing at The Beef all week. There'd been a noticeable lack of customers coming into the restaurant to take orders, and those who did oftentimes came in just to see Richie, which had you leaning against the counter waiting and listening to their loud conversations with the man.

It felt like there was some sort of prank being played on you. Surely they wouldn't pay you money for doing absolutely nothing. All the waiting around doing close to nothing made you antsy, frustrated, and confused.

You'd been meaning to address this to Carmen, to ask what you were doing wrong, but getting a hold of him was near impossible. You'd seen so little of Carmen that you couldn't even be sure he came into work most days, the only confirmation being his shouts coming from the kitchen at the others. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you became jealous of them. You'd take Carmen shouting orders at you in the kitchen any day over him saying nothing to you at all. It almost felt like he was avoiding you.

It was a Thursday night, and the antsy feeling inside of you had you staying late at work that night, wiping down tables with an intense amount of fervor.

You'd thought you were the last one in The Beef. It'd been dark for hours, but you had nobody and nothing exciting waiting for you at home, so working a little extra couldn't hurt. And, if it made Carmen notice your position at The Beef at least a little bit, it would be worth it.

As your thoughts drifted to the man, something made a noise from the kitchen, and it became apparent to you that maybe you weren't the only one working late that night.

"Hello?" You'd said aloud, your voice slightly echoing in the vacant restaurant. No response was returned. You slowly went back to scrubbing down a table against the far wall from the kitchen door when it swung open, and there stood Carmen Berzatto in his patchwork wool jacket, looking like seeing you was the last thing he'd expected.

The sight was jarring to you for a number of reasons. You jumped up speedily and tucked the rag you'd been using to clean tables slightly behind you as if he hadn't already seen you using it.

"Mars Bar?" He said, the nickname falling easily from his lips like it was the only one he'd ever known you by. He eyed your tense stance.

"Hey, Carmen." Your smile was just as unnatural. His eyebrows pulled downward at you, eyes squinting and blinking confusedly in the dim lighting like he was fighting sleep.

"What are you doing here so late?" You nibbled at your own lip. Carmen, even from across the room, made sure to follow the movement. You noticed him eye the rag in your hands.

"I was just cleaning off some of the umm ... some of the tables." You didn't know why you sounded so embarrassed. You also didn't know what was going through Carmen's mind as he looked over you, and then over the spotless tables behind you.

"Wow," he began, running a hand through his hair. "You really didn't have to do all this. It's not ... it's not part of your job, you know?" A feeling bitter and stale simmered inside of you.

"I know." You stood up straighter. "Maybe I just wanted to.

You wanted to say more in the moment, tell him all of your frustrations, but you didn't. You just stared back at him and watched as he walked towards where you stood by the tables. You didn't move an inch.

His eyes surveyed the tops of the tables and he marveled at how clean they were. Not just clean, but almost sparkling, even in the low lighting that came from a single overhead lamp and the streetlights from outside.

"You did a great job, Chef."

Your eyebrows raised unintentionally. He'd never called you that before, though you'd heard the name from his lips aimed at others countless times. He noticed your reaction.

"What?" He asked, eyeing you curiously. He leaned back against the table next to you, his beautiful stare almost becoming a little too much for you after a long day. You shrugged.

"Nothing. It's just," you paused, "you've never called me that before."

His expression was slightly confused, slightly amused. "Well," he began, gaze shifting from the ground to you. "Now I do. You work here, don't you?"

The question settled uncomfortably in your chest, and you let out a laugh that sounded just as strained. "Hardly."

Carmen's eyebrows flashed downwards in a quick frown. "What do you mean 'hardly'?" You felt his eyes scanning your face, scanning you. "What's up?"

You went back to rubbing at the corner of a nearby table with your rag if only to distract yourself from Carmen's gaze and the petty way your words sounded coming from your lips.

"I mean," you began. "It feels like I haven't really done much of anything around here, you know?" When he didn't say anything back, you continued. "I've only taken a handful of customer's orders in the past couple of days. And, I know I'm not the best cook in the world but I could definitely help out in the kitchen with something. Maybe I could cut up some stuff, or prep it, or whatever you guys call it. Anything, really."

He didn't say anything right away, and you became horrified that you'd pushed his buttons too many times in the last week with your rants and that he'd finally send you on your way once and for all. Then, you heard something like a laugh come from him. You reeled back.

"Is something funny?" You asked, your tone uncharacteristically sour. He silenced his amusement and looked at you intently.

"You've always been such an overachiever, Mars."

You paused, then shook your head. "Oh please, we all know you're the ambitious one."

"No, not when we were kids," Carmen argued. "I was never great in school. You, on the other hand," he chuckled under his breath. "My mom would have me go check in on you whenever we hadn't heard from you on a night before a test. Make sure you weren't overdosing on coffee and pop."

You swore you could feel your heart beating in your chest at Carmen's revelation and the fondness in his voice.

"You know," Carmen began again, getting lost in memories. "I think my mom used to have this theory I'd marry you one day or something. Said you were the only girl who'd put up with my stubbornness."

Oh my God. Your head was spinning. Why was he saying this? He didn't know what the hell he was doing to you. Or your heartbeat, which was concerningly gaining speed. He never did.

All you could say was, "Oh?"

He laughed some more like this was something casual, something funny. You couldn't help but notice that forever present weight present in his eyes, though. Something he could never seem to shed.

"Yeah, well," Carmen began again, "my mother has also been mentally unstable for years, so." He jokingly trailed off, his voice dying in the silence, along with any butterflies you'd felt. You laughed quietly, even if laughing was the last thing you wanted to do when hearing that.

You felt like you were being suffocated. By him and his blue eyes and his dry, self-deprecating jokes and the small quirk of his lips. You were also getting restless because you'd started off trying to talk with Carmen about your job, and now were getting lost in the haze of your feelings for him which you decided were useless and would get you nowhere. You cast them aside the best you could and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Carmen," you said. His attention focused directly on you. "Did you listen to any of the things I said about working here?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he assured you. "Of course."

"So, will you take them into consideration? Let me do more, Carmen. I can do more."

There was a beat of silence. He fidgeted, like he did when he was a boy and couldn't focus in class, or when he was nervous around a girl he'd liked. Nervous around you.

He wanted to say yes. Hell, he would've given you anything you'd asked for just to see you happy. But he didn't know what the consequences of giving you a more important role at The Beef would achieve. What it might stop you from achieving. What it might do to him. So, he didn't say anything. Not anything direct.

"I know you can, Mars." He exhaled and then put his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight. We can talk about this more in the morning. Okay?"

His response was like a smack in the face. A sharp pain that left a dull ache. You let a breath out and tried to keep your face from revealing your stubborn frustration. You slowly nodded. "Okay."

Even if you tried to contain your emotions, Carmen could see it. He noticed it in the quick flare of your nostrils as you breathed, in the slight clench of your jaw. Stupidly, he asked, "Is that okay?"

You weren't looking at him. You were looking at your feet. You tapped your foot once. "Yes."

Even more stupidly, he asked, "Are you sure?"

You finally shifted your focus to him and he felt his own jaw clench at the way it sent a rush down his spine.

"Yeah, Carmen." That was the first time he didn't like the way you said his name.

"Alright," he said, nodding slowly, lifting his bag higher on his shoulder.

"Alright."

You lifted the rag from the table, stood there for a second, and walked towards the counter, where you wrung it out and slapped it down into a bucket full of other dirty rags, and left it there. You didn't feel much like putting it away.

Carmen hadn't moved and just stood there by the tables, watching as you collected your coat from behind the counter and turned off the lights as you walked past.

When he saw you walking towards the door, he rushed to get there first, to open it for you. You beat him to it, opening it yourself. He closed it and locked the door behind him. You both were engulfed by the dull chill of the air right away, and you couldn't help but shiver.

Carmen turned to you. "Let me drive you home." He didn't dare offer you a lighthearted smile or anything of that sort. He didn't think he had it in himself to be lighthearted, anyways.

You gifted him a polite one with a short tug of your lips. "I have a car. Thanks."

Carmen could've smacked himself right there. "Right." He didn't know what was wrong with him. "Sorry." The apology was for more than just his assumption, but he couldn't bring himself to clarify.

"I'll walk you to your car then?" He asked, though you knew no matter what you said he'd make sure you'd get to your car safely either way.

"Okay, yeah."

You both turned to walk to your car, Carmen letting you take the lead for a moment before catching up to walk side by side with you. You were hit with the reality that Carmen Berzatto was walking you to your car, alone with you, at midnight. A small gesture that had your mind buzzing from the contrast between your love for him and your frustration with him. Nobody had come close to making you feel the emotions Carmen made you feel, even if no words were shared between both of you on that short walk. It felt completely silent. Somehow, even if the streets of Chicago were anything but, it felt silent.

Carmen thought about how his life was full of silent moments, never saying what he truly wanted to, to the people he wanted to speak to the most. When he noticed you were cold, even through your jacket, he walked a little closer to you. Whether you noticed it or not, he didn't know, but at least it soothed a small part of his mind that was blaring that night, telling him that he'd fucked up with you. That you deserved better. He couldn't help but think that same thing when he was around you, all the time.

You'd both crossed the street to reach your car in not even a full minute, but the walk had felt eternal to you. When you turned to Carmen to tell him goodnight, he was already looking at you intently. You wanted to ask what he was thinking, but you didn't, and unlocked your car.

"See you in the morning, Carmen," you said, tone unrevealing. He gave you his best neutral smile.

"Yeah. See you, Mars."

You went to open your car door, but this time he beat you to it. Even if he made you angry, he was still Carmen.

You watched as he rounded the front of your car back to the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, soft breathing visible in the cold from the white puffs it made in the air as he breathed.

You gave him one last wave as a goodbye, but by that time he was pretty much out of vision, and then drove away.

He watched your car drive down the street, stop at the light, turn the corner, and then glide out of view.

Immediately, he knew he should've said more on the walk to your car. He should've at least apologized. He didn't tell you that he was sorry for being so shitty. He didn't tell you he appreciated everything you did. He also didn't tell you his car was parked on the opposite end of the street.

And as he walked back to it, crossing The Beef again with its spotless tables, he thought about nothing except you.

The next morning had you waking up with a headache that only worsened when you stepped foot into The Beef. Your coworkers were shouting and blurting out orders in typical kitchen lingo that you honestly didn't fully understand.

There seemed to be an underlying tension simmering in the air that morning that had everyone's voices raised just a little bit more than usual, echoing through to you from your designated spot behind the front counter.

You figured out soon that that tension came from the review of The Beef that had been put in the paper the night before. It was the same topic that had Sydney and Richie arguing back and forth for minutes on end next to you.

"So this is a war on poor people?" You heard Richie ask as you finally tuned back into their yelling. "I see you."

"No," Sydney yelled back. "This is a war on you shutting the fuck up and learning how to use the tablet! The end dude."

"What is the end?"

You turned to your left to see Carmen stride out of the kitchen, looking every bit intense, shoulders hunched and rigid. He glanced at you in some form of a greeting for only a second before putting himself between Richie and Sydney and somewhat settling their argument.

"Are we ready?" He asked them with a rushed tone.

"No!" Sydney snapped, but headed back into the kitchen with Richie, even if you could see she wanted to punch the man in the face.

You turned back around to watch Carmen as he hurriedly ran a hand through his hair and started to rush back into the kitchen. You tried to catch his eyes, but he didn't meet your gaze.

"Um, Chef?" You tried to call, reaching out an arm to get his attention just a hair too late, him brushing past you without taking notice of you.

"Carmen?" This time he turned around, head flipping around to focus on you with eyes shot wide in the rush.

"What's up?" He asked, eyes quickly assessing your face. For a second you forgot what you were supposed to be asking.

"Did you, um, think about what I said last night?" He blinked back at you. "You said we'd talk about it in the morning, so, could we maybe talk about it?"

With the way he stared back at you, for a second you could've sworn he'd forgotten what you were talking about. Then, it had clearly dawned on him and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, holding out a hand to his head.

"No, yeah, right." He thought for a second, and then looked around, peeking into the kitchen, attention clearly spread elsewhere.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "Can we just ... talk about this another time?"

You tried not to show your frustration. "Like when?"

"Uh," Carmen started, but he was already backing into the kitchen. A loud clanging noise of pots and pans rang through to the front, and his focus was completely lost. "Who the fuck keeps denting my pans, Chefs?!" He shouted. He threw the kitchen door open and moved to go inside, but not before calling out "We'll talk later, Chef!" and disappearing into the kitchen.

You groaned. "Later," could mean any time between that day and Easter. You didn't want to blame Carmen. You knew he was extremely busy and tended to overwork himself. But something in the back of your mind told you he was avoiding you. You didn't like the feeling.

It'd only been maybe an hour into the day when all hell started to break loose in the kitchen. At least from what you could hear. There was three times as much yelling as usual and people were weaving through the station by the front counter and the kitchen, shouting sandwich orders. Meanwhile, you felt lost and unhelpful, with no direct answer as to what was going on.

You'd spent your time filling up the napkin dispenser and cutting green tape, feeling your uselessness in your bones. Maybe Carmen was right. Maybe you were overly ambitious. That didn't change the fact that now it seemed like not just Carmen, but everyone else had gone out of their way to keep you away from the kitchen.

You'd thought about going in there anyway, but thought better of it when listening to the commotion. That was, until you saw Marcus with his bags taking his leave towards the exit, a look of both anger and defeat on his face.

"Woah, Marcus," you called out with furrowed brows. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

He let out a quick breath from his nose that sounded like it was supposed to be a wry laugh. He pointed towards the back. "Anywhere but in that kitchen." You frowned and he shook his head. "He's losing his shit, man."

You were confused and looked to him for more of an explanation, but he was already walking out the door and it didn't seem like he had any plans of coming back. You wanted to ask him "who?", but you had a sinking feeling in your gut telling you that you already knew just who he meant.

That and the loud "Fuck!" that came from the other side of the wall was the last push you needed to finally storm into the litchen. As soon as you walked in, it was a complete overload to your senses. The sounds and smells of sizzling food, the clunky buzzing of timers, and an argument at practically every corner. What had you reeling to a stop, though, was the sight of Carmen shouting truly throat-tearing orders, face turning red with exertion, hair damp from sweat, skin gleaming in the sight.

"Can somebody get me a Sharpie that fucking works?!" he screamed while whipping a Sharpie out of his hand and onto the ground. Your eyes widened at the sight.

"Woah," you said aloud, not even meaning to say the word but being unable to stop yourself. When you did, Carmen's focus switched onto you in a second and you could see the pure chaos held behind his eyes.

"Wh- what the fuck are you doing in here?"

You frowned at his abruptness. "I just wanted to know what the hell is going on in here-"

"Nothing is going on in here."

Someone laughed from around the corner and about three more timers began to buzz and beep.

"Oh please, I've been hearing screaming for hours and then I see Marcus storming out of here with his things saying you've lost it."

At that, Carmen paused, eyes searching yours intently. "Marcus left?"

"Yeah," you answered steadily, unsure of how exactly he'd react. "It looked like he was quitting."

For a second, it looked like Carmen felt guilty, sad, but then he was fuming and slamming his hands down on the counter.

"Fuck!" He shook his head back and forth like he was rummaging through a thousand thoughts swirling around his head. He shouted again. "Fuck!"

You didn't like the sight before you, or the way Carmen seemed to be losing control of himself, and quickly. "Now can you tell me what the problem is?" You almost pleaded. "I could help."

Carmen hardly bothered to look you in the eyes and strode past you to reach the oven you'd been standing by, lifting the lid of a pot and adjusting the heat at lightning speed.

"You're not seriously ignoring me right now when I'm offering to help-"

He put up a hand. "I told you I'd talk with you later, Mars. Go back to the register."

You scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about? That's-" you shook your head. "I'm not leaving until I at least know what the fuck is going on."

"You wanna know what the fuck is going on?" Richie shouted out, laughing to himself loudly as he appeared from behind the corner. "Some moron left the pre-order option open on her beloved tablet overnight and now we're 250-something beefs behind schedule!"

Your head was spinning from the news and from the lack of air in the kitchen, but the yelling kept coming.

"Okay, well, the 'moron' is right here and she has a name, thank you," cut in Sydney, livid. "And there is no fucking way you are putting all the blame on me right now, Richie-"

"Who else's fucking fault is it sweetheart?"

"Richie, I swear to God if you call me that one more time-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Carmen's booming voice split the two of them apart. "Shut the fuck up and get back to work!"

They listened and went back to their stations angrily mumbling to themselves. That didn't change the fact that you knew the kitchen was in deep shit and Carmen was one wrong move away from losing his mind. You watched as he stormed around the kitchen to different stations. You'd be an idiot if you just stood at the register waiting for more nonexistent orders.

"Sydney," you called out as she passed by. "What can I do to help?"

She raised the corners of her lips in a slightly surprised smile and thought for a second.

"You can probably start by helping me with peeling these potatoes for now." She handed you a basket filled with potatoes and pointed towards a metal peeler on the counter. You quickly nodded.

"Okay, on it, Chef."

"Great. Oh, and-"

"Sydney, what the fuck are you doing?" yelled Carmen as he rounded the corner behind Sydney. He glanced angrily back and forth between you and the potatoes in your hands.

Sydney rolled her eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing, Chef? I'm getting us some very much necessary extra help."

"We don't need any fucking extra help right now!"

Sydney turned fully to face him. "Carmy what the fuck is your problem right now? Just let her fucking peel some potatoes!"

Carmen was breathing heavily, a vein in his neck visibly contracting."I told you guys she stays out front. I told everyone she's not supposed to-"

"Excuse me?" You asked, cutting in. He was talking about you like you weren't standing right behind Sydney, hearing his every shouted word. "Sydney's right. You need to stop getting so worked up about this!"

Carmen looked like he wanted to scream. To break out into shouts even louder than even those from this morning. You'd only seen Carmen worked up like this a few times before and even then he knew when he was taking things too far.

He didn't say anything back to you and just turned away.

"Someone just get her out of here!" He hollered, to anyone who'd listen. Anyone but you. Somehow, that was even more angering than his yelling.

"Hey!" You yelled, shoving his shoulder back to turn him to face you. He glanced down towards the same shoulder before looking back towards you. You saw something haughty flash behind his eyes as they stared back at you. "Whatever you need to say about me, you can say it to me, Carmen."

He was definitely speaking to you now.

"I need you to stay the fuck out!" He pointed a finger down at you. "You never fucking listen to me! I gave you this job because you fucking asked me to, because Richie fucking asked me to. So how about you finally listen to me and stay the fuck out?!"

You knew everyone had stopped to watch. It was quieter in the kitchen than it had been all morning.

You both stood standing there with heavy breathing. Your mind couldn't think of what to say back in that moment, but a thousand different responses played through your mind. Things you wanted to ask, to shout, to make sure he understood.

Your stare bore into Carmen's own for a few seconds, noticing the anger in them, but also something fragile threatening to shatter and reveal itself. He looked away from you quickly, bracing a hand on the counter.

"Leave, Chef." He said. You didn't need to be asked twice. Not that he was asking.

"Yeah," you laughed under your breath. You untied your apron and left it on the counter. "I definitely will."

He could call you Chef, but he wouldn't even let you enter the kitchen. He could yell at you, but he couldn't even look you in the eyes as you finally left the kitchen.

Another timer went off in the background as Carmen stood there, mulling over what he'd just done in his head; the one thing, most of all, he didn't want to happen.

Sydney shook her head, brushing past him. "Carmen Berzatto, you are a fucking idiot."

He didn't have anything to say, nothing to argue back with. He knew she was right. And as he heard the front door jingle as a sign of you leaving, he also knew just how badly he'd fucked up.

You didn't come to work the next day, or the day after that. Carmen never got to listen for the jingle of the doorbell as you came into work. He didn't get a single glimpse of you, those glimpses that were like caffeine shots, keeping him going every day. He didn't see your warm, familiar eyes that reminded him why he kept going in the first place. This was what he got for trying to keep you at arm's length. For being an asshole. The regret knawed at him painstakingly.

When the first hour went by and you didn't show up, he didn't need anyone to tell him that you wouldn't come into work that day. He had Richie cover the register in your place, an order shouted quickly as he was forced to think about things other than you. And as the day went on, the fact that he didn't know when he'd see you again was a heavy weight that lay in his chest, waiting to be addressed.

You awoke that morning in your apartment, phone lighting up beside you on your bedside table to four missed calls all from the same person. A person you didn't really feel like talking to much.

You checked the time and saw it was almost noon. It wasn't like you to sleep in. And, you hadn't called in sick to work. Not that it mattered.

The next day went the same. You hadn't called in sick that morning either, but you didn't have it in you to care. You didn't even know if you wanted to come back, but there was a twisting feeling inside of you that you knew wouldn't feel release until you settled things with Carmen. The hard part would lay in being upfront with him, not letting him make any excuses, and not letting yourself soften all because he was Carmen Berzatto. A battle between your pride and whatever you felt for him.

Carmen had called you two more times, but soon, the calls stopped coming. Carmen may have been an asshole at times, but he wasn't an idiot. In fact, he was extremely smart. And definitely smart enough to know that calling you repeatedly would get him nowhere, not when he'd been as awful as he had.

You'd spent the day driving around running errands that left you tired with boredom. The sun was setting as you walked back to your own front door, the air crisp and clear from the cold while your mind felt anything but. You reached your front doorstep and unlocked the entrance to your apartment, only to step forward and feel something crunch and mash underneath the heel of your shoe. You lifted your foot and glanced downward.

A candy bar. You peered down further. A Mars Bar.

Something inside of you paused. Maybe your heartbeat, maybe your thoughts. You weren't sure but you could feel it. The now half-smushed candy bar lay on the floor like a bittersweet memory.

You blinked. There was a note. It looked like it had been torn from the corner of something messily. More importantly, there was writing on it, in pencil, words pressed hard into paper.

I'm an asshole. You don't deserve that.

No name, but you knew who it was from. Not a "sorry" in sight, but you knew he was trying. You could almost feel the intent behind the words etched into the paper as you held it. You wanted to be furious still. And you definitely were mad. But maybe not as much. Because you knew Carmen.

You knew he had the temper of someone who'd just lost a brother, of someone who'd grown up in a screaming Berzatto household in the heart of Chicago. You'd never taken his outbursts to heart and you didn't want to now. Besides. You knew, eventually, you'd miss him too much to ignore him.

So much for not giving in to Carmen Berzatto.

You didn't really know what plan you had when you walked back towards your car, sat down, placed the chocolate bar and note in your bag, and drove. You didn't think you had one. You just were aware that your days away from The Beef had been extremely boring and that you wanted to see Carmen. To hear what he had to say to you. Even if it didn't end the way you wanted.

The familiar path to The Beef stretched before you now as an uncertain one. When you got there, you tossed your bag over your shoulder and got out of your car to the sight of the lights off in the front of the restaurant. But, if you knew anything about Carmen, you knew he'd stay late. Your assumption was proven right when you entered through the unlocked door—a slightly concerning fact—and saw the harsh white light of the kitchen flooding through to the rest of the place.

You hesitated to enter, not sure if you really knew what you were doing, but ignored the thoughts plaguing you and walked carefully into the kitchen, waiting at the door when you saw him.

He faced mostly away from the door, from you, hunched over the counter doing something that had his full focus, enough of it that he didn't notice you at first. You saw he had a toothbrush in hand and that he was determinedly scrubbing at the silver countertop surface that already sparkled spotlessly. Clearly, he didn't notice or care.

It felt like you were holding your breath as you watched him, saw how focused he was, how the muscles in his back flexed and churned with each precise movement he made as he scrubbed at a nonexistent stain. Like he held a desire to erase more than just grime.

He did that for what felt like another minute without pause, and you watched the whole time wordlessly, not wanting to break the focus he had and not knowing what to say regardless. Part of you just wanted to watch him, to see how long he could keep at it without noticing you. It wasn't for too long.

He lifted his posture upright and ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply with little exhale as if something weighty was plaguing him. Then, he finally sensed your presence at the doorway, eyes flicking towards you as his moments came to a halt. You watched him part his lips as he thought about what to say.

He shakenly said your name, a fragile plea. The word was soft coming from his lips like he knew it well, but nestled in your brain with surprise as he called you by your real name, not just a nickname. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything at all.

As he looked at you standing in the doorway, he felt exposed, like you could see through any walls he'd tried to build around himself. Words faltered from his brain. His lips parted again as if he was going to say something more, but they shut just as quickly and he ran a hand over his chin. He gestured that hand out to you.

"You uhm- did you get my note?"

You stared back at him for a beat before nodding and reaching into your bag. You held the note out in front of you, the side of your mouth quirking upwards. "Was this Carmen language for 'I'm sorry' ?"

You were half kidding and half serious, a test hidden in your words. The fact weighed on Carmen's brain, his demeanor more nervous than usual, more anxious.

"Yeah, uhm," he scrunched his eyes closed for a half second before walking towards you, taking the note from your hand and reading it to himself again, feeling the warm haze of shame creeping up on him. "Let me translate."

He read it once more. "Well, the 'I'm an asshole,' is pretty verbatim. I'm an asshole, and an idiot, and a bunch of other bad things." He glanced up at you from the paper and was relieved to see that you seemed at least a little amused. He continued. "And the 'You don't deserve that', you see, that's the good part, it translates directly to 'I'm sorry for yelling at you ' and 'it doesn't matter how stressed I was, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. That was wrong of me. And ... you're great.' "

Your eyebrows raised. "That's quite the translation."

Carmen laughed to himself breathily, but it held little amusement. "Yeah, I've been told communicating with me is like trying to tame a wild animal."

You smiled. "Who told you that?"

"Sugar."

Your laugh was warm and sounded like home. It was a feeling that left as fast as it came because soon the air between the two of you seemed to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The heavy silence lay bare and neither of you decided to fill it right away.

"Carmen."

The way you said his name sent shivers down his spine, a sensation that never ceased to affect him. He nodded at you, eyes studying your face showing that you had his sole attention.

"I know you don't like the idea of me being here. You don't have to try and hide it." His eyes widened as you spoke."But, could you at least tell me why?"

He stared back at you, brows furrowed like he was confused. It was like you could see the gears turning in his brain as he fought to find the right wording, revealed by the stiffening mass of his shoulders that never seemed to relax.

"I don't not like you being here, Mars Bar." He spoke slowly. "I think it's great that you're back in Chicago. I ... We've missed you."

A subtle warmth lay in his gaze, but you couldn't help but feel it was dimmed by whatever emotion he'd been suppressing, the battle evident in flickers in the blue of his eyes.

"I want to believe that, but with the way you've been avoiding me, how can I?"

"Avoiding you- that's," he shook his head, almost seeming incredulous, and you watched as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. "I haven't been trying to avoid you."

You didn't know how he could sound surprised, how you could've interpreted the way he's acted all week as anything else. "Well that's definitely what it's felt like when I tried talking to you all week, and you're just ... I don't know, dismissive."

He rubbed a hand at the nape of his neck, focus pitched somewhere that wasn't at you, jaw tightening slightly. "I just ... it's busy around here trying to bring in enough money, and there have been a lot of different things that have my focus right now," he started, as if he hadn't, time and time again, had to remind himself to stop thinking about you.

"Carmen, I know you're busy but that-," you tried to keep your emotions from showing through your voice, but you were aware of the tinge of frustration that was slipping through. "I know that's only part of it. I just need you to be more transparent with me. I can't read your mind."

He nodded, silently thanking God that you couldn't. He swallowed again and you noticed a tremor in the way he held the note he'd written, a sign of unease that he quickly hid in the pocket of his jeans.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know." His blue eyes stared into yours, though you could sense the reluctance in his voice. "But I'm not gonna lie and say that I think it's a good idea for you to stay here."

You felt yourself frown, brows tugging downwards in frustration and confusion. "Why?"

His gaze faltered for just a moment, seeming torn, but he was quick to regain his momentum. "This place is ... it's not meant for someone like you."

You squinted at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Someone like me?"

"Yeah, I just mean," he hesitated, hearing the way you repeated his words, like they were meant to insult. "You were supposed to leave here and finish your studies abroad and achieve great things. Things bigger and better than this shit hole. You were gonna-"

"Carmen, stop." You almost scoffed to yourself. "My plans were always to stay close to home. A few months abroad weren't gonna change that." The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of the words you both shared, the thoughts never said allowed before. You noticed your breathing was becoming labored as you failed to understand the way Carmen's mind worked, the way he tried to communicate so much by doing so little.

"This whole time you were worried about me supposedly being meant to achieve great things, but what about you?" You let out a stunned laugh. "You're the one who studied with the best of the best, traveled all over, became a world-class chef and everything else, and now you're overworking yourself at this place and refusing help."

"Yeah, well, that part of my life stopped when Mikey gave this place to me as a final fuck you, so."

Your heart twinged not only at the name, but at the way Carmen's eyes flashed with hurt while his words could've cut stone.

"Mikey gave this place to you because he trusted you," you reasoned. You tried to make him come down from wherever he was, to detach himself from the hurt and open up. The hard plane of his shoulders lifted once in a shrug, with a small shake of his head as he stared at the ground.

"Yeah well, he just ended up fucking screwing me over."

Carmen's frustration seeped into his voice, the way he emphasized each word like he wanted to release whatever was simmering under the surface. You wanted to reach out, tell him that he could, but you held yourself back and stood up taller.

"That doesn't mean you should push people away from this place. Push me away. I could help out here. I saw how hectic it was the last time I was here and-"

"That day was a fluke," Carmen cut you off. "It's not usually like that..." his jaw worked. "I'm not usually like that." His words were laced with exasperation and a little bit of shame. You could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"Carmen, I understand. But-"

"I already blew up at you." His voice cut into the air harshly. He looked away, his chest rising as he tried to control rising frustration. "I didn't mean to do that, I don't... I'm not gonna let that happen again." His words were starting to come out in a rush, escaping his control, something you knew never sat well with him.

"Well, that's my choice to make, Carmen, not one that you can make for me."

"Mars, The Beef isn't- you don't want to settle for this place, just trust me."

"How can I trust you when you've done nothing but push me away since I got here?" You heard the tremble that was growing in your own voice, a mix of hurt and anger. "You've told me a million times what I want and don't want. Have you ever stopped to ask me what I wanted? Seen my point of view?"

Carmen's breathing was picking up too, the crystals that were his eyes looking at you with a mixture of defiance and desperation. He ran a hand over his face.

"I've tried to see your point of view."

"Have you?" you snapped back.

"I gave you the job even though I knew it was a bad idea, I went against what I knew just because it was you and I let Richie convince me it was a good idea, and I am fucking done listening to Richie's ideas-" his breathing was becoming uneven as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

"Hey, Richie's done a lot more to help me since I've gotten back than you have, and a lot more listening!" Now you were yelling, and he was yelling and you didn't like the direction this was going.

"Yeah, well did Richie tell you this place was hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt when Mikey gave it to me? Did he tell you we probably couldn't even afford to pay you a decent fucking salary?"

You opened your mouth, expecting to be equipped with a response as fast as the ones that came before, but that didn't happen and you didn't say anything. You let your eyes scan Carmen, searching for a hint that he wasn't serious, but he looked wholeheartedly sincere and angered. In fact, he looked like he was fighting to even breathe steadily.

You looked at him concernedly, taking a step closer, but he just continued, laughing to himself without joy. "He didn't fucking tell you. Of course not."

His breaths were harsh, coming from his nose and lifting his chest repeatedly. His arms slapped down at his sides, hands trembling. "See, that's why I fucking told him I didn't want you anywhere near this crap hole, I fucking told him-"

His yelling stopped. He recoiled, backing up into the counter recklessly, a pot falling behind him with a clang that had you flinching. His vision was pointed downwards towards the ground, but he was frowning so hard you were sure he couldn't see anything at all, hand to his chest, gripping.

"Carmen?" You asked, alarm suddenly overtaking you and washing away whatever anger had been bubbling inside of you. "Wh- are you okay?"

It took him a second to even process what you'd said, another to respond. "I'm fine, I-" you put a hand on his shoulder to brace him, feeling how tense it was, feeling it trying to move with the effort of his shallow breaths. Panic, shame, embarrassment, everything, seemed to claw at his chest, constricting his breathing even more. "I just- fuck, I can't- I can't-"

"You can't breathe," you said, understanding what was going on now with another flash of alarm that you hid, trying to stay calm. He nodded shakily.

"Carmen," you said steadily. To him, the sound of your voice was distant, overshadowed by the sound of his heart pounding loudly in his ears, muffled the way voices sounded when from underwater. Carmen knew he wasn't underwater. You called his name again, and he did his best to hear it. "You're having a panic attack."

He managed to shake his head again. "I'm fine. I just- shit." His legs practically gave out from underneath him and he braced one hand on the table behind him, one on your shoulder.

The sight of Carmen collapsing to the ground had you wanting to release a sob, but instead, you threw Carmen's arm around you and somehow managed to take two steps towards a bucket that was on the floor against a near wall and got him to sit down on it unsteadily.

You took both of his hands in yours, noticing how his shoulders shook, how the bottom of his neck tinted red from the straining effort to breathe.

"Carmen," you called, kneeling down to his level and giving his hands a squeeze. His vision was blurred, staring downwards, but the hazy sight of his hands wrapped up in yours gave his mind a moment's peace before he was struggling to focus again.

You took a deep breath in, feeling selfish that you even could. "Carm, do your best to look at me." You purposefully slowed your words, spoke softly and clearly, and Carmen heard. You took one hand and rested it by his cheek, hair pooling into your fingers. You brushed it back, and ran your thumb across the rise of his cheekbone, lifting his face to look upwards at you. Even when his mind could hardly form coherent thoughts, your touch still affected him like no one else's.

Once his eyes were on you, you took the hand that was still holding his and placed both on your own chest, covering the area of warm skin close enough to feel your heartbeat. A tremor rolled through him, at your hand, at the way you felt, at your touch.

You. You were here, he thought, and that was a comfort to him in itself.

"Here," you said, pressing down gently but firmly on his hand. "Can you feel my heartbeat?"

Carmen tried, really tried, but his head wasn't focusing no matter what he did. You noticed his struggle right away, like he didn't even have to form words for you to know.

Hurriedly, you took off your jacket and threw it to the ground beside you. Carmen heard the sound of a zipper before his hand was taken in yours again and placed on your chest. This time, the underside of his hand felt warmer, closer to you, to skin.

"How about now?" you asked. His eyes were shut, and he really did his best to focus this time, tune into you, into the way your chest moved up and down beneath his hand, and with it, he heard the soft and steadying rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Yeah, I- I feel it."

You let yourself smile slightly, trying to take slow and deliberate breaths. "Carmen, I need you to do your best to match your breathing with mine." You looked at him and the way his features were scrunching with the effort of trying to listen to you. "Can you do that for me?"

He nodded. He'd do anything for you.

He focused on only his hand, yours, and you. Your chest underneath his palm, warm, and steadying, and alive. He felt it rise once, and fall, all in the time that he let out multiple staggering breaths.

The next time yours rose, he didn't let himself exhale until you did, taking in air from his parted lips and releasing it through his nose, feeling how the air spread thin throughout his body, a good feeling. He did that again, focused on the way his fingertips grazed bare skin, on the sound of your heart beating, in time with his now.

Behind the blank nothingness of his eyelids, scenes played out before him. Visions of his past, echos of familiar voices, spurts of color and light overtaking him.

Then, he thought of you, of the warmth of your gaze, even if he didn't deserve it. The shine of your skin, the way it looked soft even in the harsh light of the kitchen. Thoughts of you, you with him, years ago, months ago, and days, how he'd seen you for the first time in months, standing behind the counter with a smile sweet like the chocolate bars you'd always liked, the one he'd left at your doorstep, a weak attempt at salvaging one of the best relationships he'd ever known. He'd buy a million more if it meant you'd stay with him, by his side, like you'd been for years. Like you were now.

He didn't know how much time had gone by, but he opened his eyes and you were still there, still holding onto him, face looking calm but eyes swirling with emotion. With concern.

He felt fine now, his body having enough strength to support him, but he leaned into you regardless, head sunk down, resting in the place beneath your chin, on your chest. He wanted to get as close to your heartbeat as possible, not just feel it with his hand but surround himself with it.

You brought your hands up to envelop him, one resting on the white cotton covering the hard muscles of his back, rubbing it soothingly, the other coming up to rest in his hair again, gently brushing through the strands closest to the root as if to say I'm here, I have you.

You leaned your own head down to slightly rest on the back of his, mouth brushing against the crown of his head in a way so delicate he wasn't even sure he felt it. But you saw the way he melted into your touch, felt the way the muscles in his back slowly seemed to release tension at each caress. He needed to be held. But he was him, he'd never ask for it. But, you were you, and you'd always know.

You stayed like that for minutes more, though you would've held him all night if he needed it. When he sat back up, the whites of his eyes were tinted pink, and one of his cheeks was gleaming in the light, damp. You didn't comment on it. You didn't say anything at all but stood up from where you knelt and walked towards the counters, peeking underneath them until you found what you needed. You stopped at the sink and returned to your spot in front of Carmen with a plastic deli container filled with water in hand. You offered it to him wordlessly.

"Thank you," he said, taking it from you gingerly, but his voice was hoarse and he felt the red heat of embarrassment as he took large sips of the water, draining it halfway at once. A water droplet escaped from the side of the cup, dripping down his chin, and your eyes followed the movement until you felt guilty about it and stared down at your own hands. The two of you let the silence rest as it was, peaceful and healing, until you felt ready to break it.

"I'm sorry," you said, slightly a surprise for yourself to hear the words from your mouth, but you meant them. Carmen sat back up. "For pushing you to this point. I didn't mean to-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Carmen spoke quietly, voice somehow steady. "It- ... that wasn't your fault. It's happened before, when you weren't here."

You let your eyes scan over his face concernedly because he wasn't looking straight at you and you always felt the need to look after him, even if he wouldn't let you.

"This has happened before?" Carmen gave a weak shrug, like this wasn't something he thought about on his own, something he ever let occupy his focus.

"Something like it."

You made a breathy sound of disbelief. "Shit, Carmen."

So many thoughts were demanding your attention, too many. You wanted to tell him how this wasn't supposed to be a normal occurrence, how not okay it was to ignore his mental well-being. Shake him silly for never caring about the right things, for never caring about himself enough. To give him yet another lecture on letting you help him, on letting anyone help him.

"It wasn't as bad this time." His voice paused all your thoughts. "I think it was because you were here."

You didn't know how to respond, but he finally looked into your eyes and saw how much they spoke for you, how they widened, and then blinked once or twice, shying away. Almost like you were guilty, like you were sad. Something inside of him reminded him that he was probably part of the reason for that, and that ate away at him more deeply than any of his, like you said, panic attacks, ever had.

"I'm sorry, Mars."

Your eyes flicked up to his immediately, intention behind them. "You never need to apologize for having a panic attack, Carmen."

"No, for- for not just that." He paused. "For being an ass. For yelling at you. For not listening to you."

You looked at him wordlessly. You didn't want to say it was okay, because you'd be lying if you said that, if you didn't acknowledge how his words still rang sharply in your head. But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that Carmen certainly made things feel okay when he was calm like this, understanding. Peaceful.

"And I'm sorry for all the shit I gave you about not listening to me."

You let out a quick breath, almost a laugh. "To be fair, I ... didn't."

His heart seemed to swell at even just the hint of laughter that coated your voice.

"Yeah. You don't listen to me." He let the side of his mouth quirk up to match yours. "That's the thing I love about you." Internally he thought, just one of many.

You stared up at him. At the way his eyes seemed to look over your face in adoration. It did something to your heart, pulled on the strings of it, and left it panging in your chest. He noticed right away.

"You alright?" His concern and furrowed brows almost made you want to laugh.

"Yes I'm-," you exhaled. "I'm fine. The real question is, are you alright?" He watched as your eyes flitted all around his face. "To be honest, you don't seem it."

He self-deprecatingly chuckled. "Wow, thanks, Mars."

You shook his arm a little bit, expression disbelieving. "I'm serious."

You thought about how tense he'd been underneath your touch, how tense he'd seemed for the many days that you'd been back home. How that couldn't be healthy for anyone.

"You need to start taking better care of yourself, Carmen." You made sure he was hearing your every word. "Your mental health is important. More important than any job. You have to stop worrying so much about The Beef and start worrying more about you."

He ran a tired hand over his eyes, immediately feeling the urge to look away. "If I didn't put as much as I did into this place, I don't even think it'd still be up and running."

You let the words hang between the both of you for a moment, knowing how important this was to him. It was important to you too.

"I know how much you've done for this place, Carm." You took his hand in yours again. "You care about it a lot, always have. I have too. But you know the toll it's taking on you. That's not good for anyone, and it'll only last so long. And ... that's why I think you should take any help you can get, for now."

As soon as the topic left your lips again, you felt his hand stiffen in your hand, mouth opening to argue, but you held up a hand.

"And before you say anything, I don't care about the full salary, I don't I care about traveling, or 'wasting my potential' or any of that. I care about helping this place, making sure it lasts, for Mikey." You breathed. "And for you. I care about you."

He could feel his own heart start to race in his chest, flustered like he hadn't known you for years, like you weren't one of his oldest friends.

"I care about you too," he said, and the words felt shamefully foreign on his tongue, thinking about how little he'd ever actually said the words. "That's part of why it's hard for me to think about you working here. You mean a shit ton to me. More than anyone else in this damn place."

"You don't mean that." You couldn't stop the way your brows pushed together, looking down at your hand that was holding Carmen's rough and callused ones. "What about Richie, or Fak, or Sydney-"

"They mean a shit ton to me too, but it's ... not the same. You're you."

He looked into your eyes, trying to see if you'd recognized his hints, but he picked up emotions other than the realization. On a frown, on reluctance, on a guarded, shy look.

"I'll always be me, Carmen." You bit at the inside of your cheek, putting off the topic like you weren't important. That was a foreign idea to him. "That doesn't matter. What matters is you not accepting help."

You saw the way his demeanor shifted at your words, a sense of uncomfortableness settling in his bones, revealing itself in the way he sat up straighter. Your grip on his hands was still firm, unwavering, like all you wanted was to make him understand.

"Carmen," you called, but he was already staring at you. "Promise me that you'll let other people take care of you, help you get by. Let me help you."

He was grateful for the way he was positioned, elbows leaning on knees, hands held by yours, because it was stabilizing him, grounding him when he felt like running. He knew that if he wanted to keep you around, keep you by him, he couldn't do that. That didn't change the fact that this was new to him.

"I, um,"

"It doesn't have to all at once." You gave him a smile, a real one, because you knew he was trying. Breaking out of old habits, for you. "One step at a time."

You were back home. Him pushing you away in his head, running, but only in his mind, didn't change that. He didn't want it to. Despite the pull of his mind telling him to hold you at a distance, the push of his heart wanted you. It was drawn to the cradle of your hands, the warmth of your smile.

"I promise."

Your smile grew to a grin that tugged at the sides of your glowing eyes, eyes that sparkled with affection like they held a hidden invitation, a plea for him to let you in. He finally did, and he knew so fully that he would've made that promise to you time and time again if it meant he could have you and see that smile as much as he wanted.

Your fingers brushed the back of his hands as you stood up from where you were kneeling, letting out an exhale that he noticed sounded almost weightless, a change from the burdened way it sounded to him before. The thought put him at ease.

He stood up too, watching you as you retrieved your jacket and put it on, him feeling the urge to help you with even just that. When you focused back on him, the etches of a smile still lingering on your face, it was magnetic. He couldn't look away. You couldn't either.

You stared at the way a hundred different colors danced in the blue of his eyes, a miraculous feat that you'd loved from the start. As you looked at each other, eyes saying more than your mouths had the courage to, your smile grew slowly, heartbeat picking up in your chest.

"Let me walk you to your car," you coaxed, gesturing towards the door. He laughed at the random idea, breaths escaping through his nose.

"What? Why?"

You shrugged, smile and features and everything, warm. "Call it the first step to you fulfilling your promise to me."

Knowing how he'd iced you out, he embraced that warmth. Made it his new home. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay."

You gestured for him to follow you, he did, and that was all he had to do. You turned off the lights behind the both of you, locked the door, and didn't ask him to do a thing, just to see the amused look on his face when you smiled at him, his eyes staring back at yours like you were a wonder, something rare to be loved and kept safe.

As you walked back to his car, that was all he could think about. How he'd come across this ray of light in his life that was you, and how you'd stayed by his side, a miraculous idea but he didn't even want to dwell on that too much because it took him away from this moment being shared between the two of you, alone, the cold nipping at your skin but it not mattering because too much had happened that night to care.

The moment seemed to come to an end all too quickly. Carmen had stopped once you'd both reached his car, and you did too. He became aware of the feeling of you next to him, savoring it because he knew it'd end the moment he got into his car.

"Carmy," you said, extending the moment just a little longer. He hummed in response, watching as you stuffed your hands in your coat pockets.

"Can you promise me one more thing?"

He nodded, not missing a beat. " Yeah, anything." Something inside of you fluttered. You cast it aside to hold his gaze.

"Promise me you'll always try and tell me what's going on in your head. No more hiding."

His eyes bore into yours like he was contemplating something, a flicker of conflict in them, a vulnerability that you didn't know what to think of. Then, it was gone and you weren't even sure you'd seen it.

"Yeah, I- um," his jaw tightened for a second. "I promise, Mars."

You patted him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that felt phony even to you. "Great ... that's great."

He flashed a closed-mouthed smile and you both stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, not saying a word.

"Goodnight," you told him, because it was what you would've said to anyone else at that moment, ignoring the whispers in your mind telling you something was missing, that Carmen wasn't just anyone else.

Something tugged at him too, nagging him, insisting that he had more to tell you, more to say before the night was really over, before he had to go to work the next day and somehow navigate his day with the new promises he'd made you. But all he said was "Goodnight, Mars," before getting in his car with just a wave goodbye that felt bare and wrong.

You left him one more of your smiles through the passenger window of his car before walking off to wherever you'd parked your own. He was sure he'd felt butterflies. Butterflies.

Only you could do this to him. He'd felt numb, overwhelmed and unsatisfied all the same time for however long, and then you come back to Chicago and suddenly he felt everything, all the time. It was getting to him, clearly, because he found himself opening his car door and stepping out of it, losing control of his body, loosening his grip of rationality all because of you. Because he wanted to see you, needed to. He needed you.

You were a good distance away from his car by the time he'd gotten out of his, but you turned around at the sound of the car door practically slamming. You frowned, noticing Carmen walking towards you.

"Carmen?" you called into the night, confused. He caught up with you, something behind his gaze that had his eyes shimmering. You swore you could feel the delicate movement of his eyes across your face as soon as he was near enough to truly take it in.

He took hold of your hand, fingers interlocking with yours delicately, an electrifying feeling buzzing through you. You let out a small gasp at the contact, vision shooting down at the point at which you both touched, just a hand hold but the contact took your full focus.

"Hey," he said, something like a smile creeping onto his features and you'd never seen him like this, so exhilarated and full of delicate determination. You looked back up into his eyes, and he took a step closer, finally letting himself be pulled by that magnetic force calling him to you that he couldn't resist. He wouldn't, anyway.

"Wh-," you started, meaning to question him but the thought was brushed aside when he leaned inwards, his forehead falling against yours. His curls brushed against the top of your head, and you secretly loved the feeling, becoming breathless.

"You can tell me to stop, Mars." He murmured it so close to you, breath fanning onto your cheek in a distracting but addictive way, and suddenly you were forgetting how to talk. It didn't matter, because you didn't want him to stop. You looked back up at him, and he saw that in your eyes, so he didn't.

His lips brushed against yours, a taste of what he'd been wanting for longer than he could even remember. The feeling it sent throughout him was immobilizing, and he stayed like that, eyes shut, reveling in it.

It was you who closed the distance, pressing your lips to his and letting the dizzying wave from it spread all over you, to the tips of your fingers that immediately reached up to hold his firm shoulders, and to your brain that buzzed in joy and excitement and a bit of something else.

He froze up for a second when he felt your lips crashing into his. Your lips on his felt like the answers to all his problems, and he needed them in a burning, unignorable way. His brows furrowed and his hands reached up to cradle your neck delicately, holding you like you were more valuable than anything he could've bought, anything he could've wished for, could've imagined he could possibly have.

His lips tugged on yours and yours tugged back, a rhythm that felt easy to follow, like the deep thrum of a heartbeat. And when you both finally pulled apart for air, it was like you could still feel that rhythm, because your heartbeats were beating so loudly and in time with each other's that it felt like the moment was never meant to come to an end.

Your foreheads were still connected, and you knew neither of you had it in you to pull away. You felt somehow even more breathless.

"What was that for?" Your voice was soft, hoarse. You swore you saw Carmen's lip quirk upwards.

"I promised to not hide what was going on in my head." Your hands came up to delicately wrap around his biceps, impossibly solid underneath your fingertips. He didn't suppress the shudder that traveled through him. "Call that the first step."

You smiled, this time against his lips, and somehow that beat every single smile you'd ever given him before. It felt like a promise of your own, to share your warmth with him from now on. He liked the idea, a lot. He'd let you do it whenever you wanted, he liked it that much.

He'd let you take care of him whenever you wanted, too. Again and again, until you got sick of him. But he was Carmen Berzatto. You knew you never would.

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teamatsumu · 6 months

Text

kinktober 2023 -> day 28

double penetration - kita shinsuke x reader x miya osamu

word count: 1186

warnings: smut, swearing, kita and reader are in an established relationship, fluff towards the end

kinktober masterlist

You liked to believe you knew your boyfriend, Kita Shinsuke, pretty well.

You had met as mere kids in diapers. You had grown up with him. You knew of his careful routine, his vigilant schedule. You knew how caring he was, how wonderfully attentive. His love for his profession, hours and hours put into his precious fields, to earn a living for himself and you, his loving, doting housewife. All of these qualities, and more, were what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Kita would ever suggest something like this.

You stared into his burning gold eyes with tears in your own, mouth dropped open, struggling to breathe. He reached for your face, careful thumb brushing over your wet cheek. You inhaled deeply as your body was jostled forward again, your stare with Kita breaking as your eyes squeezed shut and a low groan sounded from behind you.

“Go slow, Osamu.” You heard Kita say. “She’s hurtin’.”

A huff from the man in question. “I thought ya said ya prepped her for this.”

“Apparently not enough.” Came the reply.

It took another few minutes before Osamu was fully buried inside you, both men finally filling you up to the hilt. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, shaky and broken.

“Relax, sweetheart.” You heard your husband’s voice, gentle and doting in your ear. You felt his hand run through your hair where your head rested against his shoulder, trying with everything in you to undo how tense your muscles were. You weren’t used to this. You and Kita enjoyed a very vanilla sex life. It wasn’t even until one month ago that Kita had started playing with your ass, experimenting by prodding it, then entering, fingering, fucking.

You had loved it.

“Shinsuke,” you lifted yourself up, supporting your weight with your hands on Kita’s chest. You felt your back brush against Osamu’s front, felt his breath hit the back of your neck as your movement caused both men to shift inside you.

“You okay, baby?” Kita intertwined the fingers of his right hand with your left, the other running slowly down your side for comfort.

You nodded. “Feels- feels good.”

Kita’s lips turned up slightly in a smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

Kita shifted his hips then, just enough to change the angle of his cock in your pussy, causing you to whine. Behind you, Osamu groaned.

“Don’t do that, Kita-san.” His voice was so strained it caused worry to stir in your chest. “She’s clenchin’ round me so tight. I’ll cum too quick.”

Your cheeks burned at how crude he sounded, and you would feel embarrassed if you weren’t so preoccupied with how stuffed you were. Growing up with Kita meant growing up with Osamu too. He was your friend. And now here he was, buried balls deep in your asshole.

“Move, Osamu.” Kita finally said, before holding your hips tight with both hands, planting his feet steadily on the bed, and thrusting up into you.

You cried out and Osamu groaned, immediately following suit. You felt the breath get knocked out of you, eyes rolling up as both men began moving in earnest.

The sounds filling the air were nothing short of filthy, wet squelching that caused your body to heat up in embarrassment, yet somehow made you even more horny. God, you had never felt like this before. Never for one second were you left empty. If Kita pulled out, Osamu thrusted back in, and when Osamu left you, Kita filled you up. You couldn’t breathe with how shot every nerve in your body was, eyes crossing when Kita quickly found your sweet spot, making you yelp and arch back, once again making soft contact with the sturdy torso behind you.

Osamu’s arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place against his chest. His teeth grazed the side of your neck before leaving a tiny bite on the skin.

“Watch it,” Kita choked out. “No marks.”

Osamu’s lips replaced his teeth then, moving up to nibble at your earlobe. Throughout all of it, neither men even slowed their pace. You felt your body jerk and jolt, manhandled by these two men as they used you for their pleasure. You moaned loudly at the thought.

“F-fuck.” Osamu groaned into your ear. “F-feels so good, Y/N-san. Yer tight as anythin’.”

The undulating of three bodies felt heavenly. Touches felt on every part of you at any given time. Your holes ached, as if protesting the intrusion, the carving of big cocks inside your tight insides. Kita’s hands ran over your thighs, soothing any ache that formed with your position, while Osamu’s big hand ran over your front, groping and squeezing your breast with eager motions. Kita’s noises were low and consistent, small groans leaving his lips every few seconds. Osamu was louder, whining and cursing in your ear as if he was losing his virginity all over again.

You were so turned on you couldn't think straight.

You felt a familiar thumb find your clit, clenching hard when Kita started working it in tight, hard circles. You wailed at the feeling, almost trying to push away from it. It was too much. It was all so overwhelming-

“I’m gonna cum,” you weeped, eyes catching your husband’s while your nails dug into the arm Osamu had wrapped around you. “Shinsuke, I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby.” He replied, tugging you down onto his body again and holding your hips still as both him and Osamu picked up the pace. You screamed and cried as your orgasm hit you full force, briefly whiting out your vision and making your body twitch and jerk all over. You heard Osamu moan, low and loud, before he buried himself in you to the hilt and warmth spread inside you. Kita was next, thrusting a few more times before he came as well, groaning and huffing in your ear.

You fell limp onto Kita, wincing when Osamu slowly pulled out, his cum dripping down to where you and Kita were still joined. Kita made no move to do the same. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, turning you both to your sides.

You heard Osamu mumble something about a shower before pattering out of the room, leaving you in the warmth of your husband’s arms. You let your eyes fall shut.

“You okay?”

You hummed and nodded, hugging him tighter. You felt him lay a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I take it that you’ll wanna do that again?”

You giggled and looked up at him, grinning sheepishly. “Was it that obvious?”

He ran a hand through your hair, pushing it off your forehead. “You shoulda’ seen yerself, baby. Pretty little thing, moanin’ and cryin’ on our cocks. Ya looked like ya were gonna pass out.”

You groaned and buried your head into his chest again, feeling it vibrate with his laugh. A smile tugged at your lips when you heard the shower turn on in the next room.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats s @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

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redhood414 · 24 days

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okay so I have a idea for a Damian Wayne x reader if you are up for it (don’t worry it’s tooth rotting fluff)

say Damian is introducing yn to all of his pets and accidentally mentions Goliath his giant dragon bat pet and after hearing he has one more pet they have never met they beg him to introduce them to Goliath and he hesitantly does worrying they will freak out but instead fall’s absolutely in love with goliath and even cuddles him treating him like a puppy making Damian fall more in love with yn

maybe like a one shot or something where Damian and yn are trying to introduce their pets to each like Titus and yns pet meeting for the first time since their relationship is becoming more serious but the thing is yns dog is like my pet poodle, dottie, that is more calm, quiet, sweet, and gives everyone a warm and welcoming energy when meeting her, and thinks Titus is scary but then Titus does something sweet like giving yns dog a bone, a Ty of his he likes, or even saving them surprising Damian from the sweet gesture since Titus isn’t usually friendly to other dogs and yn loves Titus even more now and it ends with both dogs becoming friends and yn and Damian more in love then ever

I love this idea so much! Thanks for sharing your idea with me!

Warnings: non. Just fluff and Damian being a cutie.

Pets and love.

You and Damian have been dating for a while now. He's changed over the years as well, became a big softie towards you and very protective. Damian was the kind of lover who was only soft for you, like come on, you're not going to expect him to be soft for other people? People. Not pets. For pets he's always soft, but somehow you haven't had the chance to meet his pets.

Damian was laying with you in his bed while your head was on his chest, listening peacefully to his heartbeat while one off his hands were going through your hair and the other was on your waist. Suddenly you noticed a picture, two dogs were on it. "Hey babe?" You asked, turning your head to look up at him. Damian looked down on you and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, beloved? What is it?" He asked, not stopping with stroking your hair. "You never told me you had pets." You said, going to sit up and pointing at the picture on his desk with the dogs. "Oh, haven't I? My apologies, beloved." He sits up as well, hugging you from behind. "On the picture, those are Ace and Titus." You smiled excitedly. "Can I meet them?? Pretty, please?" You looked at him with your oh so beautiful eyes he can't say no to. He can say no to a lot off things and he's normally easy to say no to someone or something but to those eyes? No way.

So here you two were, now downstairs. "Alfred, where are Titus and Ace?" Damian asked Alfred. Alfred looked in surprise at you. "Ah, miss y/n. I didn't know you were over to visit." He smiled politely and gave a nod. You smiled back. "Damian invited me since he knows I'm in holiday for a while. To spend some quality time with him." In the corner of your eyes you could see Damian getting a pit pinky on his cheeks and you couldn't help but chuckle, kissing his cheeks. Damian cleared his throat and focused on Alfred. "So, as I was asking, do you know where they are?" "I believe master Dick and master Tim are outside, playing with them. Master Dick forced master Tim to take a break so he took Ace and Titus as an excuse." Alfred said, nodding to outside. You grinned when you heard his brothers' names. Dick and Tim were great guys. Before Damian could say anything you grabbed his hand and dragged him. "Come on!!"

When arrived outside, you could see two dogs chasing a ball and a stick. Dick encouraged one off the dogs. "Come on Ace, go fetch!!" Damian and you joined them. Tim looked at you and smiled. "Y/n, good to see you again. How are you?" Dick looked over as well with surprise and then hugged you and gave a teasing smirk at Damian who rolled his eyes. "I'm good!" You said with a smile. "Soo what's up?" Dick asked, looking at Damian. "Y/n wanted to meet my pets." At hearing Damian's name Ace rushed towards him, jumping up on Damian to give him a big lick on his cheek. Your heart melted at the sight. Damian may not be fond of people, but animals? He's the softest. Titus came also, greeting Damian as well. When they saw you, they started sniffing you and licking your hand, Titus jumped up first to try and lick your face. Damian frowned. "Titus, down." You shook your head. "It's fine!" You laughed, petting them both. "By the way, Alfred knocked something off you over today, you should really watch him." Tim said to Damian. You raised an eyebrow in confusion, the butler, knocking something over?? Dick saw your confused expression and laughed. "He means Alfred the cat." "You have a cat??" Your eyes sparkled as you looked at Damian. "Yes, I do. He's probably with the Bat-cow." Your eyes sparkled. And a cow too?! Does he have every animal alive??

In the stable when you saw the cat and the cow you couldn't keep your hands off them both. The cat purred against your leg and the cow nudged it's head against your hand to per her. "Were those all your pets, baby?" You ask Damian ask you continue patting the two animals. Damian shook his head and started too say something. "No, I have Goli-...no that's all I mean.." He cleared his throat. You can't know he has a pet dragon. It'll scare you away and of all the things in his life, you're the one thing he can't loose. "Goli...?" You encourage. Having heard a half name. But not fully yet. Damian was hesitating to tell you. "So, beloved, if I tell you this, you can't tell anyone or be scared okay?" You nod, frowning as you listen to him. "His name is Goliath. He's my dragon." Your eyes widen and you stare in surprise at him. "Your...what now?" You weren't screaming so that was good. "Yes...uh..it's a long story on how I met him. I can show you a picture though. Of him" you nod your head with excitement and lean over his shoulder to look with him at his phone. "Aw he's so cute!!" Damian tried to surpress a grin when you said that, but failed. He gave you a kiss on your cheek. Did he tell you already he loved you? Oh yes probably, why not say it anyways?

"I love you more then anything, beloved."

#dc universe #damian wayne #batfam #alfred the cat #ace and titus #dragon goliath #damian wayne x reader #tim drake #dick grayson

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drabblesandimagines · 5 months

Text

Dove (part two)

Part one here. Leon Kennedy x fem reader Slow, slow burn, mostly fluff tbh

Leon’s lying on the couch, an arm bent behind his head and staring at the living room ceiling when his watch beeps, signaling the 0500-perimeter check. There are security cameras outside that will send a notification to his phone, but technology isn’t infallible so he prefers a sweep with his own eyes every four hours or so when he’s on protection detail. He heaves himself upright, wincing a little when his back protests. Hell, maybe he’s getting a little old to be sleeping on sofas. He picks up his gun off the coffee table and checks the cartridge, more out of habit than anything else – hasn’t shot a bullet this mission.

He makes his way over to the garage door, casting his eyes over your bedroom door as he does so. You won’t be awake for a few more hours, not after those sleeping pills, so he’s not trying to be particularly quiet when he unlocks the door, steps through and locks it once more behind him. He walks around the side of the SUV towards the garage shutter itself next, unlocks the padlock and lifts it up to step out into the cool night air.

The safe house is located a few miles out from a village on old farm land, tucked away down a rural lane. No nosey neighbors to question why there are no people living there most of the year. He went round the perimeter anti-clockwise upon arrival, so he’ll go clockwise this time, flashlight in one hand and gun aimed in the other. He’d been at home for a change when Hunnigan had called him – first person she thought of when she’d seen Lickers on the partial CCTV footage that had been salvaged. For a building housing the DSO’s surveillance division, Leon hadn’t been particularly impressed by quality of the CCTV images. Grainy, staggered frames of the creatures tearing up the office and people apart, leaving only destruction in their wake. And you, breathing but dazed, buried under lockers at the bottom of the stairwell and, somehow, the only survivor.

He completes his round at 0525, nothing significant to note and heads back inside, unlocking and locking doors behind him.

At 0600, his phone vibrates in his pocket – a steady rhythm denoting it’s a phone call, not a message or notification and, really, there’s only one person who will be calling him so he doesn’t even bother to check the caller ID.

“Morning, Hunnigan. What did the night bring?”

“Nothing substantial. We’re still trying to establish the full timeline. Seems like the footage we salvaged yesterday might be all we are going to get CCTV-wise.”

“Did you send a team out to Dove’s?”

“Won’t have the manpower till this afternoon. Why – do you have suspicions?”

“No, not at all.” He replies. “I just… I think it’ll put her at ease to know we’re not treating her as a suspect.”

“Did you question her?” Hunnigan sounds skeptical and he hears her tap away on her keyboard. “I haven’t received your report if so.”

“No, not yet. It was late when we arrived – she was tired, in pain, terrified. I didn’t think questioning her then would go down particularly well or be helpful. Gave her painkillers and sleeping pills. I’ll broach it after breakfast, maybe.”

“Broach it?”

“See how she’s feeling, I mean. Last night after we got in the car, she was all one-word answers, a couple of sentences here and there.” Leon sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t wanna scare her off.”

“If she’s got nothing to hide, there’s nothing for her to be scared of. Do your job and don’t get sweet on her.”

“Why can’t a guy do both?” He laughs.

“Leon – I expect that report today.”

The smile drops and he nods, as if she could see him. “Yes, ma’am.”

It takes a few attempts to open your eyes, blearily staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling in the morning light that filters in around the curtain. Your mouth is horrendously dry – a side effect from the sleeping pills, perhaps. Your whole body aches with stiff, bruised limbs.

But you’re alive, you remind yourself, when so many others aren’t.

Leon had been right at least – the sleeping pills had knocked you out into a dreamless sleep, though you don’t feel particularly rested.

You sit up in the bed tenderly, immediately thinking of painkillers. There’s no thought of getting changed, making yourself presentable. The man helped you strip last night, hell, he might think you’re a murderer, what does it matter if you leave the bedroom in a long t-shirt that shows a perhaps indecent amount of leg?

You open the door cautiously, unsure if Leon might still be sleeping on the couch, but it’s empty. Not a pillow or blanket in sight. The bathroom door is open, so he’s not in there. Your eyes move next to the door to the garage – maybe he’s gone to the SUV, would he sleep in there?

You turn slowly on the spot, trying to work out if there’s another door you’d missed in the blur of last night, but there’s the three – bathroom, bedroom, garage…

Wait. Your stomach sinks in realization.

Where’s the front door?

Is it a safe house thing? But surely that limits exit options if you’re trapped in here.

Or maybe that’s what they want.

Maybe you’ll graduate to a safe house with a front door when they don’t suspect you of being involved. You’ll ask Leon, you think, when he comes back from wherever he is. He seems nice, or nice enough. Been nothing but a gentleman, genuinely caring about your wellbeing… But maybe that’s all an act. An uncomfortable sensation reminds you that you need to use the facilities after a night of medicated sleep, so you head into the bathroom and lock the door.

All doubts about his sincerity are thrown out of the reinforced window once you see what’s on the counter.

There are two toothbrushes – one in a mug he’s pilfered from the kitchen after you’d smashed the container last night, and one’s lying flat on the counter, toothpaste pre-squeezed upon its bristles.

Sweet.

You emerge from the bathroom, teeth cleaned and find Leon stepping through the garage door.

“Oh, morning.” He smiles, shuts the door firmly behind him. You can see he looks a little tired around the eyes.

“Morning.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up for a few more hours. How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore.” He can tell you’re lying about the ‘bit’ - trying to put on a brave face. “What time even is it? I don’t have my phone… or a watch.”

“Ah,” he looks down at his own as if he doesn’t already know from his 0900 check. “Nearly half nine. Did you sleep all right?”

You nod. “No dreams. Was the sofa okay?”

“Yeah, one of the better ones.” He turns to the door and you hear a click before he steps away, heading into the kitchen.

Locked in.

“Where were you?”

“Outside. Perimeter check – all good.”

“Oh.” You pause, feeling like you know the answer before you can even ask it. “Can I go outside?”

His face falls in apology. “Sorry. Not at the moment - protocol. Wouldn’t want to risk anything.”

“Yeah, makes sense, I guess.” You continue standing awkwardly, a combination of not knowing what to do with yourself and hesitant to move knowing it’s going to hurt. “Erm, sorry, where did you put those painkillers?”

His face remains apologetic, though you’re not sure why. “We should get you some food in your first. I really shouldn’t have given you all those pills last night on an empty stomach.”

“I couldn’t have eaten anyway.”

“Understandable.” He ducks down below the counter and opens a cupboard, standing upright and placing a box of oats on the counter. “I’m afraid breakfast choices are a little limited. Oatmeal okay?”

“You cook too?”

“I’d say describing me as a cook is a stretch. We’ve got some fruit as well, but I think oatmeal will be best for those pills.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.” You remain standing in place. “Erm, can I… do anything?”

“Nah, I’ve got it all handled.” He calls over his shoulder as he grabs some mugs out of a cupboard – doesn’t have to open a few before he can locate what he’s looking for as you would have to in a vacation rental. “Go ahead and sit down. Might’ve noticed this place is sans dining table, so coffee table will have to do.”

You walk slowly over to the couch, your muscles aching with protest. The bruises are far darker on your legs today than yesterday and, boy, do you feel it. You sit down delicately on the sofa, before tucking your knees up underneath out of habit, reaching for a throw pillow and clutching onto it pathetically.

You don’t know where your thoughts drift off to as you stare at the TV opposite despite it being off – it’s like your brain just temporarily switched off, until a single word reboots it.

“Honey?”

“Huh?” Where had that come from? Was it…? “I thought we went with Dove.”

Leon laughs – can’t help himself. “No, no, sorry. I meant, would you like honey on your oatmeal? Codename’s still Dove, as far as I know. I don’t come up with them.”

“Oh,” you feel your face grow a little hot. “Y-yeah, please.”

A few moments later he approaches the coffee table, steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a bowl of oatmeal in the other, complete with spoon. He places it down in front of you with a flourish.

“Order’s up.”

There’s an attempt at what looks like a smiley face drawn in honey atop the oatmeal.

“Thank you.” You can’t help the amused tone that enters your voice.

“Yeah, sorry,” he rubs the back of his head. “I can’t do fancy drizzles like the restaurants so that’s the best I could come up with. I’ll just go grab your pills, but dig in.”

You lean forward and spoon a small scoop up and force it into your mouth. Your appetite is still missing in action but you know you need something. A metal clang draws your attention from behind and you turn your head, seeing Leon fiddling with what looks like a metal lockbox. He opens it and pulls out the canister of the painkillers and shakes two out in his hand, before closing the box and locking it. You turn back, take another scoop of oatmeal and swallow, hoping it gets rid of the bitter taste of distrust in your mouth.

He's in front of you again, hand outstretched, but you can’t help yourself.

“Why are the painkillers locked away?”

“Protocol.” He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Really?”

“I’m afraid so.” There’s a pause. Leon knows what you’re thinking and he hates it – he knows what it’s like to be scared, not trust anyone around you and he desperately doesn’t want to be that to you. “It’s mainly the sleeping pills. I don’t think you’re going to slip some and try and knock me out, or try and overdose on painkillers, but I… I need to follow it, okay? It’s nothing personal, Dove, I promise.”

“Is it protocol not to have a front door too?”

“Ah, wondered when you might clock that. Yeah. There’s a false one outside – built into the façade so it doesn’t look weird. Only real way in and out is through the garage.”

“But if someone or…” You swallow, the creature flashing up in your mind “…or something got in here, we’d be trapped.”

“Nothing is getting in here and if it does, it’s not getting past me.” He says, sincerely, and when you meet his eyes, there’s that niggle in your chest. You want to trust him - you really, really want to - you want to feel completely at ease with the man who’s apparently ready to lay his life down for you and only you, but you still feel like you’re on the tightrope between victim and villain in this piece. “Open your hand?”

You do, watching him drop two little white pills into it.

“You can have them every four hours if you’re feeling sore. I’ll keep track of the doses, just ask.”

You knock them back with a swig of coffee.

“Is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Of course you can.” He pauses, trying to work out why you thought you had to ask. “Do you need a hand with…?”

“No, I think I’ll be okay. Erm… Do you know what I need to do about my temple?” You gesture to the medical strips on your forehead.

“Ah, yeah. So, need to try and avoid getting them wet for a few days. Don’t worry if you do though, I can re-do ‘em. First aid qualified.”

“Thanks. Erm, see you in a bit.” You head into the bedroom and to the duffel bag filled with clothes, picking out a selection that should work and run a brush through your hair. You take it back in the bathroom – Leon politely pretends to be engrossed in whatever’s now on the TV - and place them down on the counter, before locking the door.

After a less than relaxing shower – foregoing washing your hair – injured arm hanging loosely by your side, you’re not sure how long it takes to wrestle to put on underwear, sweatpants and a t-shirt, but it’s not like you have anything to do or anywhere to go. There’s no way you feel up to tackling the exercise bra that whoever has packed and asking Leon is simply beyond the question. It’s nice to be clean though. You’d tried to put the sling back on but had given up when your shoulder had started to smart after failed attempts and leave it half on/half off as you leave the bathroom.

Leon’s sat on the couch, phone in hand when you emerge. He turns, gives you a smile and nods at it.

“Need a hand with that?”

“Please. I tried, but…”

“Hey, it’s early days.” He stands up to meet you, pocketing his phone, as you walk over. “Sometimes they try and get you doing exercises from day one with dislocations too, but the medic advised you rest it for a week so I wouldn’t push yourself too hard.”

He takes adjusts the work you’d managed ever so slightly, and then puts everything in place. He steps closer to adjust it around your shoulder and you find yourself just staring into the expanse of his chest, when he sniffs.

“Mm. What is that - strawberry?”

“Huh?” You look up.

“Your bodywash.” He tightens the strap in place, checking everything is holding snug. “Someone on supplies must’ve been feeling fancy to be stocking us with that.”

“Did you not shower?” Your face burns red as soon as the question leaves your lips. “Not that you…” You like his scent, actually, woody. “I mean, just the bodywa-”

He shrugs it off. “I get you. Er, no. I… Well, I didn’t want to whilst you were sleeping, you know, in case…”

“Oh.” In case someone or something attacked. “Well, you could now – if you want. I’m awake now, so… Unless it goes against protocol?”

“No.” As long as he takes his guns and other weapons in with him, he thinks, and casts a longing look at the bathroom. “Promise you’ll yell if you need me, or you hear a weird noise or… anything, right?”

“I’ll yell.”

“Good. Okay. Might see if there’s another bodywash packed though – not sure I’m a strawberry guy.” He heads over to the garage door where the other duffel bag remains and picks it up, carrying it into the bathroom and locks the door.

He emerges 20 minutes later, same sort of t-shirt and cargo pants combo as yesterday and there’s a whiff of strawberry scent as he walks past you to sit down on the other couch.

You’ve been staring blankly at the TV screen for a little while – some sort of house renovation show, kept the volume down low. There isn’t really much else to do here and, really, you don’t want to sit and dwell on your own thoughts. Leon gave you the remote control, told you it was your choice and, sure, you’d clicked down past some of your favourite shows but you don’t want to associate any of them with this, with what happened…

So, weird house renovation it is, though you’re not taking any of it in.

Leon had excused himself a little while ago, said there was still some things in the back of the SUV he needed to grab. You don’t look round when he comes back in but you hear the lock click once more, before you hear him open a cupboard and the tap runs. He shows up in your peripheral vision a few moments later, placing two glasses of water down on the coffee table, laptop tucked under his arm and looking sheepish through his hair.

“Dove, I… I need to ask you some questions about yesterday.”

“Questions?” You tuck your legs up underneath you, wanting to huddle your knees like you do when you watch a horror movie.

“Yeah. Get your statement, mainly. It’ll help the investigation. I’m going to record the audio.”

“Do you want the TV off?”

He smiles at your question – still so sweet and considerate despite the fact he’s the one about to interrogate you, make you relive what is surely the worst even of your life, and you’re worried about his audio quality.

“No, it’s low enough – it won’t get picked up if you wanna leave it on for background noise.”

“Okay. Erm, I think I’d like that.” You pause, digging your nails into your palm. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, though. It’s all… kind of a blur.”

“That’s okay,” he opens up his laptop, taps a few keys and angles it to set up to record so he can go over and pick key points up later, if there are any. “Anything will be great. We’ll take it slow. You ready?”

You’re not, but you doubt you ever will be.

“Ready.”

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

PS: Comments literally make my day! Lemme know if you're excited for part 3 x Part three.

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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anantaru · 2 years

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𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬‘𝗥𝗘 𝗗𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗞 !

˖˚˳⊹ they‘re drunk feat. childe : ayato : kaeya : diluc : kazuha : heizou : itto : xiao : venti : cyno x fem! reader

˖˚˳⊹ genre: fluff : crack : mentions of alcohol

drunk! childe who assured you that he can take another shot. The both of you were at a banquet hosted by the fatui after all, he had to stay longer and taste all the beverages available, it’s to show that he’s truly cherishing and admiring the cryo archon —that’s what he told you after gobbling down the fifth shot—, now babbling incoherent words of weird shit you weren’t able to decipher even if you tried your hardest. You did know it was something about a dark secret of his, (that’s how he made it sound like if you were being honest) before he bursted out screaming that he was horny.

drunk! ayato who was so cocky at first, kind of ignorant if you squint, telling you that he’s not getting drunk easily, what’s a few gulps of those tasty wines after all? thoma got it from mondstadt for him to taste and relish in, what kind of lord would he be if he weren’t going to drink it since it‘s a gift he got. To your surprise he did hold up a bit longer than expected, yet in the end he was starting to get a bit weird. Was giggling about literally every single thing you said like it didn’t even matter what it was (you could just say one single random word and he‘d go HAHAHA), —and his cackles were so loud as well—, cheeks a cute rosy tint and if you were being honest, in a way he was fucking adorable in your eyes!

drunk! kaeya who was way too happy that you were accompanying him to the tavern tonight. He loves quality time together after all! Resulted in him ordering way too many drinks though, —to show you his favorites and impress you a bit hehe—, yet while you stayed with the drink you ordered, somebody had to get rid of the rest that kaeya so carelessly bought. The way he gobbled them up was beyond belief if you were being honest, it didn’t take him long to finish the drinks and that’s when it hit him like a truck in an isekai anime. Cheeks heated up, radiating warmth while he was getting utterly clingy, hugging you tightly while introducing you to literally every single person in the tavern as his s/o. <3

drunk! diluc who’s fighting with himself right now. He’s drunk as fuck but literally tells himself that he isn’t. He would start babbling weird shit to himself too, something like, —you’re not drunk diluc, get over yourself—, over and over again in hopes to trick his mind somehow yet that’s not how it worked. You felt bad for laughing but it was way too funny watching him try his hardest to play sober when in reality his mind was threatening to turn blank. Diluc was absolutely disgusted by alcohol, yet even he had to consume it sometimes when important guests would come to visit the winery for some quality beverages. He’s writing himself a mental note to switch it up with grape juice and pretend for it to be alcohol again for the next time.

drunk! kazuha who's a little sleepy head, as we all know by now. He just can't help himself, really. His head just grows so heavy, thank the archons you're by his side so he can properly rest it on your shoulder. The way he's slowly unraveling into a little whiny baby is beyond adorable, cooeing sweet things against the shell of your ear before slowly dozing of in a deep slumber, —don’t forget he’s still on your shoulder though—. You truly couldn't get enough of his precious facial expression but at some point you got to get him home safely somehow, good luck with that because he‘s not going to be much of a help!

drunk! heizou who’s tripping over every single second, getting him actually home was a much harder mission than you at first anticipated. "step, step, step." he‘s giggling while chanting that word, over and over again. If he wasn’t that cute you would’ve smacked his head by now, you were sure the word 'step' would be stuck in your head forever now mixed with the random melody heizou was adding on. Finally reaching your home, you had to stop him from actually tripping over again the moment he headed in before he fell flat on the couch, knocked out immediately too. The way he was laying there made his hair strands hanging loosely around his beautiful heated up face, he was so pretty even when drunk like this! bewitching almost when you took the blanket next to him to cover his body, so he wouldn’t catch a cold. <3

drunk! itto who made a bet to drink those three bottles of fine liquor, if he managed to not pass out he’s going to be gifted an amazingly strong onikabuto for his collection. It was no other than kamisato ayato himself who made him do it, —probably well knowing that there wasn’t a way for itto to actually stay awake after gobbling those three bottles up—, yet itto was determined, he‘s the greatest after all! not even you could’ve talked him out of ayato‘s scheming so there he was now: on the floor, two bottles empty while the other one was still tightly closed, he just couldn’t do it anymore. Itto lolled his head back a bit, mumbling about the random onikabuto he wasn’t going to get now while ayato cracked himself up next to you. While shooting the yashiro commissioner a deadly glance to shut him up, you advanced forward to itto to bring your silly boyfriend home before shinobu was about to find out what had happened, which if you were being honest would not only get him in trouble, but yourself as too!

drunk! xiao who said he couldn’t get drunk, he’s a yaksha after all, have some respect. But once actually being one bottle and a half in, he realized his mind was getting hazy, foggy almost. What was that witchcraft😩, is the first thing he thought to himself before you assured him that it was the alcohol messing with his brain. Xiao refrained from drinking anymore then, he also plopped back against the bed to feel the soft sheets underneath him engulf him. When drunk, he turned a bit more opened up, taking your hand in his and holding it close without saying anything really. You could’ve sworn you even saw a little smile painted across his features once you locked gazes. Xiao isn’t saying anything right now, the intimacy was rising up slowly while the both of you drifted away, dozing off in a deep slumber engaged in each others arms.

drunk! venti who's normal as always, you don't even realize he was a bit drunk when you first met up with him. Yet after destroying yet another bottle of fine dandelion wine, —which no one knew how he afforded it himself—, venti started singing and musing in a louder tone. He'd chant, praise and hum around the tavern with the people listening closely at his enchanting voice. Don't be fooled though, venti isn't doing that for free, he eyed yet another bottle behind the bar and figured that if he were to put on a show, he might get it for free (he didn't get it for free), in the end you had to practically drag him out since you figured diluc was starting to get fed up with venti's voice.

drunk! cyno who only wanted a drink after a long day of work, tasting the sweet n bitter liquor on his tongue and finally being able to calm down. You joined him of course, knowing that it might not stay at one glass, your assumption being turned true once you saw him rest his head on the palm of his hand, cheeks rosy with his lips curved up in a playful smile once eyeing you. He's so loud, screaming out your name so you'd come over to sit next to him (if he wasn‘t so cute you would’ve turned around and dipped) also now buckle up !!! because cyno will literally burst out different kinds of jokes to make you laugh, —since he adored seeing you smile—, just be aware that most of them are going to be painfully bland and unfunny, making only cyno laugh while you were looking at him like 🧍‍♀️. Yet he was adorable that way, loosening up a bit every once in a while was something he needed to stay sane. <3

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #childe x reader #ayato x reader #kaeya x reader #itto x reader #diluc x reader #kazuha x reader #heizou x reader #venti x reader #cyno x reader #tartaglia x reader #xiao x reader #childe x you #kamisato ayato x reader #diluc x you #genshin impact headcanons

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weskie · 17 days

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Relief (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

900 words | hurt/comfort themes | Fic Directory

His first injection did not go smoothly.

Albert Wesker is a man of many strengths, but even God is not always immune to the trials and tribulations of laboratory science. Especially not when said science is meant to enhance what makes him so special.

Yet here you were, one of his chosen. But you knew better than to think of yourself so highly; chances are you're simply a pawn. You know cunning and deceit when you see it, and he stinks to high heaven of such dark qualities.

Excella gives him the first dose of the supressant, a concoction designed to give him perfect control over the virus in his body. It is measured precisely based on her own studies and calculations. However, pride kept her from allowing anyone else to analyze her work. There's no immediate response, and she smiles happily.

And yet you know better, because you had seen her work. Compared to your own, she was way off– as you tried to tell her. She’d been careless with her decimals, a simple mistake with grave consequences. But you are lower on the totem pole. Your word doesn't matter until hers proves to be no good.

She probably regrets ignoring you when his face twitches, teeth clenching as he grips the edge of his chair, howling the first of many exclamations of harrowing pain.

“Albert! I–”

But his hand goes around her throat in a mere flash, silencing her, halting any attempt to touch him.

“You– gah!” He snarls, eyes flaring a deep, fiery red around his cat-like pupils. He drops her and, in turn, falls to the floor himself. Wesker hunches over on his knees, wails of agony leaving him as he clenches his chest and head.

The virus coursing through his body is being assaulted by an overdose of the suppressant, turning it more volatile and painful by the minute. Balance was key, and he had been thrown far from it.

There is no counter agent, no painkiller, no balm to soothe his agony– for what could ever help a god? Both you and Excella watch him writhe, but her fear keeps her from doing like you.

You're not even sure why you did it.

You sit behind him, legs splayed, and you pull him back to lean against you. His animalistic growls and pained, gasping breaths fill your ears, but all you do is hold him tight like some sort of human restraint.

Excella stares at you as if you'd lost your mind.

Perhaps you have.

A gloved hand grips your forearm with a force so punishing that it makes you yelp. He could break you with one finger, but he's clearly holding back. He could tear you limb from limb even now for invading his space like this.

But he doesn't.

“Breathe, Mister Wesker,” you say. You have his honorific wrong– it's doctor– but surely nobody in the room cares to notice. “It will pass, but you must breathe.”

A growl and seemingly involuntary jerk of his body disrupts your words, but you hold tight nonetheless.

You do so for nearly an hour. Against every tremor, against every wave of pain the likes of which you could never imagine. The only noises to be heard are his tight breaths and the hum of fluorescent laboratory lights.

Sometime in the middle of things, Excella scurried off to fix her mistake. She begged for forgiveness, but he shot her a look that made her go as white as a ghost.

The sleeves of your lab coat are shredded, arms bruised, and Wesker himself looks no better. It's as if all the fight had been torn out of him and he was no stronger than any mere mortal. The grip on your forearm is leagues lighter.

He's probably going to kill you for touching him like this. For reducing him to some helpless infant in need of comfort and support.

His breaths have steadied.

Somehow you'd brought your free hand up to thumb at his cheekbone. Some odd, inappropriate manner of soothing his pains.

“Mister Wesker, I–”

“Save it.” He says, cutting you off. Even his voice sounds weak. That fancy edge to it is gone almost entirely.

He's clearly awake and aware. Why isn't he moving away? Hell, why aren't you moving away?

“It was in your best interest to assist me.”

He's posturing, repositioning his authority despite what had just happened. Your thumb stops moving and that hand around your forearm grips tighter. When you resume, it slackens.

“Bold of you to have done this,” he hums. “And all this time I thought you lacked a spine.”

You're not sure what to say to such a statement. You're not sure what he's getting at either. A punishment? A reward? You can practically hear a smirk in his words despite the fact it was nowhere in sight.

“I can feel you shaking.”

Shit.

“Hm…” Wesker releases a sigh, something you've never heard from him before. “Tell you what, pet.”

Pet? Pet?

“Continue your little ministrations until I am on my feet, and I will consider your crimes forgiven.”

What? He wants you to keep this up?

“Does that sound satisfactory?” He asks. “Answer me, pet.”

With wide eyes and shaking hands, you nod.

“Y-Yes, Mister Wesker!”

“Good, good... Now, what punishment has Miss Gionne earned for herself, hm?”

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #albert wesker fanfiction

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lizardboiii · 1 month

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｡･:*˚:✧ANGER MANAGEMENT {Possessive!SukunaxFem!Reader}

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✧Summary: Anger management was by no means your strong suit. No amount of lessons or prayers could change that. In fact, it feels like you’ve been doing a lot worse lately with the appearance of a new neighbor in your next door apartment.

✧Chapter summary: Quality sibling time is enhanced with spaghetti propaganda.

✧Warnings: 18+, Slight NSFW, vulgar language, younger sibling behavior✧

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｡･:*˚:✧⤷Pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna x afab!reader

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Chapters: (i) (ii) (iii) (iv) (v) (vi) (vii)

｡･:*˚:✧⤷w/c: 4.5k

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Tropes: NeighborsAU!, AncestorsAU!

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｡･:*˚:✧⤷Chapter II : INFURIATED

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Hiding from your problems was one thing, but hiding from someone who lived directly next door was another. After your little ‘session’, guilt struck you like a truck. There was no way you could look Sukuna in the eyes in your current state.

So, here you were today sitting at home like always but with one thing different. Obnoxiously loud rock music barreled through your apartment like a hurricane. Your walls shook vigorously with every base drop.

Now normally you’d give your sweetheart neighbor a pleasant surprise visit, but not today. You had gone two days in a row without seeing his face, and you definitely needed another week to even hear his voice.

Cringing, you thought back to how you've been practically sneaking out of your own apartment when leaving for work. It was routine at this point, poke your head out, look both directions, and make a b-line for the elevator. You were surprised with how well it was actually working out.

Sighing in defeat you swaddled yourself with a blanket on your couch in some hope of drowning out the music. You groaned when you noticed the music somehow getting louder.

That’s it. Whipping up to your feet, you haphazardly threw your blanket to the ground and stormed over to your door. Practically tearing the door off its hinges, you entered the hall virtually frothing at the mouth.

Your anger carried you over to Sukuna’s door with a quickly extinguishing confidence. You stood before the white door and bit your lip. You’d be able to look at him, right? You didn’t even really do anything bad, right?

Letting out a deep sigh you facepalmed. You were by no means a coward, but right now you felt like one. Raising your fist to knock, you held it still in another moment of hesitation. Should you just suck it up and go home?

However, fate had chosen for you as the door suddenly swung open up to a taken aback Sukuna. His eyebrows rose at your smaller figure, hand still lingering in the air.

You were quick to put your hand down, “Could you turn down the music?”

Sukuna leered at you, “No yelling this time?”

Flashes from two days ago entered your brain. Sukuna’s rough voice, deep and dangerously addictive.

Shamefully, you bore your eyes into the floor and mumbled, “Just turn the damn music down.”

You heard Sukuna shift above you, a thoughtful hum passing through his lips, “I can’t hear you.”

You shoved your heels into the ground, “Turn down the music, please.”

Sukuna whistled, “And a 'please' too? What’s gotten into you, piggy?”

You felt like you could tear your hair out. Looking back up at him through your lashes you scowled at him. His red eyes scanned your face with such amusement you wanted to punch him again.

“Turn down the fucking music, scum.”

Sukuna smiled wildly. You noted how his pearly white teeth held a slight sharpness to them. Like a predator.

“No.”

You snarled at his pleased expression. What the hell did you even expect? In the spur of the moment an idea shot through your head as you glanced behind him. His dreaded speaker sat passively on his kitchen counter, music still flowing out of it in waves.

“Move.”

Sukuna raised his brow before you shoved his body aside and stormed in. You’d never been in his place before, only catching glimpses whenever you fought.

The room smelled faintly of a sharp woodsy scent, something you recognized but weren’t sure from where. Scanning the entrance you noticed his place was the same layout as your own apartment only flipped.

It was surprisingly neat too. The entire place was organized without a single dish in the sink. You cringed when you thought back to the state of your own apartment. He put you to shame.

A large hand hastily grabbed the back of your collar and pulled, choking you in the process, “Where the hell do you think you're going?”

You grabbed Sukuna’s hand and tried to pry it off, “If your so incapable of turning down your own music your poor considerate neighbor will help.”

Sukuna pulled your form closer to his chest, “I don’t think so, rat.”

You struggled against his grasp causing his other arm to wrap tightly around your waist. You cursed under breath at the secure hold.

Sukuna leaned down into your ear and chuckled, “Listen if you wanted in so bad you could’ve just asked.”

You swallowed hard at your predicament. Pressed up against him, you could feel the outline of his toned chest engulfing your back. His arms felt impossibly muscular, trapping you tightly with them.

Slowly, the hand that fit snugly against your waist made its way higher, directly pushing underneath your breasts.

Your heart was beating so fast you could hear the thumping in your ears, “Get off.”

Sukuna’s other hand moved from the collar of your shirt to roughly grab your chin. Harshly pulling your face up, he grinned at your panicked expression, “What if I don’t want to?”

Your face burned at his proximity. Too close. Trying to pull your face away, you winced when Sukuna’s calloused hands squeezed your face harder. The crescent of his nails dug into your skin creating small droplets of blood.

Trying to ignore the ache in your cheeks, you glared into his sharpened eyes. You could swear their eerie red shone brighter. Swallowing, you watched him glance from your eyes to your lips then back to your eyes again.

You internally scolded yourself as you found your eyes doing the same. However, you lingered on his lips for far longer. They looked soft. The curve of his cupid's bow looked as if they might even fit perfectly with yours.

Mindlessly, you felt yourself lean forward into him, eyes still locked on his lips. How would he taste? Minty? Or perhaps sweeter?

You bit your lip and forced yourself to draw back, this was not the time to be seduced by your neighbor. A dark chuckle made you return your eyes back up to deep red ones.

“Scared of a little kiss?” Sukuna pulled you forwards, lips just grazing your own, “Or just scared you’ll like it.”

Your body shivered as you closed your eyes, “Fuck off.”

SLAM

“BROTHERRRRRR!!”

You flinched so hard at the new voice you thought your soul left your body. Tearing your face away from Sukuna’s grip, you tried to shove him off you. Sukuna’s grip reluctantly gave way as he turned his attention to the new intruder.

“Yuuji,” you swallowed hard at the venom that laced Sukuna’s voice, “Why are you here so early?”

Yuuji merely scratched the back of his neck laughing off his brother’s bitterness, “I figured since I was late last time I’d come a bit early today!”

Sukuna rubbed his face with a deep sigh, “Of course you did.”

You sucked in your cheeks at an oblivious Yuuji. You had to thank the kid though. He just saved your sorry ass from becoming a certain playboy’s next victim of the night.

Pouting at his brother, Yuuji’s eyes eventually found you, “Hey (y/n)! How’s it going?”

You shrugged, “Better now.”

Glancing over, you side eyed an irritated Sukuna. He glared down at you with disdain as you threw him a fake sympathetic look.

“Are you here for dinner too?” Yuuji smiled brightly as he pulled two full grocery bags from behind his back.

“No-” “Yep!”

You quickly cut off Sukuna with a malicious grin. Hey, if you had to suffer through his music he could afford you a meal.

A large hand started shoving your back towards the door, “No. She was just leaving.”

You dug your feet into the ground, pushing against him, “Hey!”

“What!? No way! You have to stay!” Yuuji jumped in front of your path waving his arms frantically, “We have more than enough to spare anyway!”

Sukuna’s hands moved to grip your shoulders tightly, “I’m feeling pretty hungry.”

“Pleaseeeeeee,” Yuuji held his hands out in prayer.

You flinched as Sukuna’s grip strengthened, “Fine. She can stay for just dinner.”

Yuuji shot his hands up in the air in victory, “Yes! Let’s get cooking!”

You smiled at his cheery form. He was just as bright as the first time you ran into him.

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A soft knock rang out through your apartment as you sat on your couch painting your nails. Sighing heavily you set your polish down and shook your hand to dry it. Blowing on your freshly drying nails you opened the door to see…a familiar figure???

Your eyes widened at the sight of a tinier Sukuna. Though, this one had light brown eyes that looked as if they were melted gold. His hair was messier too, with black roots below his matching pink hair which contrasted with Sukuna’s pure pink look.

In some sick coincidence his face sported two tiny birthmarks under his eyes that matched the two tattoos under Sukuna’s eyes. There was no doubt he was another spawn from wherever the hell Sukuna crawled out of.

You stared at his form in a stupor, “Uh, hello?”

The boy’s eyes widened in confusion as he frantically looked at you then down to a scrap of paper in his hand, “Uhhhh, sorry I think I have the wrong apartment!”

You laughed at his troubled expression, “I take it you're related to another certain pink haired gentleman?”

You gagged in your mind. Gentleman your ass.

The boy ruffled his hair and laughed tiredly, “Right on the mark.”

You pointed to the door next to yours, “One over.”

He followed your finger and smiled brightly, “Ah, thank you so much…”

You lifted your hand, “(y/n) (l/n).”

“Itadori Yuuji! I’m here visiting my brother,” He firmly grasped your hand and shook it.

You felt taken aback by the strange interaction. It felt like you were in some alternate dimension with a normal well behaved Sukuna.

“Well Yuuji, I must say you are far more pleasant than that brother of yours, that’s for sure.”

Yuuji laughed, “I get that a lot.”

You matched his smile with your own, “It was nice meeting you, Yuuji. I hope to see you around some time, it’s nice to have a civil conversation for once.”

Why couldn’t this one have moved in next door?

“Same here, see you around (y/n)!” Yuuji threw you a salute before spinning on his heel.

You watched as he trudged over to the correct apartment and knocked. Poor kid, having to deal with that asshole for a brother. Not bothering to have another altercation with Sukuna, you quickly retreated into your apartment and returned to your nails. Grumbling when you noticed you managed to smear one.

--------------------------------------------------------------

You smiled fondly at the memory as you watched Yuuji cook from the kitchen’s island counter. To your astonishment you managed to run into him far more than you thought you would after your first encounter. He surprisingly visited Sukuna several times a week.

Soon enough, you managed to find out he went to the local university as a student. He lived in the freshman dorms but stayed with Sukuna whenever he wanted some alone time. You grimised at the thought of Sukuna being a safe haven. As if.

Speaking of the devil, Sukuna stood next to Yuuji cutting up tomatoes for the spaghetti sauce. As much as you liked watching him slave away for you, you figured you might as well help out as a courtesy for Yuuji.

You called out from the counter, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Yuuji hummed, “You're our guest, no need to worry!”

Sukuna scoffed next to him, “It’s better if she doesn’t get her hands on the food anyway. Who knows what she’d put in it.”

You frowned, “I’ll have you know I’m a fantastic cook!”

Sukuna turned to you with a sly grin, “Is that why I constantly hear your fire alarm going off?”

Clenching your fist on the table you snarled, “Some foods are better burnt!”

His eyebrows turned inward, “Like what?”

You chewed on your lip looking for an answer before you abruptly stood up and walked over to him. Snagging up a knife, you held your hand out for a tomato.

“I’ll show you how good I am.”

Sukuna held your gaze tauntingly before he dropped a small tomato in your hand, “Then show me.”

You huffed and set the tomato down on the cutting board. Slicing, you went slow trying to make all the cuts even. You scowled as your plan failed, only making your cuts even more uneven.

Turning to Sukuna, you looked to see how he was faring. There was no way he was doing that much better than you.

Your eye twitched in disbelief as you watched him cut through tomatoes at the speed of light, each slice perfect.

Sukuna side eyed you, “Need some help?”

You growled and slammed your knife into the tomato harder, “No.”

You halted your movements when you heard an annoyed sigh and the drop of a knife. Casually, Sukuna placed himself behind you and wrapped his arms around either side of you. His left hand immediately grabbed your own and helped you hold the tomato steady while his right assisted your cutting.

“No need to take it so slow,” Sukuna lifted your hand and brought it down firmly, “A good rhythm is all you need.”

You grumbled and followed his movements, the feeling of his body becoming a lot more apparent.

Sukuna leaned into your ear, “Just like that.”

You flushed as he sped up his pace, slicing the tomato faster. Your senses felt on overdrive as you drowned in his cologne, something you ignored earlier in favor of staring at his lips. You held the knife harder trying to ignore the growing heat in your stomach.

“You're doing so good for me.”

The knife sliced through the final chunk with blaringly loud ringing. You felt like you were on fire.

“Good girl.”

Keeping your gaze on the chopped tomato, you prayed Yuuji was too preoccupied to look to his left. But just as quickly as your tomato was cut, Sukuna’s warmth was gone.

Wordlessly, you glanced to your left at a humming Yuuji. You flinched in surprise when you noticed him glance over as well. He threw you a cheeky grin and raised his eyebrows, eyes darting between you and Sukuna.

Your jaw twitched as you playfully punched him, “Quite, brat. I just needed help with cutting.”

Yuuji smiled smugly, “Sureeeee~”

Another punch to his arm sent him into a laughing fit. Little brat. You were starting to see the Sukuna in him right now.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Laying on your stomach on the living room floor, your mouth was watering at the smell exiting the kitchen. You sighed pitifully as your stomach groaned. How much longer?

The blessing ding of a timer made your head snap up in the direction of the oven. An equally carnivorous Yuuji rocketed through the kitchen and grabbed a testing spoon. You watched fervently as he tasted the sauce.

With a hungry grin Yuuji turned to you, “It is complete.”

You jumped to your feet and made a mad dash to the kitchen, “Finally!”

Like starved animals you both hastily grabbed plates and began dumping pounds of freshly made spaghetti on them. Yuuji snagged a pitcher of water before he claimed a seat at the table as you followed in suit.

Excitedly, Yuuji lifted his filled fork up to his mouth only for a hand to grab his head. Sukuna frowned at him, “You didn’t save any for me, brat.”

Hearing his words you looked at Yuuji and then the empty pot. Sheepishly scratching the back of your head, you grabbed a spare plate and began dumping your extra servings onto it. Hesitantly, Yuuji coughed up some of his own before placing the plate down in front of Sukuna’s seat.

Sukuna merely sighed at your childishness and pulled out his chair to sit down in front of you. You were thankful you weren’t sitting next to him but you weren’t sure if sitting across from him was any better.

Twirling your fork in your noodles, you watched the brothers playfully interact. Yuuji shook his fork in defense at Sukuna who was attempting to steal more food. The two argued like a married couple.

You smiled softly at the sight before a soft pang hit your heart. You thought back to your own family. The home cooked meals, careless banter, attentive family members. But that was long gone. You had run from them like you always ran from everything.

Your mistakes had done enough damage for a lifetime, you couldn’t afford to be in the presence of their sympathetic eyes.

“(y/n)?”

You glanced over to a concerned Yuuji. Well, concerned from what you could tell. Sukuna’s hand took over most of his face as he was shoved away.

You let out a puff of air at the sight, “Hm?”

“PROTECT MY LAST MEATBALL!”

Your eyes widened as Yuuji flung a stray meatball from his fork at you.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

You scrambled to catch the loose meat before it hit the floor, recoiling at the wet feeling of the sauce. The sudden screech of a chair indicated a pissed Sukuna bolting from his seat.

“Put that down!”

You panicked as Sukuna stormed over to you. A quick flash of Yuuji throwing his hands over his head asking you to pass made you sigh.

Sukuna picked up his pace, “DON’T YOU DARE!”

In defiance, you chucked the meatball at Yuuji as Sukuna reached you. The sphere flew through the air before Yuuji caught it in his hand. Sukuna snarled as he lunged at Yuuji.

Laughing hysterically, Yuuji threw the meatball back at you as Sukuna wrestled him to the ground. Catching the meatball, you gaped at the pair of brothers fighting.

Yuuji flung his body around wildly trying to escape Sukuna’s relentless hold. A swift kick to Sukuna’s face made you snort.

Yuuji screamed when Sukuna regained the upper hand causing you to grab the counter trying to catch your breath. You shook uncontrollably as your laughter slowly became unstoppable.

“KAHH, (Y/N) HELP ME!!!!”

Yuuji struggled on the ground as Sukuna pinned his arms behind his back. You sucked air through your teeth at the sight, “You're on your own for this one, pal.”

Yuuji cried out as Sukuna slammed his body down one last time before he lashed at you, “Throw that shit away right now.”

You smirked at his aggravated expression before dropping the meatball to the ground, “Opps.”

The precious meatball landed on the tiled kitchen floor with a sickening plop. All at once Yuuji cried out in loss as Sukuna yelled in frustration. Letting go of his brother, Sukuna sprinted at your form.

You laughed harder and ran behind the island counter. Sukuna slammed his hands on the marbled surface as he glared at you from across, “Clean that shit up, right now.”

You flipped him off, “Kiss my ass.”

You yelped in surprise when Sukuna abruptly hurled himself over the counter and grabbed you. Pulling you over the island, he picked you up by your hips and threw you unceremoniously over his shoulder.

You lifted yourself up on his shoulders and pounded on his back, “Put me down, asshole!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

You cried out when he ruthlessly threw you down on the couch. Your body bounced up and down from the force as you scowled up at an annoyed Sukuna. Beside you, Yuuji lay drained on the floor as he cracked up laughing at Sukuna's pissed face.

Crossing his arms, Sukuna frowned at you both, “You’ll both be cleaning my kitchen if you ever plan to leave this place alive.”

You glanced at Yuuji who gave you a look before he mocked Sukuna, “Who died and made you king?”

The stomach-turning cracking of Sukuna’s knuckles shut Yuuji up immediately, “I mean, yes sir!”

You smiled, “I suppose I could help as well.”

Getting up from your spot, you and Yuuji quickly got to work cleaning the mess. Yuuji washed the dirty dishes while you sat on the floor scrubbing the sauce the meatball left off.

Wiping up the soapy water from the floor, your brows creased as legs came into your view. Glancing up you frowned at a smirking Sukuna.

“That’s a good look for you.”

You sat up from your crouched position and rubbed your back, “What do you mean?”

“On your knees in front of me.”

You choked on your spit, “What-”

Smooth laughter mocked you as you quickly stood to your feet. You crossed you arms and glared at him, “Your fucking disgusting.”

Sukuna leaned his back against the counter, “Damn, and I was getting used to the view.”

You threw your dirtried rag at his face. A swift hand easily caught it and threw it back. Agitated, you tossed it on the counter, “You're insufferable.”

Sukuna laughed, “You're an easy target.”

Before you could wring his throat, a cheery Yuuji let out a loud exaggerated sigh, “I can’t believe the night is almost over.”

Thank god. You were starting to realize how much you hated Sukuna again.

“Wait!” You flinched at Yuuji’s mood switch, “Let’s watch a movie!”

“Absolutely not.”

Yuuji pouted at his brother's words, “Come on! I never get to hang with (y/n)! I bet you get to all the time!”

You internally cringed. Like you’d ever willingly hang out with Sukuna alone.

Yuuji huffed as he realized his begging was getting nowhere with Sukuna. Finding another solution Yuuji turned his attention to you.

Throwing you puppy eyes Yuuji stuck out his lower lip, “Pleaseee!”

“No-” “Alright.”

Cutting off Sukuna, you resigned yourself to Yuuji’s pouting. What can you say, you were a sucker for the golden retriever ones. At least your presence would annoy Sukuna.

Yuuji smiled, “Alright!”

You sighed, “What movie?”

Yuuji scratched his chin, “Anything with Jennifer Lawrence.”

You deadpanned at his response. Of course.

Once you finished cleaning you were quickly moved by Yuuji into the open living room. Claiming a seat on the end of Sukuna’s couch, you curled up in a ball and watched Yuuji scroll through Netflix.

He currently sat on the floor with his back propped up against the edge of the couch. A pillow tucked comfortably behind his back. Sukuna, on the other hand, sat on the opposite end of the couch, his legs taking up the rest of the L shape.

“Just pick a damn movie already.”

Yuuji huffed, “Then you pick!”

Sukuna rested his head on his fist, “No.”

Yuuji exclaimed a loud sigh before settling on a random movie, “If this sucks, that's on you.”

Sukuna moved his foot to kick Yuuji in the back of the head, making him yelp and rub his scalp. You shook your head at their antics and tried to focus on the start of the movie.

You blinked when a certain female character came on screen. Jennifer Lawrence. You looked at Yuuji who was staring at the screen intensely. Shoving your fist into your mouth, you tried to contain your laughter. At least he’ll be happy even if the movie blows.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Sweltering.

You were so hot you felt like you were dying.

Attempting to turn to your side you froze when you realized you couldn’t. Peaking your eyes open, your mouth dropped when you came face to chest with a larger body.

It didn’t take you long to realize you were cuddled up with Sukuna on the longer portion of the couch.

His right arm curled suggestively around your waist and rested on your hip bone. While your own arm clung possessively over his chest.

You gawked at the situation. Internally freaking out, you tried to free yourself as quickly and as quietly as possible. You must’ve fallen asleep during the movie, but how you got in this position was beyond you.

Gently slipping out of Sukuna’s loose grip, you carefully sat up. You blinked again in confusion when a newly appeared blanket slipped off you and cascaded down onto Sukuna’s chest. That wasn’t there either last night.

You rubbed the bridge of your nose and checked the time on your phone, 3:04am. Shit it was late. You’ve definitely overstayed your welcome.

Moving to stand up, you jolted when a large hand captured your wrist and pulled you back. Its frigid temperature cooled the aching heat of your skin.

Quickly, you snapped your head over to what you thought was a sleeping Sukuna in shock. His head laid lazily on top of his folded arm as his tired eyes took in your shape.

“Where are you going?”

You shivered at the raspiness that took hold of his voice, “Home.”

A shift from below you made you tear your gaze away from him. Looking at the floor, you eyed a sprawled out Yuuji who was snoring loudly in the center of the living room.

“Why?” Sukuna’s thumb slowly traced circles in your wrist, almost enticing you to stay.

You went to answer before strong arms captured your waist, “Just stay. It’s already late.”

You clutched the previously discarded blanket as Sukuna’s hands rubbed up and down your sides, feeling every curve you had to offer.

Slowly, a hand crept underneath your shirt caressing your bare skin. Its icy touch shot sparks through your entire body.

“I can’t.”

You shuddered when your shirt lifted slightly as soft lips kissed your lower back. Their fullness sensually traced the dip of your spine before lifting away.

“Stay,” A rough thumb swiped tantalizingly slow underneath your waistband, ghosting over your v-line.

All you could manage was a silent nod as Sukuna’s arms pulled you back into him. His straying hands returned back to your stomach and clutched your body close. You closed your eyes and allowed him to bury himself in the crook of your neck.

His faint breath tickled your neck slightly before his lips started to trail the curve of your shoulder. You gasped lightly when he stopped near the crevasse of your neck and bit hard. He sucked and nipped at the spot making you tremble before he licked it clean.

Pushing his face further into your newly formed bruise you heard his breathing even out, signaling him falling asleep. Once soft snores entered your ear you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Allowing yourself to melt in his grasp you sighed, were you still dreaming? When you wake up will that mark still be there or was this just another one of your perverse hallucinations?

You squeezed your eyes shut. A small part of you prayed it wasn’t the last. That it was real. But you’d never admit that.

Tonight you’d allow yourself to be wrapped up in intoxicating arms. The hatred that filled them turned still until the morning. Once you woke up you’d go back to how things were. The buffer of Yuuji no longer containing the festering anger that crawled beneath your skin.

You’d go back to despising Sukuna.

｡･:*˚:✧⤷

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