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roomsofangel · 16 hours

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LOVER, PLEASE STAY. . .

chapter six

synopsis you and wooyoung have been best friends for as long as you could remember, always overcoming everything in your friendship even after a few bumps in the road and confessions in the past. you could always trust that no matter wooyoung will always be there, right?

wc 10.3k (yes you read that right…)

chapter warnings oh lord.. okay so alcohol consumption, mentions of grief and death (yeosang), a lot of guilt and blaming themselves, seonghwa breaks down, wooyoung talks a lot about death and dying at one point, gets a little suggestive towards the end

a/n this fic is almost over </3 can you believe that? this chapter actually was even longer, including the full smut towards the end but i felt after writing it, it didn’t fit and i could possibly post it separately if anyone wants that. but with that aside— i hope you’re comfortable and have a few snacks maybe even tissues?? a lot is unpacked here

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ♥️

sitting on your bed, you bite your nails anxiously, your mind lost in thought as the complexities of your situation swirl around you like a storm. each circle of thought feels like a vice grip around your chest, making it harder to breathe. the weight of it all bears down on you, and you can't escape the feeling that you let wooyoung down, that you've failed yourself and everyone else. you let your head sink into your hands, and you take a deep, shaky breath.

the air in the room seems thick and stifling, and you struggle to find any solace in the silence that surrounds you. all you can think about is the tangled mess you've gotten yourself into, and the disappointment that you can feel building in the pit of your stomach. you know that you need to figure out a way to fix this, but at the moment, everything seems so overwhelming that you can barely think straight.

the weight of the day to come settles on your shoulders, and you can't stop thinking about the upcoming meeting with hongjoong, seonghwa, and san. you all know that wooyoung needs help, but the thought of having to confront your own grief along with his struggle felt like too much to bear. it was beginning to feel like an impossible task, and you can't help but despair at the thought of watching your best friend go through the same self-destructive path that your other friend did. how can you possibly find a way to help him, when you can barely help yourself?

you feel like you're drowning in a sea of conflicting emotions — grief, guilt, helplessness, and frustration. every thought feels like a weight dragging you down deeper and deeper into the tumultuous waves. how are you supposed to help wooyoung when you can barely keep your own head above water?

your own heart was beating out of your chest, and the phrase "too much" was just about all you could use to describe the overwhelming onslaught of emotions rushing through you. it was getting to be almost too much to handle, but you also knew — you refused — to give up on wooyoung. he was your best friend, and you couldn't bear the thought of abandoning him in his time of need. you just had to hang on and figure out what to do next.

you all sat in seonghwa's living room, the air felt heavy with tension as you all tried to figure out where to start. finally, san broke the silence, his voice cutting through the thick air like a knife. "how do we go about this?" he asked, his eyes flicking between all of you. everyone seemed to tense up at san's words, the reality of the situation crashing down on all of you.

you looked around at the others, seeing the worry and concern etched on their faces. hongjoong's jaw was clenched tightly, and seonghwa looked like he was trying to maintain a calm exterior, but the muscles in his neck were tense.

you all were trying to get by and cope in your own ways, while also trying to prevent a similar tragedy from occurring. how do you save someone who seems to not want to be saved?

it felt like an impossible task — trying to save someone who seemed hell-bent on self-destruction. how do you pull someone back from the edge when they're determined to jump? yes, you and the others were doing your best to cope and prevent a tragedy, but it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. you all wanted to save wooyoung, but he seemed unwilling to even try to save himself.

the tension in the room was palpable as you all sat there in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. hongjoong spoke up, his voice gruff with emotion. "we can't force wooyoung to change if he doesn't want to, but we can't just sit back and watch him destroy himself.“

“we.. we were blind to the signs before and i can’t risk it now,”

the words sent a pang of guilt through your chest. it was clear that hongjoong was blaming himself for not being able to save yeosang, and you could see the guilt and shame in the faces of seonghwa and san as well. you knew that you all felt responsible. hongjoong's voice broke the heavy silence that followed his words. "we all failed yeosang," he said softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

the weight of that statement hung in the air like a pall, and you could feel the guilt and self-blame radiating off of all of you. you knew that you had all failed yeosang, in your own ways. you should have been there for him more, should have noticed the signs sooner, should have done something to prevent his downfall. but you hadn't, and now it was too late.

you had all failed yeosang, and now you were desperately trying not to repeat the same mistake with wooyoung. but even as you sat there, trying to figure out how to save your best friend, a small voice in the back of your head was screaming at you, telling you that this time, you were going to fail too.

you couldn't shake the feeling that history was about to repeat itself, that no matter what you did, you were going to end up losing wooyoung just as you had yeosang. it was a heavy weight to carry, and you could tell that the others were feeling it too. the silence in the room was deafening, and the sense of hopelessness was practically suffocating.

the words escaped your mouth before you could stop them, your voice cracking with emotion as you spoke. "i can't give up on wooyoung," you repeated, determined to make them understand. "i won't let him down." your eyes flickered around the room, meeting the gazes of the others one by one. you could see the pain and sorrow in their eyes, but there was also a glimmer of hope — hope that maybe this time, things could be different.

they all nodded, silently agreeing with you. hongjoong’s jaw was still clenched tight, but his eyes met yours with a fierce determination. seonghwa looked pale, but there was a gleam of determination in his gaze as well. even san, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, gave you a solemn nod. they all wanted to save wooyoung as much as you did.

the room lapsed into silence once more, but this time, it was more determined than hopeless. you could feel the resolve in the air, the quiet determination to not let history repeat itself. you knew that it wasn't going to be easy, and that there was a very real chance that you would fail, but you also knew that you had to try. for wooyoung, for yeosang, and for yourselves.

as soon as you stepped inside your shared home, you could hear the faint sound of a guitar coming from wooyoung's room. it was a sound you hadn't heard in a long time, and it sent a pang of nostalgia through you. you couldn't remember the last time you'd heard him pick up his guitar, and a frown tugged at your lips as you realized how long it had been. you stood there for a moment, just listening to the quiet music coming from his room.

the sound of the guitar was soft, almost mournful, and it tugged at your heartstrings. you stood outside his door, listening for a moment longer, feeling a mixture of sadness and hope stirring in your chest. you knew that music had always been an outlet for wooyoung, a way for him to express himself when he couldn't find the words. maybe this was a small glimmer of the old him peeking through.

the music suddenly stopped, and you shook yourself out of your thoughts. you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should knock on his door or leave him alone. you knew that he wouldn't want you to see him like this, but something was pulling you towards his room. eventually, you gently knocked on his door, trying to keep your voice steady. "wooyoung?"

there was silence from the other side of the door for a few moments, and you almost started to turn away when you heard a soft, muffled voice. "come in," wooyoung said, and you obeyed, slowly pushing open the door and stepping into his room.

as you stepped into his room, the memories of the past few days came crashing back into your mind. you hadn't been able to truly be in his room since that night, when you had found out what he had been hiding from you. and even looking at him had been difficult, ever since that surprising kiss. it was as if everything was becoming more complicated by the minute, and you didn't know how to feel about it.

you swallowed the lump in your throat and looked up at wooyoung, who was sitting on his bed with a defeated expression on his face.

his shoulders were slumped, and he looked smaller than usual. there was a hollow look in his eyes, and you could see the sadness etched on his features. the usually vibrant wooyoung that you knew had been replaced by this shell of a person, and it broke your heart to see him like this. you swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check, before finally speaking. "can i...can i sit down?"

wooyoung shrugged, gesturing lazily to the space beside him on the bed. "yeah, whatever." his voice was flat, lacking his usual sarcastic humor. you slowly took a seat on the bed, keeping a small distance between you two, and waited for him to speak.

the silence in the room was deafening, and you could feel the tension between the two of you like a physical weight. you watched as wooyoung fiddled with the strings on his guitar, his eyes downcast. you could tell that he wasn't going to speak first, so you took a deep breath and broke the silence yourself. "i...i missed hearing you play," you said softly.

wooyoung's fingers paused on the strings, and he looked up at you with a brief flash of surprise in his eyes. "you did?" he asked, his voice still flat. he sounded skeptical, as if he couldn't believe that you would miss something as small as his guitar playing.

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the tense atmosphere between you two. "yeah, i did," you said softly. "it’s been a while since i’ve heard you play." you paused, searching for the right words. "i know....i know things have been rough lately, but...hearing you play...it reminds me of happier times."

there was a flicker of something in wooyoung's eyes, something that looked almost like a spark of recognition. his expression softened for a moment, but then he quickly looked away, his shoulders hunching up again. "happier times," he repeated, his voice bitter. "those days are gone, remember?"

you felt a pang in your heart at his words, the truth of them sending a wave of sadness through you. you knew he was right, that things could never go back to how they were before. "i know," you whispered, your voice thick with emotions. "but...but that doesn't mean there can't be happier days in the future too, right?"

wooyoung sighed heavily, his fingers picking up their restless fiddling with the strings. "what’s the point?" he mumbled, his voice low and defeated. "everything's just going to fall apart eventually, so what's the point of trying to be happy in the first place?"

your heart ached at his words, at the resigned acceptance in his voice. you wanted to reach out and shake him, to make him see that there was still hope, that there was still joy to be found in life. but you knew that it wouldn't do any good. he was too deep in his own despair, too focused on the negatives to see anything else. "that’s not true," you said softly, your voice gentle. "you can't just give up on happiness, woo."

wooyoung scoffed, finally looking up at you with a sardonic smile. "can’t i?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "why not? what’s the point of being happy when it's all just going to end anyway? when we're all just going to die in the end?"

you felt a wave of frustration and heartache at his words. "because that's not all there is to life," you said firmly. "yes, bad things happen, and people die, and everything ends eventually. but...but that doesn't mean there's no joy to be found in the meantime. life isn't just about the ending, it's about all the moments in between too."

wooyoung let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "you sound like a hallmark card," he said, a hint of mockery in his voice. "life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. sometimes, it's just a giant shitstorm that drags you down until you can't see any light."

and you knew that he was right. life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, and sometimes it was a giant shitstorm that dragged you down. you both had lost yeosang, after all, you knew all too well what life could throw. but that didn't mean you had to give up on happiness entirely. "i know that," you said softly, keeping your voice steady. "but...but that doesn't mean it can't be good sometimes too."

wooyoung’s shoulders sagged, and he let out a heavy sigh. "what’s the point, though? what’s the point of even trying when everything just falls apart in the end?" he mumbled, his eyes unfocused. you could tell that he wasn't just talking about happiness, but about life in general. he looked so lost, so broken, and you didn't know how to fix it. all you could do was speak softly, trying to break through his cloud of despair.

"the point is that life is worth living, woo," you said gently. "yes, things fall apart, and bad things happen, but that doesn't mean we should give up altogether. life is about the journey, not just the destination." you paused, trying to find the right words. "don’t give up on happiness. don’t give up on life, woo. please."

wooyoung's expression hardened, his shoulders tensing up. "easy for you to say," he muttered, his voice sharp. "you still have hope, still believe in this whole happy ending crap."

"and you don't?" you asked, your voice soft. wooyoung’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, avoiding your gaze

the room fell silent for a moment, the air thick with tension. you could see the internal struggle playing out on wooyoung's face, the part of him that wanted to believe in hope warring with the part that had given up. finally, he looked back up at you, his expression resigned. "i don't think i do," he said, his voice low and bitter. "it all just feels pointless now."

your heart broke at his words, and you could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. you hated seeing him like this, so defeated and hopeless. "woo—" you started to say, but he cut you off, his voice sharp. "don’t," he growled. "don’t try to give me some pep talk about hope and happiness. it’s all bullshit, and you know it."

you didn’t want to give up on wooyoung, you promised him. it might have seemed so stupid holding onto a promise the two of you made as kids but you held onto it tighter than ever before now, “but what isn’t bullshit is that i care about you and i refuse to give up on you.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened slightly at your words, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes. vulnerability, maybe. but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a steely determination. "why?" he asked, his voice gruff. "why do you even care? why won't you give up on me?"

the contrast between then and now was like a punch to the gut. you couldn't believe that this cold, distant wooyoung was the same one who had sobbed in your arms, begging you not to give up on him. it was a sharp reminder of how far he had fallen, how much his despair had changed him and it hadn’t even been that long of a time gap. wooyoung was falling victim rapidly to his own despair and you can’t keep up.

you wanted to cry out, to scream at him, to shake him until he snapped out of this, but you knew that wouldn't help. all you could do was keep your voice level, keep your face neutral as you replied. "because you're my best friend, woo. because i love you. because i don't think you're completely gone yet. not yet."

wooyoung's expression flickered again, the coldness in his eyes faltering for a moment. "best friend," he repeated, his voice low. "right." there was a hint of bitterness in his tone, but you could see something else beneath it - a flicker of vulnerability, maybe even hope. he looked away, avoiding your gaze as he muttered, "i’m a lost cause, remember? too far gone."

"no, you're not.. not to me," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the tears that threatened to spill over. "you're not too far gone. you’re still in there, woo. the boy who used to make stupid jokes and play pranks on me. the boy who used to chase butterflies in the park. the boy who was my best friend. you’re still there, somewhere."

wooyoung's jaw ticked, and he looked back up at you. "that boy is gone," he said, his voice hard. "he died with yeosang." but there was a hint of doubt in his eyes, as if he wasn't completely convinced by his own words. you could see him struggling, grappling with the conflicting emotions within him.

you took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "no, he's not," you said firmly. "he’s buried deep down, buried under all that pain and grief and despair. but he's still there, woo. and i’m not gonna give up on him - on you - until he comes back."

wooyoung's gaze flicked over your face, searching your eyes for any sign of dishonesty. but all he saw was determination and unwavering belief in him. a flash of something passed through his eyes - hope, maybe? or just resignation? he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped. "you're crazy, you know that?" he muttered, his voice gruff.

a small smile tugged at your lips at his words. "maybe," you admitted. "but i’m not giving up on you, woo. no matter how much you try to push me away. i’m gonna be here.”

wooyoung scowled, his gaze dropping down to his guitar. his fingers fidgeted with the strings, the sound of discordant notes filling the air. "you’re a stubborn idiot, you know that?" he mumbled, but there was no real bite to his words.

"and you're a stubborn, self-deprecating idiot," you shot back, a hint of humor in your voice. "but lucky for you, i happen to like stubborn, self-deprecating idiots."

against his will, a small huff of laughter escaped wooyoung’s lips, and he quickly covered it up with a cough. “you’re something else, alright,” he muttered, glancing up at you with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression.

“i guess that’s why i fell in love with you in the first place.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt yourself flush slightly. it was still a surprise to hear him admit that he had fallen in love with you, even after all the mess that had come between you two. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but you couldn’t help the hint of a smile that tugged at your lips. "i guess you just have bad taste," you quipped, your voice light.

wooyoung let out a soft snort, his lips curving up into a small smirk. "yeah, that must be it," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. he looked up at you again, and for a moment, it was like the old wooyoung was back - the teasing, playful boy that you used to know. the glimmer of hope in your chest flickered brighter.

you could feel the mood shifting, the tension in the room slowly dissipating. you let out a soft breath, feeling a sense of relieved. wooyoung’s expression softened slightly, his gaze flickering over your face again. "you’re still a pain in the ass though, you know that?" he said, his voice gruff but lacking the usual bite.

you couldn't help but chuckle, feeling a sense of familiarity in his words. "yeah, well, you’re not exactly a picnic yourself,” you retorted, a hint of warmth in your voice.

he let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a jolt of warmth through you. "touché,” he said, his voice softer. he paused, his gaze flicking down to his guitar, and you could see the conflict playing out on his face again.

you waited in silence, letting him sort through his thoughts. you could see the struggle in his eyes - the part of him that still wanted to push you away, to keep his walls up and his heart guarded. but there was also a part of him - a small, vulnerable part - that was slowly breaking through the surface.

wooyoung took a deep breath, his grip on the guitar tightening. "you really won’t give up on me, will you?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper. his gaze flicked back up to you, searching your face for any hint of hesitation.

meeting his gaze unflinchingly, your heart clenching at the vulnerability in his eyes. "no," you said firmly, your voice gentle but unwavering. "i won’t give up on you, woo. i’m gonna be here, no matter how much you try to push me away."

wooyoung’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a heavy sigh. “god, you’re infuriating,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. despite his words, there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “why are you always so goddamn stubborn?”

you couldn’t help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth of affection for him. “because i love you, you idiot,” you said teasingly. “and you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

he rolled his eyes, but the smile on his lips grew wider. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, setting his guitar down on the floor. he looked up at you again, his gaze softer than it had been before. “i don’t deserve you, you know that?”

“don’t start that whole ‘i don’t deserve you’ crap,” you said firmly, your voice a mix of fondness and frustration. “i decide who’s deserving of me, thank you very much.”

wooyoung let out a soft chuckle, his eyes glinting with amusement. “feisty as always,” he said, his voice teasing. he smirked at you, his gaze wandering over your face and down to your lips. “somehow, that makes me fall for you even more.”

you felt your cheeks heat up at his words, and you cursed yourself internally for being so weak for him. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but you knew he could see the effect he had on you. “you’re insufferable,” you muttered, trying to mask your flustered state with nonchalance.

“yeah, but you love me anyway,” he said, his smirk growing wider. he leaned back, propping himself up on his hands as he continued to gaze at you with playful admiration. “there must be something wrong with you, falling for someone as insufferable as me.”

you let out a huff of laughter, shaking your head at his audacity. “there’s definitely something wrong with me,” you agreed, a smile tugging at your lips. “must be some sort of masochism, loving a stubborn, sarcastic, self-deprecating idiot like you.”

wooyoung let out a mock gasp, his hand flying up to his chest in feigned shock. “how dare you!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with mock outrage. “insulting my good name like that. and here i was, thinking you loved me for my charming personality and dashing looks.”

you rolled your eyes at his theatrics, a laugh escaping your lips. “well, your good looks do help make up for it,” you said, a hint of teasing in your voice. “but your personality could use some work.”

you couldn’t deny the wave of nostalgia that washed over you at the familiar banter. it was as if, for a moment, the old wooyoung was back - the one who would tease and flirt with you as easily as breathing.

you found yourself smiling, the heaviness in your heart lifting slightly. it was moments like these - the ones that showed glimpses of the old wooyoung - that gave you hope that he was still in there, somewhere.

when walking inside seonghwa’s apartment, you weren’t sure what to expect, and you found your heart sinking when your gaze landed on the way he was curled up on the floor, tears streaming down his face, your heart clenched in your chest. you rushed over to him, your voice gentle but filled with concern. "hwa? what’s wrong? what happened?"

seonghwa looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy from crying. his whole body was shaking, and he looked so small and broken on the floor. he was still in his pyjamas, his normally impeccable hair messy and disheveled.

he took one look at you, and a fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes. “yn,” he whispered your name, his voice cracked and fragile.

all the usual composed and graceful image of him completely shattered in front of you. you didn’t hesitate for a moment, rushing over to him and pulling him into your arms.

“shhh,” you whispered, holding him tightly as he sobbed against your chest. “i’m here, it’s okay hwa.”

seonghwa to you like a lifeline, his fingers grasping at your shirt as if terrified you would disappear if he let go. he buried his face in your shoulder, his whole body quivering with the force of his sobs.

“i can’t do this anymore, yn,” he whispered, his voice broken and hoarse. “i can’t…i can’t keep pretending everything’s fine.”

you held him closer, your fingers stroking his hair in a soothing gesture. “i know, hwa,” you whispered back, your voice gentle. “i know…and you don’t have to pretend anymore. you don’t have to be strong for us all the time. let me be strong for you this time, okay?”

seonghwa let out a strangled sob, his body shaking even harder at your words. but he didn’t pull away from you, didn’t try to put up his usual walls and act like he was fine. instead, he just clung to you even tighter, as if desperate for comfort.

“i miss him so much,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken whisper. “and i don’t know how i’ll cope if wooyoung..” he couldn’t finish his words as he choked back a sob

you felt your own tears start to well up at his words, and you held him tighter, you knew exactly how he was feeling, because you felt the same way about wooyoung. but seeing seonghwa - the one who had always been the strong, steady shoulder for all of you to lean on - break down like this broke you differently.

you tightened your grip on him, the other arm moving to rub warm circles on his back. “we’re gonna get through this together, hwa. all of us. we’ll help each other through this, okay?”

seonghwa nodded, his fingers digging into your shirt. his sobs had quieted down slightly, but he was still trembling violently in your arms. he buried his face further into your shoulder, his voice hoarse and raw. “promise you won’t leave me too?”

you pulled him even closer to you. “i promise,” you whispered

seonghwa let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing slightly in your arms. he was still shaking, but it didn’t feel like he was about to fall apart entirely now.

he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes red and puffy, and your heart broke again to see him so broken. “i’m sorry for falling apart on you like this,” he mumbled, his voice small and ashamed.

“don’t be sorry,” you said gently, your fingers continuing to stroke his hair. “you don’t have anything to be sorry for. It’s okay to fall apart, hwa. you’ve been so strong for all of us…it’s okay to let yourself be weak sometimes.”

“especially with everything going on? hwa, don’t apologize.. it was bound to happen.”

seonghwa let out a shaky sigh, his body sagging against you. “i…i feel like i have to be strong for all of you,” he said quietly, his eyes dropping down to his hands, which were still clutching onto your shirt. “i feel like if i break, you all will too.”

“i still blame myself for that night.. all because i was weak for one moment.”

the guilt and self-blame was evident in his voice. you wanted to shake him, to tell him that none of it was his fault, that none of you blamed him. but you knew it wouldn’t change anything.

“hwa,” you said softly, “look at me.”

seonghwa lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting yours. his expression was heartbreaking - a mix of guilt, shame, and despair.

“you’re not responsible for us,” you said firmly. “none of us blame you for anything that happened, hwa. and we don’t need you to be strong all the time. we just need you. just you.” you lifted a hand to brush a tear from his cheek, your gaze steady on his.

“i just.. can’t help but feel as if he’d still be here if i hadn’t gone home early that night.” seonghwa whispered

“hwa…,” you began, your voice gentle. “you can’t blame yourself for this. there was no way you could’ve known what would happen. this isn’t your fault, okay?”

seonghwa let out a shaky sigh, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “i know that,” he mumbled, his voice quiet. “but i keep thinking…what if i had just stayed a little longer. or what if i had gone back after yeosang called me. what if…what if i had just been there?”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you struggled to keep your voice steady. “it doesn’t matter what you could’ve done, hwa,” you said softly. “you can’t change what happened. and you did what you thought was best. none of it was your fault.”

“…and i know yeosang knows that too..”

seonghwa let out a soft sob, his fingers curling tighter into your shirt. “i know he does,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “but…but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like i failed him. like i failed all of you.”

“you didn’t fail anyone,” you said firmly, your voice gentle. “you’ve been the glue holding us all together, hwa. we’d be lost without you.” you paused, your gaze dropping down to where his fingers were still clenched tightly in your shirt.

seonghwa let out a shuddering breath, his body trembling slightly. “i feel like…like i should’ve done more. like i should’ve known something was wrong. i feel like i should’ve been able to prevent all of this from happening.”

“because now wooyoung is going down that same path.”

“hwa, you can’t be everywhere at once,” you said gently. “you can’t prevent every tragedy, no matter how much you wish you could.”

seonghwa let out a soft sob, his head dropping forward until his forehead was resting on your shoulder. “but i wish i could,” he whispered, his voice ragged and broken. “i wish i could protect all of you.”

you laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a heavy heart. thoughts about wooyoung, seonghwa, and the others kept swirling through your mind, making it impossible to shut your eyes and sleep.

your mind kept going back to seonghwa, to the broken and shattered expression on his face as he had fallen apart in your arms. you couldn’t help but wonder how the others were really doing…what exactly have they been holding back for the sake of everyone else?

you couldn’t stand the thought of any of them suffering in silence, pretending to be fine when they were crumbling inside. you wanted to reach out to them, to ask them how they were really doing, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. they had all perfected the art of hiding their emotions, of masking their pain behind smiles and jokes.

you let out a heavy sigh, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. the silence of your room was deafening, only interrupted by the occasional car passing by outside. your mind was still racing, refusing to let you rest.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on with the others — something they weren’t telling you. you knew they were all suffering in their own way, trying to hold themselves together for the sake of the group.

the weight of that focus was weighing heavily on you, knowing that everyone was pouring all their energy into trying to save wooyoung. and rightfully so - wooyoung was spiraling, his self-destructive habits threatening to consume him.

but in the process of focusing on him, you couldn’t help but wonder if the others were drowning too, silently struggling with their own pain.

the thought of the others suffering in silence broke your heart. you knew they were all trying to be strong for each other, to hold it together. but how long could they really keep it up? how long could they pretend to be okay when they were falling apart inside?

and how long would it be until it was you?

the question hung in your mind, sending a shiver down your spine. you knew you couldn’t keep holding up your facade of being strong forever. eventually, it would all become too much, and you would collapse just like seonghwa had.

but the thought of breaking down terrified you. you were the one they all relied on, the one who kept things together when they started to fall apart. if you fell too, who would be there to catch everyone else? who would be the one that catches you?

you rolled over in your bed again, pulling the covers up to your chin like a makeshift shield. you tried to take deep breaths, to calm your racing thoughts. but it was hard when you knew everyone else’s happiness was resting on your shoulders. it was a heavy burden to carry, and one you weren’t sure how much longer you could bear.

you were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of the shower starting, and you knew it was wooyoung. you couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing in there, how he was feeling. was he okay? were his thoughts consuming him, or was he just cleaning himself off after a long day?

you were tempted to get up and go check on him, to make sure he was okay. but you didn’t want to intrude if he needed some time alone. so, you laid there, listening to the sound of the water running and wondering what was going on inside his head.

the sound of the shower was like a metronome, steady and rhythmic. it was almost hypnotizing, and you found your eyes drooping slightly as you focused on it. despite everything, exhaustion was finally starting to catch up to you.

you let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing into the bedding. maybe you could get some sleep after all. the steady sound of the shower combined with the exhaustion of emotional turmoil was finally starting to take its toll.

you sat next to wooyoung on the patio, watching as he took a drag from his cigarette. the sunlight had just started creeping over the horizon, bathing everything in a soft golden glow. but you weren’t focused on the sunrise - your gaze was fixed on wooyoung.

he was beautiful like this, bathed in the soft light of dawn. the morning sun highlighted the sharp angles of his face, and you found yourself unable to look away.

the soft silence between the two of you was comfortable, familiar. you knew each other so well by now, knew each other’s silences as much as each other’s words.

you watched as wooyoung’s exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. he looked pensive, his usual carefree facade replaced with a thoughtful expression.

you wanted to reach out to him, to ask what was on his mind. but you knew better than to push him. whenever he was like this, he needed time to sort through his thoughts, to let the words come to him in his own time.

the silence was broken only by the occasional sound of wooyoung exhaling smoke or taking another drag from his cigarette. you kept your gaze on him, studying the way his features looked in the golden light, the way his fingers held the cigarette, the way his shoulders tensed with each inhale.

you knew him so well by now, knew all his little tics and mannerisms. there was something different about him this morning. he seemed more serious than usual, more troubled. you could see it in the way his jaw was clenched, the way his eyes were fixed on some distant point in the skyline.

watching as he finished the cigarette, he crushed it out in the ashtray sitting on the railing next to him. he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging a little as his facade of nonchalance slipped just a fraction.

you could see the tension in his body, the way his fingers curled around the rail as if trying to hold himself together. finally, wooyoung spoke. his voice was hoarse and rough with emotion. “i…i don’t know what i’m doing anymore,” he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the skyline.

you watched as he took a shaky breath, his knuckles white with how tightly he was gripping the railing. his eyes were still fixed on the horizon, as if he was afraid to look at you.

“i know i’m spiraling,” he continued, his voice low and rough. “i know i’m doing all the things i shouldn’t be doing, the things all of you have been telling me not to do. but i can’t stop. i don’t know how to stop.”

he let out a shaky exhale, the desperation in his voice tearing at your heart. you could see tears welling up in his eyes, “i can’t sleep,” he whispered, his voice choking up. “i can’t eat. i can’t concentrate on anything. all i can think about is how much i miss him…how much i blame myself.”

“and i hate it,” he continued, his voice ragged with emotion. “i hate feeling like this. i hate feeling so weak and helpless. but i don’t know how to make it stop. i don’t know how to make it stop hurting so much.”

you watched as a tear slipped down his cheek, his shoulders shaking slightly with emotion. “i just…i just want it to stop hurting,” he whispered, his voice shaky with emotion. “i just want to feel normal again. i want to be able to sleep without seeing his face when i close my eyes. i want to be able to eat without feeling like i’m going to be sick. i want to be able to concentrate on something other than the guilt that’s eating me alive.”

he scrubbed a hand over his face, smearing away the tears that were now streaming down his cheeks. you couldn’t hold back any longer. you reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. he didn’t flinch or pull away; instead he leaned into your touch, like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.

his shoulders slumped as he leaned into you, all the tension and pretense finally melting away. he let out a ragged sigh, his body shaking with the weight of his emotions.

you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. he buried his face in your shoulder, his arms encircling your waist.

his body was shaking, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs. you could feel the wetness of his tears soaking through your shirt, but you didn’t care. all you cared about was being there for him, holding him together as he fell apart.

you held him there for what felt like hours, your arms encircling him, your fingers gently stroking his back.

“it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice soft and gentle. “just let it out. i’m here. i’m not going anywhere. just let it all out.”

he continued to sob into your shoulder, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. but slowly, slowly, he began to calm down. his sobs turned into ragged breaths, his shaking gradually stilling until he was simply slumped against you, his head resting on your shoulder.

your arms stayed wrapped around him, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his back. he sagged against you, his breath slowing and evening out. he didn’t speak, just held onto you like a child clutching a security blanket.

the sun continued to rise, the sky gradually turning a brighter shade of blue, but you barely even registered it. all you could focus on was the man in your arms. after what felt like an eternity, wooyoung finally stirred against you. he pulled back slightly, his head lifting from your shoulder. his eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks were tear-streaked.

he cleared his throat, his voice rough and hoarse. “sorry,” he mumbled, wiping away the remnants of tears on his cheeks. “i didn’t mean to fall apart on you like that again.”

you reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “you don’t have to apologize,” you replied softly. “i’m here for you, no matter what. you don’t have to hold it all in and pretend to be okay around me.”

he let out a shaky exhale, leaning into your touch as your fingers stroked gently through his hair. “i know,” he said quietly. “i just…i hate feeling like this. like i’m weak and pathetic.”

“you’re not weak,” you replied, your voice firm. “you’re human. you have feelings and emotions, and that doesn’t make you weak. it just makes you human.”

he was quiet for a moment, mulling over your words. then he let out a soft sigh, his body slumping as he leaned into you again. “i guess you’re right,”

“of course i’m right,” you replied with a small smile. “i’m always right.”

he let out a snort of laughter, the sound ragged but genuine. “yeah, yeah. don’t get too cocky now.”

part of you should have known that the glimpses of the old wooyoung were just that. glimpses. because as you walked past his bedroom in the middle of the night, the only light being the dimmed one from the kitchen, you could see that it didn’t matter how much he was going to let you in now — he was already too far gone

the sight that greeted you was familiar, but no less heartbreaking. wooyoung standing in the middle of of his room, swaying slightly on his feet. he was clearly drunk, a half-empty bottle of soju clutched in his hand.

he was staring off into space, his eyes glassy and unfocused. it was like he wasn’t really seeing anything, his mind lost in a haze of alcohol and whatever thoughts were swirling around in his head.

as you watched him, he stumbled slightly, leaning heavily against the wall. he raised the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig before letting out a ragged sigh. it was like he was on autopilot, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

you wanted to go to him, to pull the bottle from his hands and tell him that everything was going to be okay. but you knew it wouldn’t do any good. he was too far gone, too deep into his own self-destructive spiral.

instead, you just watched him in silence, your heart breaking as you saw him take another long swig from the bottle. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, knowing what was going to happen but powerless to stop it.

he stumbled over to the bed, falling onto it with a heavy thud. he laid there for a moment, his chest heaving as he breathed in ragged gasps. then he let out a bitter laugh, raising the bottle in a mock toast before taking another long drink.

it was like he was mocking himself, his own situation. like he was laughing at the fact that he had let things get this bad. but there was no joy or humor in the laughter, just desperation and pain.

he laid there on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he took ragged breaths. his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, but you knew he wasn’t really seeing anything. his mind was lost in a haze of alcohol and thoughts, trapped in a downward spiral that he didn’t know how to escape from.

he let out a ragged exhale, his body going limp as the alcohol finally started to take hold. his eyes fell shut, his face relaxing as he slumped deeper into the bed. it was like he was finally giving in to the numbness of alcohol, letting it wash over him and drag him down into unconsciousness.

you step into the room, moving quietly so as not to disturb wooyoung. he’s passed out, his body sprawled haphazardly on the bed. you step over to him, gently prying the empty bottle from his grasp and setting it aside. as you do so, you take a moment to look at him.

his face is slack in unconsciousness, his breathing slow and steady. he looks so much younger like this, so young and innocent. it’s like all the pain and turmoil have been smoothed away for the moment, leaving him looking almost peaceful.

you reach for a nearby blanket and gently pull it over him, tucking him in as if he were a child. you watch for a moment as he snuggles deeper into the blankets, a small smile tugging at your lips.

it’s funny, you think. sometimes he can be so stubborn and bullheaded, so resistant to any help or support you try to give him. but in moments like this, he’s just a scared and lost little boy.

you stir awake, the morning light filtering in through the window. you turn over, expecting to find an empty space beside you. instead, you find wooyoung there, curled up facing away from you.

you blink in surprise, for a moment not quite believing what you’re seeing. when did he get here? you don’t remember him coming in during the night, and you definitely didn’t wake up and feel him climb into bed.

you look at him for a moment as he sleeps peacefully, his body curved into a tight ball. he looks so different asleep, so peaceful and vulnerable. it’s like all the bravado and bluster he usually has is gone, replaced by a quiet vulnerability that is almost endearing.

as you watch him sleep, you can’t help but wonder what brought him to your bed. was it simply him seeking comfort in his sleep?

you reach out hesitantly, your hand hovering over his shoulder for a moment before gently resting on it. you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

he stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake up. he just shifts slightly, nuzzling deeper into the blankets as if seeking out your touch even in his sleep.

wooyoung shifts his body, turning over to face you. he let out a sleepy murmur as he scooted closer to you, his body pressed up against yours. you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin, his face mere inches from yours. he was so close that you could see the flutter of his eyelashes as he slept, the relaxed expression on his face.

he shifted again, his arm coming up to rest on your waist. he pulled himself closer, his body spooning against yours. it was an almost unconscious movement. you could feel his breath against your neck, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. he was so close that you could feel the brush of his hair against your skin, soft and silken.

you could smell the faint scent of his shampoo, a soft, woodsy fragrance that mixed with his natural scent. it was a comforting smell, familiar and soothing.

and once again, he shifted, his leg coming to rest against yours. his body was completely pressed against yours now, every inch of him in contact with you. it was like he was trying to fit himself completely against you, seeking out every bit of contact possible.

you could feel the weight of his arm around your waist, the warmth of his chest against your back. his breath continued to ghost over your neck, the steady rise and fall of his breaths sending a shiver down your spine. he made a soft noise again, a sigh of contentment that was somewhere between a murmur and a hum. he seemed completely at peace, his body relaxed and boneless against yours. it was like he had melted into you, fitting against you like he belonged there.

you were torn between waking him up and letting him sleep a little longer. on one hand, it was kind of adorable seeing him sleep so peacefully and soundly. on the other hand, you knew he needed to wake up eventually.

you watched him for a moment, taking in the sight of him curled up against you. his face was relaxed, his expression peaceful. it was like all the stress and worry that usually etched itself on his features had melted away.

part of you wanted to just lay there and watch him sleep indefinitely, but you knew that wasn't practical. you reached out a tentative hand and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his face. he stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again.

you watched as he mumbled something incoherent, his arm tightening around your waist. it was like he was trying to hold onto you even in his half-conscious state, unwilling to let go just yet.

he let out a murmur against your neck, his voice sleep-rough and soft. "just... a little longer," he mumbled. "just a few more minutes... please..."

he tugged at you slightly, pulling you closer against him. his body was still relaxed, his muscles loose and pliant against yours.

wooyoung’s voice was soft, almost vulnerable as he muttered against your neck. "i just... want to pretend a little longer," he mumbled. "just for a little while, let me pretend like everything is okay..."

he pulled you tighter against him, his body pressing close against yours like he was trying to bury himself in you. his grip was tight, like he was afraid you would pull away and break the illusion.

wooyoung’s voice was hushed and raw as he whispered against your skin, his breath hot against your neck. "like i didn't... f-fuck everything up, you know...?"

he let out a choked gasp, his arm tightening around you like he was trying to anchor himself. he was clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check, his body tense and trembling against yours.

his voice was rough and ragged, like he was holding back tears. "i just... i just don't want to think about it for a little while," he mumbled, his body pressing closer against yours. "just... please, let me pretend for a minute. let me pretend like i didn't ruin everything."

you didn't know what possessed you to do it. maybe it was the vulnerability in his voice, or the desperation in his grip on you. but before you even realized what you were doing, you were cupping his face gently in your hands and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

his breath hitched as your lips met his, his body going rigid for a moment before melting into the touch. it was like he was starving for the contact, like he was desperate for any scrap of affection and closeness he could get.

his mouth opened slightly under yours, his tongue brushing against your lips in a silent plea for more. he was shaking now, his body trembling against you like he was barely holding himself together.

he was clinging to you now, his fingers gripping your shirt desperately as he pulled you closer. his lips were moving against yours hungrily, like he was trying to devour you. it was like he was pouring all his pain and desperation into the kiss, seeking solace and comfort in the only way he knew how.

his body was pressed against yours, every inch of him in contact with you. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the desperate way his hands roamed over your body like he was trying to memorize every contour and curve.

as wooyoung breaks away from the kiss, his mouth trailing down your jaw to your neck, he mumbles between kisses, "is... is this okay? are we... are we okay...?"

his lips are hot against your skin, his breath hitching as he nibbles gently at the sensitive skin of your neck. his hands are still holding onto you tightly, his grip almost desperate as he seeks reassurance and connection.

he continues to trail kisses down your neck, his mouth hot and possessive against your skin. every kiss is filled with a hint of desperation, like he's trying to make up for lost time and assure himself that everything is alright.

his hands roam over your body as he kisses your neck, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as he mouths at your neck. you thread your fingers through the silky strands, relishing the feel of his soft hair against your skin.

"we’re okay," you murmur, your voice soft and reassuring. "it’s okay. we’re okay."

he lets out a choked moan against your skin, his body trembling at your words.

wooyoung’s voice is barely above a whisper as he buries his face in your neck, his lips pressed against your skin in desperate kisses.

"i just... i just want to pretend for today," he mumbles, his voice almost pleading. "just for today, let me pretend like everything is fine. let me pretend like i didn't screw everything up. just... just please, let me live in this fantasy for a little while longer."

he’s holding onto you tightly, like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go even for a moment. his body is pressed flush against yours, every inch of him in contact with you.

"please," he whispers. "please, just let me forget about everything else and just focus on you."

wooyoung pulls away from your neck, lifting his head to look at you. his expression is earnest and vulnerable, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or discomfort.

"if you don't want this," he whispers, his fingers tracing gentle patterns over your skin, "i won't be mad, okay? i promise."

you voice your concern, your gaze searching his face as you ask, "are you sure you're in the right mind to do this?"

he looks at you for a moment, his eyes intense and sincere. then he replies, "this is the only thing i’ve been sure about recently. you’re the only thing i’m sure about."

he continues to look at you, his eyes pleading and earnest. "i know i’m not making any sense right now," he whispers. "i know i’m not in the best headspace... but the only thing i am sure about is you. you’re the only thing that makes everything else fade away."

he grips your shoulders tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you even closer to him.

despite your reservations, your doubts and concerns, it's impossible to ignore the way your body responds to his touch. your pulse quickens, your skin heats up, your breath quickens.

but you know wooyoung well enough to know that he's not in his right mind right now. he’s vulnerable, desperate, seeking comfort and reassurance. and you know that you can't just give in to your own desires without making sure that he's absolutely certain about what he's doing. especially when your heart is also involved.

"i... i want you too," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

you reach up to cup his face in your hands, your fingers gently tracing his jawline. "i want you so badly," you murmur. "but i just... i need to make sure you're sure. i don't want you to regret it later."

you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles are coiled tight like he's holding himself back with every ounce of willpower he has left.

wooyoung’s eyes flutter shut for a moment as he melts into your touch, his breathing ragged and uneven. "i won't regret it," he whispers, his voice low and rough. "i could never regret it. not with you."

he leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours. he looks desperate, almost pleading. "please," he murmurs. "please, just... i need you. i need you more than anything right now."

his body is pressing flush against yours, every inch of him in contact with you. you can feel the heat radiating off him, can hear the raggedness of his breathing, can smell the faint scent of his cologne.

"i can't pretend anymore," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. "i don't want to pretend. I want this to be real. i want... i want you to be real. please. please just tell me this is real. that i’m not just imagining this."

his hands are grasping at you now, desperate and clawing, trying to hold onto you like you're the only thing grounding him to reality.

"please," he repeats, his voice ragged and hoarse. "please, tell me this is real. that you're really here, with me. that you really care about me. that you really... that you really..."

he seems unable to finish his sentence, his voice breaking on the last word.

"wooyoung..." you murmur, your voice soft and gentle. "this is real. i’m real. i’m here. i love you."

and with that, you lean in and press your lips against his in a slow, tender kiss.

his response is immediate, like a dam has broken inside of him. his hands come up to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kisses you back with a desperate fervor.

he kisses you like a man starved, like he's trying to devour you, his mouth bruising against yours as his tongue tangles with yours. his body is pressed tightly against yours, every inch of him desperate to be as close to you as possible.

he murmurs your name against your lips, like a prayer, like a desperate plea. "please," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "please, say it again. say it again."

he needs to hear the words again, like they're the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. he needs to hear you say that you love him, that this is real, that he's not just imagining everything.

you repeat the words, your voice soft and tender. "i love you," you murmur against his lips, your fingers tracing gentle patterns over his skin. "i’m here and i love you."

and his response is to groan, his body shuddering against yours as if the words are physically painful to hear. he kisses you again, harder and more desperately than before, his body arching into yours like he can't get close enough.

his hands are restless, roaming over your body with a feverish intensity. he pulls you closer, his body pressed so close against yours that you can feel the rapid beating of his heart.

"i love you," he whispers, his voice thick and ragged. "i love you so much. please, don't go. please, just... just don't leave me."

he sounds like he's begging, like he's on the verge of tears. he buries his face in your neck, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

"please," he whispers again, “stay with me. i don't want to be alone.”

you tighten your arms around him, your body pressing even closer against his. you speak softly, your voice gentle and reassuring.

"i’m not going anywhere," you murmur, your fingers carding through his hair. "i’m right here. i’m not leaving you."

his body visibly relaxes at your words, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. he lets out a shuddering sigh, his shoulders slumping as he buries his face in your neck once again.

he mumbles the words against your skin, "can... can i be selfish with you?" he whispers. "can i... can i just be selfish one more time? just... just tonight?"

you nod, your body still pressed tight against his as you murmur, "yes. it’s okay. we can be selfish. just... just for tonight."

he lets out a low, guttural groan at your words, his body shuddering against yours.

your mind swirled. was this really happening? were you really about to take this leap? his body pressed closer to you, the heat and firmness of him enveloping you as he gently held your face in his hands and brought your gaze to meet his. then, he drew you into another kiss, the soft, warm press of his lips against yours igniting sparks within you.

previous . . masterlist . . next

taglist @special4u @vampzity @jwone @devastateed @fantasy2wonderland @fixedonlove @kyeomooniee @e3ellie

#. . ᯓ . lover please stay ✦༉‧#ateez fic #jung wooyoung fic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez writing #ateez au #ateez ff #jung wooyoung writing #jung wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung angst #jung wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung ateez #ateez jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung

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noa-ciharu · 2 years

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Are you kidding me

#there's so much to unpack here where do i begin #i haven't even had a morning coffee #clamp #xxxholic #watanuki kimihiro #haruka doumeki #douwata #bc it is both douwatas

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nnato · 1 year

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#AAAAAAHHHHHHHH #head full but just screaming #like why. wHY?!?!!!!!!#there is so much to unpack here where do I even begin #husbands posting each other #norman nato #fe #formula e

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slayfics · 6 months

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Katsuki gets caught being sweet to you.

You started to finally catch your breath being at the top of the hiking trail Katsuki had dragged you out too.

"Alright there, it's just us up here so tell me already. What the hell has been going on?"

"That's why you brought me out here?" You asked.

"Just tell me already, stop being so damn stubborn." He pried you impatiently.

"I told you I'm fine Bakugo, just busy like everyone else." You replied.

"Don't give me that shit. Do you think I'm stupid? The other extras are too dense to notice but I can see how exhausted you've been this whole week. So just tell me- what's going on," He said.

"You didn't need to drag me out here on a hike in freezing weather to do this, you know," You said, slightly irritated at Katsuki continuing to push you.

"Ugh- will you stop stalling and talk already," He yelled, causing you to let out an annoyed sigh. Katsuki put his hands in his pockets and looked out at the view, his demeanor softening slightly. "You can talk to me, you know," he added, his voice lower and kinder than before.

You stayed looking at the view for a few more moments trying to figure out how to unpack everything that had been stressing you out. It wasn't like some big thing, but a summation of a bunch of little things that were beginning to become too challenging to manage.

A cold breeze blew by causing you to shiver. You wondered why Katsuki had insisted on bringing you up this mountain to talk to you. He could have pestered you in your dorm where it was warm.

Katsuki stole glances at you occasionally then focused back on the view not wanting to intimidate you too much from his glare. Hiking always helped him to clear his mind and gather his thoughts when they seemed too loud. He thought maybe it would help you too, and being away from all your classmates might make it easier for you to talk to him. At the very least it made it easier for Katsuki to be more vulnerable with you. He found it too daunting to express himself fully with all the attention of his classmates around. It was much easier being only in your company.

You took a deep breath, "I guess- it's just been hard to balance everything recently," You finally spoke, breaking the silence. Katsuki made it easy to open up to, as he had no problem sitting in silence for long extended periods. Others in your life felt the need to fill that silence with useless chatter which always prevented you from sitting in your emotions and being able to formulate them into words.

You took in another breath feeling a lump in your throat form. You hadn't wanted to talk to anyone about what was going on for fear of opening up the flood of emotions and not being able to stop. Now here it was. You didn't want to cry on this fucking hill.

Katsuki patiently waited while you gathered your thoughts.

"It's just been so much and I've been barely keeping up. It's- been getting to me recently. I've been forgetting things I shouldn't. Being unusually upset at things that aren't that big of a deal- and I just- it's dumb." You cut yourself off afraid to say anymore.

"It's not dumb. Don't hold that shit in, it's not healthy," He said encouraging you to keep talking.

You sighed, "I just... know that it could be way worse, and I've been through way worse so- I feel so irritated at myself. What I'm going through now isn't something I can't handle. I know that. So why do I feel so fucking exhausted with everything," You replied wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"Hmm," Katsuki grunted, processing what you said. "You know, it's ok to be tired, and- to not be perfect. You can't just deny yourself from feeling overwhelmed because it could be worse. If you're exhausted now then those feelings are real- and it's ok to have them," He spoke.

You looked down at the view watching the distant cars pass, "Thanks," You managed to say taking another deep breath.

"You shouldn't wait to handle them until they explode either. Trust me, I know what that's like," He said, causing you to let out a small giggle. "You're too damn hard on yourself you know that?"

You let out a full laugh, "Oh that's pretty good coming from you. You're the pro at having too high expectations for yourself," you laughed.

You and Katsuki were wrapped up in your conversation causing you not to notice approaching classmates in the distance. Mina and Eijiro had also decided to come up the hill after class and spotted both of you in the distance.

"That looks like we shouldn't interrupt," Eijiro said.

"Yeah," Mina agreed. "But maybe... we could get a little closer to make sure everything is ok?" She said, pulling Eijiro into the bushes to spy on you and Katsuki. Eijiro was highly against the plan but was unable to protest for fear of you two hearing.

"Yeah I know I have high expectations for myself... that's why I know what it fucking looks like when you're being too hard on yourself. So- tonight I'm coming to your dorm and, I'm making sure you get to bed at a reasonable fucking time."

Mina's eyes widened as she looked at Eijiro, "Coming to their dorm?!" She whispered, and Eijrio covered her mouth, silencing her.

"You mean Grandpa time at 9 p.m.?"

"Shut up! 9 p.m. is late as hell! You damn idiots just don't know how to have a good sleep schedule! Look I'm making sure you get some sleep and tomorrow I'm taking you out. So- figure out where you want to eat, I don't care where. And I'm not letting you say no you need a break," Katsuki replied.

"You don't have to do that Bakugo."

"Of course, I don't have to but, I want to. So just shut up and let me take care of you ok. You better not be afraid to order enough food this time either! I'm buying so- just get whatever you want, alright?"

"Ok ok," You laughed, feeling your mood brighten.

"Next time, just tell me when you're having a bad day or something. Stop making me drag it out of you. I- worry about you, you know? Now let's go back to the dorms. I see you shivering," He said, beginning to walk back down the hill.

Mina squirmed again under Eijiro's hand, keeping her silent. Her eyes said it all. She was in disbelief at Katsuki's words.

"Here," Katsuki said, holding his hand out and offering it to you. "I'll warm your hand with my quirk," he said.

You grabbed his hand interlacing your fingers with his.

"Don't dare say anything about how sweaty my hands are!" He barked.

You giggled, "How many times do I have to tell you I don't care Bakugo. It's part of your quirk, and your quirk is amazing you shouldn't be self-conscious about it. Besides, I'm always happy to hold your hand," You said as you two walked down the mountain.

"Tch whatever," Katsuki grumbled looking away from you as a small tint grew on his cheeks.

Finally, when you and Katsuki were far enough down the hill, Eijiro released Mina.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!?" Mina exclaimed.

"Shh shhh," Eijiro pleaded.

"WHAT- He wants to take care of them?!? OH MY GOD! They are totally dating right?! That's what he said he's taking them out to eat! And he's sneaking into their dorm! Wait wait- when they held hands it sounded like that had before! AND AND BAKUGO WAS TOTALLY BLUSHING! NO WAY!" Mina said looking like she might pass out from all this information.

"Ashido relax, we shouldn't have heard any of that!" Eijiro replied.

"Yeah but but-" Mina exclaimed, her head spinning. "Who knew Baklugo could actually be so sweet! I can't wait to tell Jiro-" She said, pulling out her phone.

"NO!" Eijiro said, grabbing her phone from her. "Uh- sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh but- you can't tell anyone what we heard ok?" Eijiro said.

"WHAT?! I just heard Bakugo being the sweetest boyfriend ever and you expect me not to say anything about that?!"

"YES!" Eijiro yelled. "Look they both like their privacy and there is a reason they were all the way up here talking, Ashido. I think we should keep this a secret and let them do things at their own pace ok?" He said, handing Mina back her phone.

"UGH-" She exclaimed letting out a big sigh. "I guess you're right... but wow who would have thought Bakugo could be a decent person much less a good boyfriend." She said.

Eijiro just shrugged at her words, "I don't know he's not a bad guy like you all make him out to be you know."

"Wait! You totally already knew didn't you!" Mina said, slapping Eijiro's shoulder.

"Hey! I mean- Bakugo is my best friend you know, so yeah I did..." He answered truthfully.

"You suck! Keeping secrets like that from me!" Mina said playfully, waving a finger at him.

"I'm sorry, but it's their business you know?" He said.

"Yeah I understand, guess we should go back to the dorms too now," Mina suggested.

"Yeah it is pretty cold up here, let's go." He agreed as they both started to walk down the hill. "I don't have Bakugo's quirk or anything but- if you're cold you can hold my hand too if you want," Eijiro suggested.

Mina's face tinted a darker pink as she reached out and grabbed Eijiro's hand.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries

Picture taken from @everypanelofkatsuki, thank you for all your hard work! Go check them out if you haven’t!

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moamidzyism · 5 months

Text

house warming (k.mg)

wc. 756

genre. smut

tags. minors dni! mingyu x fem!reader, established relationship, cockwarming

a/n. i have been writing this for like 9 months and i really wanted to make it longer but i just want to post it because mentally i can't complete it, maybe there'll be a part two (most likely not) but yay!!! cockwarming mingyu yasss

more of my work

you really should have planned better.

it was like everything that could possibly go wrong did. you imagined that by now you would be wrapped up in a large, cozy comforter nestled on your cloud soft king size bed in your already furnished new house. but the movers got the wrong date down, so now your house was bare save for the mess of cardboard boxes in every room and the lumpy air mattress in the middle of your lonely bedroom.

the room lacked the warmth you had hoped for, and the chilly air seeped through the gaps. and to make matters worse, you found out that your heater was broken, in the dead of winter.

it was too much to manage in one night, so you decided to unpack your closet and go to sleep. everything else was tomorrow’s problem.

but in the middle of the night, you stir awake, a kink in your neck reminding you of your less than ideal sleeping arrangement. you turn to the man lying beside you, who is restlessly moving around.

“what are you doing?” you groggily snap at him.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “”i’m just really cold.”

“there are extra blankets in the closet, i think.” you suggest, rolling over, trying to lull yourself back to sleep.

“i wanna feel you, baby.” he whispers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. you roll away from him, more focused on checking your phone, causing him to emit a low groan.

“no, baby, come back here.” he pleads, drawing out the last syllable of his sentence.

“mingyu, it’s two in the morning.” you retort, the harsh blue glow of your phone illuminating the room’s bare bones.

“i’m so cold,” he whines again, pulling the comforter over the two of you.

“baby, check in the closet for extra blankets.”

“but you’re so warm here,” he pulls you closer to him. he snuggles into your neck, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“god, we need to call a repair person to fix that stupid heater,” you groan when you think about everything that you need to do.

“we can do that in the morning,” he says, as he traces kisses along your jawline to your neck. “but in the meantime, we can keep each other warm.”

“mingyu, babe, i’m so tired, and the movers are coming at ten and we still have so much to do.”

“baby, baby,” he shushes you, wrapping you in his arms. “just relax.”

“i’m trying to go back to sleep.”

“please,” mingyu begs. “baby, it’s cold outside. i just want to feel your warmth.” you feel a shiver down your spine when he begins to nibble on your ear. “you don’t have to do anything, i just wanna be inside you.”

he slides your sweatpants down. slowly guiding his cock to your entrance, he rubs it up and down your slit. his tip pokes around your entrance and you push your hips back, encouraging him to enter into your tight cunt. his hands grip your hips tightly, his face screwing up in pleasure as he slowly pushes. you suck your breath as he bottoms out. “sorry,” he mumbles.

“it’s fine,” you sigh, melting into his embrace. mingyu, still mumbling sorries, moves around until he finally feels comfortable. when he does, his head returns to the nook of your neck. the two of you lie with your figures entwined, your limbs interwoven in an affectionate dance. your head rests against his chest, his heartbeat beneath you serving as a lullaby. his cold hands slide underneath your sweatshirt, and you clench around him.

“fuck,” he groans lowly and now it’s your turn to profusely apologize. “it’s fine, honey, just give me a moment to calm down.” you give him a moment before you place your hands on top of his arms where they rested at your waist. this was supposed to be an innocent moment – as innocent as it could be. it was supposed to be an opportunity to feel close to each other, but, as you’d expect with your boyfriend, innocence seemed to take a backseat to a different kind of intimacy.

slowly he rocks his hips against yours, prompting a soft moan to escape from your lips. “gyu,” you warn him slightly, but he ignores you, his hands slipping down to your hips to pull you closer to him. “what happened to “i just want to feel you”?”

“m sorry,” he moans out, “you know i can’t help it. you just feel so good.”

taglist: @dearlyjun

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#fay's works #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu smut

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vivwritesfics · 7 months

Text

Better Than He Ever Was - MV1

This gif makes me feral - I am on my KNEES

Y/N is pregnant and Max is sweating

Related works: Mini Me Prodigy

When Y/N Verstappen found out she was pregnant with Fabian, Max was terrified. He was utterly, utterly terrified.

He played it well, cheering and happy smiles when Y/N showed him the pregnancy test. To everybody on the outside, he was the overjoyed father to be, talking about Y/N and their baby on the way any chance he got.

There were very few people who saw beneath the facade Max was putting on. The first was Christian Horner, who himself was like a father to Max. The next was Charles Leclerc, who was way too excited at rhe prospect of being an uncle that he forgot he wouldn't actually be related to the baby.

Both said the same thing: that Max should talk to Y/N about it.

But where was he to begin? How did he tell her, after seeing how happy she was, that he wasn't ready to have a baby.

When she started showing? Oh boy.

It was never something Y/N wanted to keep hidden. As soon as she had all the tests she had taken come back positive, she posted something to all of her social media's. Max did, too, playing his part well.

Y/N didn't wear baggy clothes to hide her bump; she showed it off with pride. At every single grand prix she'd be standing beside her husband, hand over her stomach and the press took pictures of them.

Most husbands, when their wife's baby bump began showing, would be over the moon. But when Y/N started showing, it just made Max more fearful.

Y/Ns very first proper indication of the was when they were discussing baby names.

Any moment she got, Y/N was writing down potential names. She had at least twenty of each.

"How do you like Felix?" Y/N asked him as they watched a movie together. Max had been sim racing all day; this was the first proper moment she'd had to spend with him. "Or Daniel?"

"Daniel can be the middle name if it's a boy," Max said as he fed her a Malteaser.

Y/N moved over to her list of girls names. "If it's a girl, I liked Mila. Thought Mila Verstappen had a really nice ring to it."

Max just hummed.

It was two weeks after that Y/N finally sat him down.

"What's going on with you?" She asked, her hand resting on her bump. That morning her snack of choice had been stroopwafels, and she'd accidentally finished the entire box (but who could blame her? They're addictive).

"What do you mean?" Asked Max as he lifted the box to see what he was inside. Nothing, empty. He made a mental note to buy more.

A terrible, horrible feeling settled in Y/Ns stomach. "Please, Maxie," she placed her hand over his, rubbing her thumb over his wrist. "Tell me what's going on. I'm begging you!"

Max let out a huff. He hated himself. "I love you," he said, which definitely wasn't concerning. "I love you so much and I know how excited you are to have our baby, but I don't know if I can do it."

Her heart was beating so loud she was sure Max could hear it. "Wha-what are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I'm so fucking scared, Y/N. I'm terrified of being a dad. What if I raise our child like my dad raised me and the kid ends up like me? I'd never be able to forgive myself if that happened."

Oh. This wasn't a dire as Y/N thought it was. This was something she could deal with. "Come here," she said softly and tried to pull his chair closer. Max shuffled over. He let Y/N wrap her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you remember last summer, when we went on holiday with my sister and her kids? Do you remember how they loved you so much that they wouldn't leave you alone?"

They'd rented out a villa. Max and Y/N had just come back from their honeymoon when Y/N's sister had invited them away.

As soon as they had their things unpacked, the kids grabbed their uncle Max's hands and dragged him into the pool. "Let's race!" The oldest shouted. Max was more than happy to oblige. He raced them to the other side of the pool and back, letting them win, of course.

When Y/N and his sister started on lunch, Max was blowing up the inflatable pool toys and looking after the baby. He was a natural with all three of them. Y/N watched them out of the window as she buttered the bread and passed it to her sister. That was when she realised how wonderful of a father Max was going to be. That was when she realised she wanted to have his children.

By the end of the holiday, the children were obsessed with him. According to Y/N's sister they didn't stop talking about him until at least two weeks after the holiday.

Max nodded his head. At first he'd been secretly reluctant to entertain the kids. But he loved it, and he actually found it fun. Of course, it wouldn't be the same when it was his own child.

"You're going to be an amazing father, Max. You're so kind and caring and kids love you. Plus, you're aware of how shitty your dad was to you, you know what you have to differently," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I'll be there with you every step of the way," Y/N whispered and kissed the top of her head.

Max was still terrified, but he was trying not to be. But Y/N saw him change. He really did become that cheering and happy father he was pretending to be at the start.

Aside from Formula One, Max's life became getting Y/N whatever she and the baby were craving. Stroopwafels, mostly.

They discussed names more when Max became more comfortable. He was a big fan of Nora. Nora Sophie Verstappen. It had a very nice ring to it, Max thought. Little baby Nora.

They'd struggled to settle on a name for a boy. After Max had suggested his mothers name for the baby's middle name, Y/N was afraid Jos' name was going to be thrown into the mix. Not after all of Max's fears and anxiety. They'd decided Hugo, Hugo Verstappen was to be his name.

If it was up to Y/N, Jos wouldn't be in the child's life. But, of course, it wasn't just up to her. It was a decision she and Max had to make together.

When they found out they were having a little boy, Y/N and Max were over the moon. They decorated the nursery, painting the walls to be like a Formula One track. The bottom third was all grass, the middle was the track and the rest was blue skies with fluffy clouds.

The track went all the way around the room, with little race cars painted onto the track. There was a little Red Bull with a 33 on it, and a little Ferrari with a 16. It was a friend who painted it for them, going into intricate details for the cars and garages.

And then Y/N went into labour.

All of those fears Max had managed to get past came flooding back. His wife was about to give birth to his little boy.

Max wasn't much help through the delivery. Actually, through most of it he wasn't allowed in the delivery room, since he was panicking too much.

He wasn't a Hugo. That was what Y/N and Max decided the moment he was born. He was a Fabian. Fabian Hugo Verstappen. He was the most gorgeous little boy in the world. That was all Max could think as he stared at him, cradles in his wife's arms.

His son. His boy.

"Welcome to the world, Fabian Hugo Verstappen."

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scuderiahoney · 29 days

Text

Oscar Piastri x reader // in motion part 6

summary: a museum visit, one far too observant teammate, and the beginning of the end of hockey season. Word Count: 7.6k

warnings: alcohol/intoxication, moderately suggestive content (non graphic), mention of previous sport injury

The first night back from the trip, after you’ve eaten dinner and unpacked and started laundry, you get a text.

Oscar: miss you

You’d been laying in bed, but you sit up, suddenly much more awake. You send a text back, quickly. miss you too. Then, wanna come over? He likes the text, and then he goes quiet. You assume you know what that means.

A little while later, there’s a knock at your front door, and you slip through the apartment to open the door for him. He’s grinning on the other side, wearing the hoodie you gave him as a welcome gift months ago, hands buried in the cuffs of the sleeves. You step aside to let him in and then shut the door. Suddenly, it all feels real. It’s 8:00 at night and Oscar’s in your apartment, not to study or do homework but because he said he missed you and you invited him over.

“It’s not spring break anymore,” he says, then shrugs. “Well. It is, but we’re here. Not at the beach.”

You nod and lean back against the wall, facing him. “Mhm. Here we are.”

When he kisses you this time, he takes his time. It’s soft and sweet and so thorough, like he’s memorizing every movement, paying attention to your every reaction. Knowing Oscar, he probably is. His hands fall to your hips, and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him as he crowds you against the wall. You can smell his shampoo and his cologne and just a little bit of sea breeze left over on his clothes. When his hand slips up underneath your hoodie, you sigh, and he takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth.

It sends a blaze racing down your spine. You arch into him, and he takes, hungrily, hands splayed across your lower back and pulling you closer and closer. He breaks away, leaving you panting as he draws a line of kisses down your jaw and neck. Your chest heaves.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles against your collarbone. You gasp. “Mm. Sound pretty, too.”

You melt, then, because really, you can’t help it. He drags you away from the doorway and into the living room, like he knows the way better than you. He sits down on the couch and waits, like he’s wondering what you’ll do. His face is soft and open, flush high on his cheeks, tips of his ears turning red. He lets out a sigh when you plant yourself right in his lap.

“This isn’t why I came over, you know,” he says, brushing his lips against your temple. “I really did miss you. That’s all.”

“Missed you too,” you say, running your hands up the firm plane of his chest. “But I’ve wanted to do this for ages, too.”

He nods, moving his lips down the swell of your cheek. “Yeah. Me too.”

He leaves your place just after midnight, and you press your fingers to your kiss swollen lips, giggling to yourself. You almost feel bad, but he’d been insistent on staying, insistent on just one more kiss, insistent on just one more episode of the show that neither of you were actually watching, too busy with your hands on each other. He’s got practice at 8:00 am. He’s going to be exhausted.

You wonder if anyone notices the blush on his cheeks when you show up at practice the next morning, or if they just attribute it to the exercise he’s gotten. You have fresh banana bread, already cut up into slices. Sebastian eyes you warily when you pop into the bench area.

“You’re going to distract them,” he says, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall to chat.

“They haven’t even noticed I’m here yet,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Here, have some banana bread, you’re grumpy when you’re hungry.”

He rolls his eyes but takes the bread anyways, and you see the smile on his face even though he tries to hide it. Shortly after that, he lets them take a break. You think back to the practices early in the season, where Oscar acted like you didn’t exist. Now he’s one of the first ones to skate over, reaching out eagerly for a piece of banana bread.

“M’starving,” he says, pulling his helmet and facemask off. He takes a bite and grins. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You feel your face grow warm, because he’d said that exact same sentence just a few hours before under very different circumstances. You fight a giggle, and when he realizes it, so does he. Max and Lando come skating up just after that, hands outstretched towards the plate you’re holding, so you don’t have a chance to tease him about it, but that’s okay. It’s enough to be there, to talk with him while he leans over the wall, to watch the way he nods in understanding while Max offers him advice. He’s so in his element here. It makes you happy to see. You miss that feeling- of belonging, like this. They’ll tell you you’re a part of a team, but you’d always felt more at home on the field than at the rink, and there’s a part of you that wants it back more than you have in a while. You keep a smile plastered on your face and hope they don’t notice the way it slips when they head back out for practice.

…..

By the time family dinner rolls around on Sunday, Oscar’s been over to your place two more times- once again on Saturday afternoon between practices, and then Sunday morning when he brought over breakfast. It’s been nice- while he’s there, it feels good. But now, sitting around the table, you’re feeling a little uneasy.

Lando and Max tell you everything. You’ve heard far too much about their dates and love lives, you know all of their family drama, and yet here you are, Oscar’s hand on your knee under the table, and you haven’t even told them you’re seeing anyone. You haven’t told them you have a- can you call him your boyfriend? He said he didn’t want it to be a spring break thing, and it hasn’t been. It’s just that you haven’t really had a conversation about what this thing is, exactly, so you’re feeling a little untethered. You wouldn’t even know what to tell Lando and Max, at this point. Oscar squeezes your knee, and you zone back in, blinking at him.

“You alright?” he asks, voice quiet. “You were zoned out for a second.”

You nod and bite your lip. He doesn’t look convinced, but Carlos starts teasing him about something from down the table, and that seems to distract him enough. You push food around on your plate.

You’ve realized that there’s a chance that when Oscar said he didn’t want it to just be a spring break thing, he meant… he just wanted to keep hooking up. Maybe hooking up isn’t the right way to put it- it’s not like he just comes over to have sex and then leaves. He brings food and asks how your day was and cuddles on the couch to watch movies. You want more, though. You want to go out and do things and hold hands and talk about your feelings for each other. What if that’s not what he wants? You got so swept up in the excitement of it all that you forgot to ask, and now you’re feeling adrift about the whole thing.

You volunteer to do the dishes after dinner. The weather is starting to warm up, spring creeping in, and so the rest of the guys head outside to enjoy it, tossing around a football and drinking on the back porch. Lily comes in from work, and Alex hands her the plate of food he saved for her. They head outside. You sigh and watch them, feeling a little jealous. They make it look easy.

Suddenly, Oscar appears at your side, a dishtowel in hand. “I’ll dry, yeah?”

You swallow and nod. You wonder if he’d save you a plate if you were going to be late, or if he’d save you a seat. He was the one who asked if you should tell the guys. He wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t serious, right? You feel like you’re being pulled in a million directions. You have class tomorrow, back into the swing of things, and-

“Hey,” Oscar says, nudging his shoulder against yours. “You okay? You’re quiet.”

You shrug and nod, trying to think of something reassuring to say. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He tilts his head and takes a plate from your hands. “Something keeping you up late?”

You laugh. It sounds hollow, even to you. Oscar sets the plate down in the drying rack, and then he drops the towel, too. You feel wobbly, all of the sudden.

“No,” you say, carefully. “Just stressed about classes starting back up.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says, sighing. “You’re done with class at 4:00 tomorrow, right?”

You nod. He nods back. He’s going to ask to come over. The knot in your chest pulls taught. You want more than this.

“Cool. Can I pick you up at 5:00?” He asks.

Pick you up. That sounds different. That sounds… you set the sponge down on the edge of the sink and turn to look at him. He’s smiling, that look in his eyes that makes your heart melt.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“It’s a surprise,” he responds.

You wrinkle your nose and stare up at him. “Okay.”

“Don’t sound so excited.”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m trying to ask you on a date,” he says, and your heart stutters in your chest. “Like a real, actual date. Where we don’t have to sneak around.”

For a second , it feels just like that moment on the beach. This is nice. You feel silly for ever worrying about what he wanted from this. It’s Oscar. Of course he’d make it clear. You should’ve just asked.

You blink, the knot in your chest suddenly untwisting and untangling. “Oh. Wow. Yeah, that sounds really nice.”

He nods. You nod back, and then burst into a fit of giggles. He laughs, too, and brushes a kiss against your temple, because nobody is looking, too busy with the nice weather outside. You finish up the dishes, a lighter feeling in your chest, Oscar’s elbow bumping against yours as the two of you chat over the soap suds.

He knocks on your apartment door at 5:00 sharp, dressed in a nice button up and a pair of black jeans. You’d asked him what to wear, and it had involved a lot of pestering until he finally gave you some sort of idea. You’re in jeans, too, and a cute top- nothing too fancy, but better than what you’d normally throw on to hang out. You give him a giddy smile as you gather the last of your things.

“You look so pretty,” he says, quietly, in the entryway of your apartment.

“You look so handsome,” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. He reciprocates eagerly, his hands brushing hair behind your ears and then falling to your hips. You can feel the warmth of him seeping through your clothing. You have half the mind to drag him further into your apartment and let this lead wherever it might lead, but he pulls back.

“C’mon,” he says softly. “We’ve got plans.”

He takes your hand in his and knits your fingers together, squeezing gently, and then you’re off. There’s an Uber waiting for the two of you when you step outside- no wonder he was in a bit of a rush to get you downstairs. As you drive to wherever you’re off to, you realize this is the first time you’ll get to be in public with him without worrying about being seen by someone you know. For a while, you get to be together, full stop, no other obligations.

You nearly laugh when the car pulls up outside of the city’s science museum. It’s so unexpected, so out of left field, but it makes complete sense, really. It’s how you became friends in the first place, after all- bonding over science stress. It’s a fun activity, too. And there’s little to no chance any of his teammates will be there. It’s perfect.

You tell him as much as the two of you walk inside, and he smiles proudly, leaning to kiss your temple. He buys the tickets, even when you try and insist on paying for yourself, and he holds the door open for you like a true gentleman. And then the two of you are off to the races.

It’s easy, being with him like this. All your fears about ruining your friendship have vanished. They say that about relationships- that the good ones feel just like you’re with your best friend. It’s still early days, but it feels like a good sign.

He drags you to the dinosaur displays and tells you about how he wanted to be a paleontologist when he was a kid. You wander the halls hand in hand with him, reading about marine science and talking about the trip to the beach, and how much you both miss the ocean. You stop for a snack at the cafe and eat sandwiches and cookies under the giant whale skeleton that hangs from the ceiling in the main atrium. He presses his side against yours, and you let the warmth seep into your skin. He makes you feel so comfortable. The realization makes your chest hurt, makes you want to tug his face down to yours and kiss him, hard. He presses a quick, soft kiss to your lips, like he can read your mind. It’s enough to hold you over.

After you’re both done eating, he takes you up to the second floor, where there’s a little aquarium that has you both in awe. Next door, there’s a giant Newton’s Cradle that sends you both into a fit of laughter. It’s all physics jokes from there on out, talking about objects in motion and apples falling from trees and old scientists who thought they knew so much when they knew so little. You can relate. You feel like you’re learning new things every day- about him, and yourself, too.

He insists on paying extra to go to the planetarium, and refuses to let you pay for that, too. It’s late in the day now, and the two of you catch the last show. It’s half empty, so you pick two seats near the middle and get cozy. He holds your hand while the stars and planets swirl above your head. Tiny, insignificant specks in the grand scheme of it all, but his hand is warm in yours, and that feels bigger than anything else.

The two of you take the bus back to campus afterwards, happy to spend more time with each other rather than opting for a faster Uber. The bus stops right in the main heart of campus, and without even talking about it, you both head for the park. It’s just after sunset, the sky turning dark above your heads. It’s cloudy, but you pretend you can still see the constellations from the museum. You wander past the playground and the baseball fields, and you slow down when you reach the soccer field. Oscar squeezes your hand gently and lets you lead him out onto the grass.

“I think…” you start, voice faltering. “Fuck, I don’t wanna bring down the mood, I swear. But last week, when we were on the field…”

He leans close, his lips against your temple. “It felt good, right? To get back on the grass, to try it again?”

You nod. Your throat feels tight. “I can’t play. It’d wreck my knee. But I want to try something.”

He reaches up and cups your face in his hand. You feel that warmth again, the comfort, the safety. The feeling of knowing you can tell him this at the end of a date and he won’t judge you for it. He’ll understand. He wants to know.

“We’ll find you something, then,” he says quietly. “When I got back on the ice the first time…” he trails off, a smile crossing his face. “It’s a good feeling. We’ll find it for you.”

You lean in to kiss him this time, because you can’t help it, because you’ve wanted to all night. He kisses you back eagerly, hungry and frantic and full of so much care that it’s almost overwhelming. His hands fall to your hips to hold you steady. You go to deepens the kiss, and then-

Then, every sprinkler on the field goes off at exactly the same time, showering you with cold, cold water. You yelp and scramble to run away. Oscar follows, and he catches you when you slip slightly. The two of you are laughing your heads off even before you make it out of the spray. Once you’re safely on the sidewalk, he hunches over, breathing heavily. You do the same.

“That was so fucking cliche,” you say through the laugheter, shaking your head.

He nods, a grin stretched wide over his face. “The most cliche.”

You look down at yourself and your soaking wet clothes. A shiver wracks your body, and Oscar frowns. He pulls you under his arm and holds you close, already starting to walk.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you into some dry clothes.”

An hour later, you’re cuddled up on your couch with him. He’s wearing some of the clothes he’s left over on other nights, and you’re in your own sweatpants and one of his hoodies. He has you pulled into his chest, right where you feel like you belong. He’s warm under your cheek.

“It’s getting late,” he mumbles through a yawn. There’s a nature documentary playing on the TV. “I should probably head home if I’m gonna get any sleep.”

You hum and trace a pattern on his chest. “Okay.” You swallow and take a deep breath. “Or you could stay here.”

He hums. When you look up at him, he’s smiling. “I could, yeah. That sounds nice.”

It feels so oddly domestic, getting ready for bed with him. You find him a toothbrush in a package shoved to the back of your medicine cabinet & smile at each other through toothpaste foam. You slip out of the hoodie and into one of his shirts to go to sleep. It’s not the first time you’ve been in bed with him, but it’s the first time with this intention- of spending the whole night together, of cuddling up and sharing space like this. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close into his chest. Safe. Cared for. Warm.

You fall asleep before he even turns the bedside lamp off.

…..

You take the opportunity a couple days later, when nobody else is in the house, to tell Lando and Max. You’re sat in the living room, on the couch near the window, while they’re on the bigger couch, video game controllers in hand. When the race they’ve been bickering about ends with Max winning, you take a breath and clear your throat. They both turn to look at you.

You pull your legs up onto the seat of the couch. “I have to tell you guys something.”

“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Lando asks, eyes wide.

Max jabs him in the shoulder. “Be serious for two seconds, please.”

“A baby is a very serious thing,” Lando says.

“I’m not pregnant,” you interrupt, and you swear Lando looks disappointed. “I…”

You trail off. This shouldn’t be this hard. Lando looks confused, while Max’s gaze is soft and open. You sigh.

“You can tell us anything, Bunny,” Max says, squeezing your elbow lightly. “Promise.”

“I’m seeing someone,” you blurt. “And I- I’m not ready to really talk about it? But I don’t like keeping secrets from you guys, so. Yeah. I’m seeing someone.”

Max smiles. “You don’t owe us an explanation, you know,” he says.

“I know,” you mumble. “But I felt weird not telling you.”

Lando leans over and presses his hand over yours, squeezing softly. “I’m happy for you,” he says.

Max scoffs. “So am I. We both are. Not fair that he said it first.”

You roll your eyes. Lando does too. But there’s a weight on your shoulders that seems to be melting away, and you sink into the couch cushions. You should’ve known it’d be like this- they just want you to be happy, that’s all. You wonder if it’ll change when they find out who your boyfriend is. Across the room, Max stretches his arms above his head and sighs.

“He is a good guy, yes?” He asks. You nod, and he nods back. “That’s good enough for me. But make sure he knows if he fucks up he’s got a whole hockey team on the way to beat his ass.”

You choke on a laugh at that, because he already does know, and he’s a part of that team. Lando laughs, too, though he forces a serious face when Max huffs. The front door swings open before any of you can say anything else, and Charles comes in, followed closely by Oscar, who lights up at the sight of you, soft smile stretching across his lips.

“Hi,” Charles says, pausing to blink around the room. “Something is weird.”

Lando laughs. “Bunny has a boyfriend!”

If they notice the way Oscar’s face goes pink, nobody says anything.

That is, until later, when it’s just you and Oscar in the dining room, along with Charles. He’s stuck around longer than anyone else. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was deliberately trying to-

When you feel Oscar’s hand land on your thigh and hear Charles laugh under his breath at the same time, you look up. He’s grinning, mischief in his eyes, and you know that he knows. You blink at him, wide eyed, heart pounding.

“Don’t tell them,” you plead. Oscar makes a noise of confusion, but Charles starts to giggle. “Seriously, Charlie, please, you know how they’ll be-“

“I won’t tell them until you’re ready,” he reassures you, before directing his most menacing glare at Oscar. “But if you hurt her…”

“How did you even know?” Oscar asks, wide eyed. “We were being so careful.”

Charles laughs again, standing up from the table. He ruffles the hair atop both of your heads when he walks by. “You both wear your hearts on your sleeves. Also, your hand is on her thigh, Pastry.”

Oscar yanks his hand back like he’s been burned. You muffle a laugh into his shoulder as Charles walks away, finally leaving the two of you alone. Oscar groans softly when you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“We might have to hang out at your place more,” he mumbles against the top of your head. “Because I’d really like to kiss you, but he’s definitely waiting around the corner.”

You laugh, and then you laugh even harder when Charles pops his head back in at the sound, eyebrows raised. Oscar groans again, cheeks red. You head home soon after that, calling out your goodbyes, and Oscar meets you at your apartment a very unsuspicious 30 minutes later. It’ll work for now.

…..

The last home game is also the one that determines whether they make the second round of the playoffs. There’s a lot riding on those 60 minutes. As it creeps closer and closer, you can feel the nervous energy in the house, in the ice rink during practices, across the whole campus. Add on the fact that it’s senior night, and family night? It’s a recipe for stress.

“Do you want a ticket for the family suite?” Max asks one night, stirring pasta on the stovetop.

“Is Jos going to be there?” You ask.

Max rolls his eyes. “He is my family, so yes.”

“Then no,” you state.

Oscar is watching the conversation with wide eyes. Lando leans close to him and loudly whispers, “she doesn’t like his dad-“

“I gathered that, thanks, Lando,” Oscar hisses, brow quirked.

“He will be on his best behavior,” Max says, voice bordering on a whine. “Vic said she wants to see you.”

“I will make plans with Vic then, and your mother, too. We can get breakfast before the game,” you say with a shrug. “Or they can come sit with me. I’m sure Lily will be with Alex’s family, so it would be nice to have some company.”

Max groans. “You are so stubborn.”

“Your father is an asshole,” you reply.

“He called her a puck bunny last year,” Lando butts in.

Max whirls around to face you. “He did what?”

“Oh, so if he’s mean to me it matters?” You snark back at him. Max closes his eyes, but you know he’s rolling them. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, it won’t be the last. It’s literally my nickname.”

“It’s different when we say it,” Charles chimes in. “Max’s dad… he said it to be mean.”

“Did everyone else know about this?” Max asks.

You let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Max. It’s fine. Just another reason for me to not like him. I’ll text Vic and see if they want to sit with me, otherwise we’ll make plans to meet up.”

Max seems generally unhappy with the whole situation, but he lets it go. You take the lull in conversation to head into the living room. You’re not surprised when Oscar follows a few minutes later. You’re in your normal spot in the loveseat near the window, and he takes his seat at the opposite end. Sitting here makes you think back to that morning, the snow day, when he’d pulled you in close and held you until you fell back asleep. Really, you should’ve known how he felt then, just from the way he wrapped himself around you. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile at him. He grins back. They could call you a puck bunny all they want, really- you think Oscar would be worth it.

You walk from your apartment over to the guys’ house the morning of the game, where Max is making breakfast for everyone. You bring more banana bread, because it went over well the last time, and Oscar helps you cut it up and distribute it with a soft smile and a stolen kiss to your temple. You haven’t been able to spend nearly as much time with him as you’d like in the past week. You’ve had classwork, and he’s had extra practices.

He still manages to find a second to steal you away. You come out of Lando’s room on the second floor, having been searching for the hoodie you’d lost, and suddenly there’s a hand on your wrist, pulling you along. You slap your other hand over your mouth to muffle your giggles. He drags you into his bedroom and shuts the door, quickly but quietly. You let out a squeak against his lips when he crowds you up against the back of the door.

“We do not have time for this,” you mumble when he brushes a kiss against your jaw. “You have- fuck!- you have like 20 minutes to get ready. They’re gonna come upstairs soon-“

His hand cups your jaw gently, thumb pressing into your face, and you start to melt. “Needed a good luck kiss.”

You can’t really find it in yourself to argue with that. The thing is, a good luck kiss should be a quick peck, or a kiss on the cheek or forehead even. What he gets, what you get, is a full on makeout session against the bedroom door. His hands are everywhere, his tongue is hot against yours, and you’re falling apart at the seams. Every part of you he touches lights up like a wildfire. You wonder if he feels that, too.

He pulls your lip between his teeth and tugs, and you knit your fingers in his hair. Out in the hallway, there’s a thud, and you both break apart, looks of terror on your faces.

“Oscar?” Charles calls out, and you sigh and roll your eyes. “Have you seen Bunny?”

Oscar rolls his eyes, too, and pulls you away from the door just slightly to open it and stick his head out. He nods at you, and you slip out from between him and the door, trying to discreetly fix your hair.

Charles rolls his eyes and hisses, “Max is looking for you. You are lucky he asked me first.”

You reach back with one hand and find Oscar’s, squeezing lightly before you step out of the room. Looks like your time is up. He squeezes back, and you have to fight a strong urge to ignore Charles and Max and the threat of her asking more people where you are and just head right back into Oscar’s bedroom. A good luck kiss is one thing, but you could do so much better, really.

Charles seems to catch on, and he fixes you with an unamused stare. “He is going to ask Lando next, and they will come looking, you and I both know it.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” you whine, letting go of Oscar’s hand. “It was just a little good luck kiss. Come on, Charlie, don’t you wanna win?”

“Are you going to give us all good luck kisses?” He asks.

You turn back and find Charles staring at you with disapproval on his face. Behind him, Oscar is standing in the doorway, cheeks red, lips puffy and pink. God, you want him so bad. You’ll want him even more after the game, you just know it.

“No,” you say, and watch the grin that takes over Oscar’s whole face. “Just my favorite player.”

When you come down the stairs, you nearly scream in excitement, because you spot Max’s mom and sister in the kitchen, unloading groceries onto the countertops. You rush over, and his mom is already holding her arms out wide to wrap you up in a hug. You do the same with Victoria next.

“Oh, I’ve missed you both,” you mumble, pulling away to smile widely at both of them. “You are my favorite Dutch people.”

Max makes an offended noise. “I am right here. I feed you dinner every Sunday. I took care of you-“

“Yes, but you also annoy me to death,” you say. He rolls his eyes.

“You are my favorite Timberwolf,” Sophie says to you, and you grin and stick your tongue out at Max.

“I am very offended,” Max says dryly. “No pancakes for any of you.”

You pout. Victoria joins in. Max sighs and starts plating them up for both of you, despite what he said just seconds ago. You take them into the dining room, where you all sit down. The rest of the team members are floating in and out, grabbing food and going to get ready, half dressed in their game day suits. Lando appears, clad in a white button up and a pair of gray sweatpants, and greets both Max’s sister and mom. Charles does the same. Oscar appears and hovers in the doorway.

“Oh, Oscar,” you call out, waving him in. He smiles sheepishly. “This is Max’s mom, Sophie, and his sister Victoria.”

Oscar smiles and shakes both of their hands before sitting down at the table next to you. He’s mostly dressed, just missing his jacket. You try not to focus on how good he looks.

“Nice to meet you both,” he says. “You raised a wonderful son.”

“Except for when he’s being annoying,” you grumble.

Victoria snorts. “A wonderful son, but an annoying brother, huh?”

“I can hear you,” Max calls out from his spot where he’s cleaning up the kitchen. “Oscar is my new favorite!”

Sophie watches all of it with an amused smile. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Oscar. And seen you play. You’re quite wonderful yourself.”

Oscar’s cheeks flush. You grin and hide it behind your glass of orange juice. “Oh. Thanks.”

He doesn’t take compliments easliy, you’ve noticed- he gets bashful and shy afterwards. You nudge your knee against his under the table, and a little bit of the tension drains from his shoulders. You love that you can be that for him- a little bit of a steadying presence- because he’s the same for you.

“We are leaving in five minutes!” Charles calls from the living room. “Be on time or you will be doing push ups!”

Max breezes through the dining room, dropping a plate full of various breakfast foods on the table. “Here, this is what’s left. Piastri, where’s your jacket?”

Oscar groans and stands up, already headed for the stairs. “See you later, Bunny! Nice meeting you guys!”

“Good luck!” You call after him.

When they leave, the house falls silent. You catch up with Sophie and Victoria, sitting in the dining area in the pale morning light. Outside, you can hear the parties already starting, the crowds forming. The whole town is buzzing about the game, and you’re not immune to it. The three of you make your way to the rink not long after they leave, because it’ll take a while to make your way through the crowds anyways.

“So,” Victoria says, nudging your shoulder as you pass a house decked out in Timberwolves decor. “Max tells us you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“He’s such a gossip,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “Yeah. I do. It’s kind of… new.”

“It’s someone on the team, isn’t it?” She asks, keeping her voice low. Her mother is distracted by a booth some kids have set up, selling lemonade. “That’s why you haven’t told him who it is?”

You blink back at her, hoping your face stays calm. “No, that’s not why. Just. Taking things slow.”

“Mm. I see,” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Well. Whoever he is, he’s a good guy, right?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling just at the thought of Oscar. “He’s the best.”

“That’s all that matters, then, no?” She says. You nod. “And I’m sure when you do tell him, Max will be happy for you.”

“Yeah,” you agree. Then, in your head, you add, I hope so.

Max’s mom leaves the two of you near the entrance to go walk out onto the ice with Max and the rest of the seniors for the honor ceremony- named read and flowers handed out. It’s sure to make you cry. Lando’s family is here somewhere, too- you’ll have to find them before they head out, make sure you give them all hugs. But for now, you and Victoria head up to the seats you usually sit in. You’d managed to get the seat next to them for Sophie, too, which is a relief.

They introduce all the seniors, and Victoria hands you a tissue from her purse when you start to sniffle. Max and Lando are out on the ice, their parents next to them, and it makes your chest ache. Then there’s Carlos, with his mom and his dad- who looks at home on the ice as always, and Charles, who stands proudly next to his mother. You muffle your cries into your sleeve. It’s hitting you now- the end of the season is creeping closer, and with it, the end of the year, and graduation, and-

Before you can get too sad, they leave the ice, and the pre game music starts up, and so does the warmup. You spot Oscar out on the ice, carving graceful circles as Lando does the same in a mirror image. You wipe the last of your tears away just before Max’s mom finds you and Victoria in the stands. She must be able to tell you’ve been crying, anyways, because she squeezes your hand and doesn’t let go until the puck drops.

…..

After the game- a close one, but a win, and they’re through to the second round of playoffs- you hug Sophie and Victoria goodbye and head back to the house to prep for the party. The place fills up before the guys even get back from the rink. You weave your way through throngs of people to get a drink, then shove your way back into the living room just in time to see the team come in through the front doors. Max spots you and wraps you up in an enthusiastic hug while Lando ruffles your hair.

“We get one more game,” Max says, loud, close to your ear.

“One game at a time,” you yell back.

Carlos hands you each a shot. You try and pretend you’re not searching the crowd for Oscar. He’s likely making drinks with Alex, or chatting with Logan on the back steps, or something in between. You’ll find him eventually.

An hour in, still missing your boyfriend, you turn around and come face to face with Lando, who has a paper towel pressed to the bridge of his nose. Next to him, Charles looks panicked. Max is trailing along behind them, a hand pressed over his own mouth, amusement clear from the crinkle of his eyes. Lando looks dazed and a little confused. When he gets closer, you notice a spot of what looks like blood on his light blue hoodie.

“What did you do?” You ask as he grins at you.

“He walked into the sliding door,” Charles sighs.

“And then tried to fight the door,” Max adds.

“I was attacked,” Lando whines, pouting. “By an invisible force field.

“Oh my god,” you mumble. You reach out and pull the paper towel away, and wince at the blood streaking his skin. “Okay. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You nearly walk straight into Oscar’s chest when you make it to the upstairs bathroom. He takes in the sight in front of him with a confused smile- you, leading the way, Lando, giggling while his eyes water, Charles’ worry and Max’s entertainment. Oscar blinks and turns to you.

“Lando got into a fight with the sliding door,” you say, waving a hand. “And lost. D’you have bandaids?”

It’s only once all of you are crammed into the bathroom that you realize the mistake you’ve made. Lando’s on the counter, legs swinging. Max stands nearby, phone out and ready to take pictures for posterity’s sake. Oscar’s rummaging around under the sink, trying to find the first aid kit, while you clean the blood off Lando’s face. And it’s fine- the bathroom is pretty big, all things considered, and they’re mostly being well behaved. Until.

“Hey, Bunny,” Lando says, through a stream of giggles. “We should call your boyfriend.”

You blink back at him. Under the sink, you hear Oscar bump his head and let out a soft noise. Nobody else seems to notice.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you murmur.

“Is this going to be a problem for him?” Max asks, suddenly defensive. “Is he so possessive that you cannot help your friend when he is in need? He has such a small di-“

You scoff. “Definitely not.” Behind you, Charles laughs. “It's almost 2am. And that’s not a good time to call anyone.”

Max sighs, leaning his head against the wall, suddenly leaning into the dramatics of it all. “When will we get to meet him?”

“When I’m ready,” you shrug.

Oscar finally pulls himself out from under the sink. His face is flushed, but the guys will probably attribute it to the alcohol. He has a package of bandaids in his hand- thankfully, the normal kind, or otherwise you’re a bit nervous Lando would’ve refused. You swipe away the last bits of blood from his face, and hold your hand out for one of the bandaids. Max watches, arms crossed over his chest.

“If he was not scared of us, he would be here now,” Max says.

Oscar hands Lando a glass of water, and you nearly laugh at the absurdity of it. He is here. They’re so blind. You exchange a look with Oscar in the mirror. He’s smiling, just barely containing it, cheeks pink. God, you want to kiss him.

“Well, Mr. Norris, I think you’ll live,” you declare, patting his shoulder.

He hums as he pushes himself off the counter. “Perfect. Thanks, Bunny. Need a shot. Coming?”

“I’m gonna clean up in here and then I’ll be down,” you say, suddenly realizing what he said as he slips through the door. “You do not need more shots!”

Max groans. “I’ll go after him.”

Charles isn’t far behind, and he shuts the door after him. You throw the last of the towels and wrappers in the trash and turn, finding Oscar, leaning against the counter. He’s not blocking the way out. He’s left you an escape, if you want it, like you’d ever want to get away from him. You grin and take a step towards him.

“Hi,” you murmur, hands hanging at your sides. “I was looking for you.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling at the edges. “I was looking for you. Bet we were just walking in circles following each other.”

“How silly of us,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He reaches out and hooks his fingers in the belt loops of your jeans. You let out a squeak when he tugs you close. “We don’t have much time.”

You grin back at him, leaning close to whisper in his ear. “Congrats on making the playoffs, babe,” you say, darting a kiss just below his earlobe. “M’so proud of you.”

You pull away just a second later and find his cheeks pink, eyes half lidded. He groans, shaking his head, and you muffle a giggle behind one of your hands. He grabs your hips and squeezes, his hands warm even through all the fabric. You want him, but you’re bound to get caught if you stay here any longer.

“See you downstairs?” You suggest, kissing his cheek before you pull away fully and head for the door. “I’ll grab you a drink while you calm down.”

He nods, chewing on his lower lip. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

You nod, biting your own lip as you reach for the doorknob. “But you like it.”

You look back one last time before you shut the door. He’s grinning right back at you, as if to say yeah, I do. Your chest squeezes fiercely.

He joins you downstairs ten minutes later, cheeks still flushed, eyes still tracing every inch of your face. The rest of your friends are drunk enough not to notice the way he stares, or the way you share your drinks with each other, or the way he’s the first to volunteer to walk you home when most of the people are gone and everyone’s lazing around in the living room between all the empty cans and bottles. You wait until you’re out of sight of the house before you take his hand in yours. He grins and presses a messy, tipsy kiss to your temple. You like moments like these, where you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing. Where you can just be the two of you. You and your boyfriend, who’s a hockey player through to the second round of playoffs-

You stop in your tracks. “We can’t tell them.”

Oscar stops, too, brows furrowed. “Well, we said we should wait, but if you want to tell them now then- baby, they’re your best friends, you deserve to tell them, and whatever they say-“

“No,” you say, though you’re endeared by his reaction, chest warm. “No, we can’t tell them until after the playoffs. Nothing changes during playoffs. No shaving, no haircuts, and definitely no relationship reveals.”

Oscar’s shoulders sag. “You really think I’m gonna stop shaving? It’s all…” he waves his hand. “Superstition.”

“Oscar!” You squeak out, eyes wide. “Of course you’re gonna stop shaving. You have to! It’s- if you shave, then-“

“Then what?” He asks, eyes full of mirth. You gape at him, unable to find the words, or more so, unwilling. “Oh my god, you can’t even say it, can you? You’re that superstitious, that you won’t even say the word los-“

You reach out and slap your hand over his mouth. “Oscar!”

He giggles against your palm. You glare daggers at him. He bites at one of your fingers, gently, and you yank your hand back.

“M’joking, baby. Promise. We’ll wait to tell them, and I won’t shave, or cut my hair, or do anything that might change the results,” he promises.

Your shoulders drop in relief. He looks at you with what you swear are stars in his eyes. He’s so fond it makes you melt. You’re not sure if you were just blind to it, all those months ago, or if it’s just gotten more plain to see since you both confessed your feelings. He wraps his hand in yours again and starts walking you down the street.

“You know,” he starts, squeezing his fingers around yours. “Some players do sex bans during the playoffs. They say it helps their game.”

You chew on your lower lip. You’ll support him, if that’s what he needs, but. But. You want him, now, already, and- You turn to look at him. He’s laughing, muffling it behind his free hand. You roll your eyes and elbow him, and he does the same back.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his lips against your temple when he says it. “I couldn’t stay away from you if I tried.”

You spot a bit of your lipstick stuck to his skin, beneath his ear, right where you kissed him earlier. You wonder if anyone noticed- probably not, the lights were too low in the house to even see it. You find you’re not worried either way- you like to leave your mark on him. In all the secrecy, it’s a reminder that he really is yours, and you get to be his, too.

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7ndipity · 8 months

Text

“You Broke Me”

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Just clingy, fluffy Yoongi after Reader comes home after a month-long trip

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Suggestive, Swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I got a little carried away with this one, so it is just nothing but tooth-rotting fluff. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You weren’t surprised when Yoongi insisted on picking you up at the airport, even though you told him that he didn’t have to, that you could just get a cab home so he wouldn’t have to risk being spotted, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He’d been telling you for days that waiting at home would have driven him crazy and that he wanted to see you as soon as possible.

In previous relationships, Yoongi had never really considered himself to be the needy type, but something about you had changed him drastically in that department. Now, he didn’t care if it made him sound melodramatic, the last three weeks without you while you were overseas visiting family had been absolute hell for Yoongi.

Later, as you walked through the terminal, it was easy for you to spot him. Even with the bucket hat and mask hiding his face, you could’ve recognized him anywhere, eyes scrunching up in a smile as he watched your steps begin to pick up speed until you were practically running to him.

As soon as you were close enough, he pulled you into a crushing hug, an audible sigh leaving him as he hooked his arms tightly around you.

“Hi.” You giggled.

“Hey.” He said, burying his face in your neck.

You let yourself relax into his hold, closing your eyes in contentment. After having gone nearly a month without his touch, the warmth of his body against yours felt like absolute heaven.

Eventually, you started to pull away in order to see his face, but he tightened his grip to keep you where you were instead. “Just a little more.” He muttered.

You chuckled. “Yoongi, people are looking.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He grumbled, squeezing you more to prove his point.

After another long moment, he finally released his hold on you, pulling back just enough to cup your face, his eyes dancing with happiness as they met yours.

“Ready to go home?” He grinned.

“So ready.”

He quickly helped you wrangle all your luggage together before heading to the car, making sure to keep one hand free in order to hold yours as you walked.

On the ride home, you talked about your flight and the trip, his hand never leaving yours for more than a few seconds, letting them rest together on the center console.

Once you got home, he quickly set your bags down by the door before turning and dragging you to the sofa, pulling you down so that you were straddling him.

“What are you doing?!” You squealed.

“Catching up.” He said simply, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I have been neglected for an entire month, it’s a miracle I haven’t shriveled up and died.”

“We talked literally everyday.” You pointed out.

“ ‘s not the same, and you know it.” He groaned, letting his lips drag along your jaw before returning to yours, silencing any further potential argument or teasing.

Although Yoongi was normally quite physically affectionate with you, you weren’t used to Yoongi being this needy and insistent, though you weren’t complaining by any means, following his lead as he turned his head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss, your fingers having slipped into his hair and giving a slight pull, earning a pleased sound from him.

At this moment, however, your stomach decided to announce itself, much to your embarrassment and Yoongi’s amusement, earning you one of his breathy laughs as you separated.

“Have you eaten?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Not since this morning.”

“Aish, no wonder your stomach’s complaining.” He said, sitting up more and rummaging for his phone. “Here, I’ll order us some food and then help you unpack.”

“You don’t have to do that, I can do it myself.” You said.

“Humour me, would you?” He frowned at you, making you laugh this time.

The two of you made quick work of unpacking your suitcases, chucking clothes into the wash and putting the rest of your things back into their usual places around the house.

As you were unpacking the last bag, he came over and wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind as you continued.

“Are you okay?” You finally asked, still thrown by his uncharacteristic clinginess.

“Mmm, just missed you.” He mumbled, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yeah?” You said, glancing back at him, biting back a grin as you took in the positively love drunk expression on his face.

“Mhm, so much.” He hummed, burying his face in your neck as he spoke. “Turns out I can’t sleep without you.”

“Oh no.” You cooed, turning around in his hold to cup his face.

“Yep, I think you broke me.” He pouted, making you chuckle.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’ve broke me too. Here.” You held out a dark grey hoodie that had been tucked at the bottom of the case.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for that!” He exclaimed, snatching it and looking at you in disbelief. “You little thief!”

“It smelled like you.” You explained quietly, avoiding his gaze as you felt your face heat up self consciously.

You were expecting one of his usual teasing remarks, what you received instead, however, was him tackling you to the bed, pressing more kisses to your face and neck.

“You’re really fucking cute, you know that?” He said. “I can’t fucking stand it.”

The fact that you had stole one of his hoodies should’ve annoyed him, normally it would’ve, but in the moment all he was thinking was that it showed how you had missed him, and knew that your were going to miss him, making his own longing for you seem justified, even though it didn’t need to be.

“I love you, so much.” He said, slightly out of breath as he stared down at you.

“I love you too.” You replied, smiling up at him.

“Promise you’ll never leave me for that long again?”

“I promise.” You swore, kissing his nose and making him chuckle.

Just then, the doorbell rang, making you both jump slightly in surprise.

“That’s probably the food.” You reminded him.

He let his head droop down against your chest, letting out a low whine. “I wasn’t done yet.”

“We have all night.” You giggled, patting his head gently before nudging him to get up.

You had all the time in the world.

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scarrletmoon · 8 months

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okay i know the Discourse™️ has been going on for way too long at this point, but

i think some people outside of the OFMD fandom don’t actually get why we’re particularly annoying about this show

OFMD is not the first queer show to ever exist. if anything, it's a late entry in decades of queer media. over a year and a half since the first few episodes aired, everyone knows that OFMD is queer. that doesn't make it particularly special

but back in March? this is the trailer that dropped in February of 2022, 2 weeks before the premier. if you're used to seeing queer chemistry in shows that aren't intended to be queer, you might see the hints between Ed and Stede here. but to most people? it's just a silly little pirate comedy. just guys being dudes. the trailer doesn't even hint at the other 2 canonical queer relationships in the show -- the closest it gets suggesting romance is the music and the pink in the poster

so when people watched this show in March 2022, they went into it expecting subtext and nothing else. to them, it was like watching Sherlock or Supernatural or Merlin in the 2010s. if you were in any of those fandoms -- especially Sherlock and Supernatural -- you know what it was like; constant jokes at our expense, being mocked for creating explicit fanwork, made fun of by the creators and within the show itself. if we saw queer subtext, that was our problem. this was a time when you pretended NOT to be in fandom, for fear of ridicule. we kept our fanwork to ourselves, we DID NOT share it with the cast, and we accepted that our favourite ships would probably never be canon. maybe one day, if we were lucky, we'd have a show where the subtext wasn't mockery as much as deliberate foreshadowing -- but that had to be YEARS away

right?

OFMD was never billed as a queer show, not in the beginning. there was no LGBTQ+ tag on (HBO) Max, it wasn't on anyone's list of upcoming queer shows in 2022, it flew under the radar through most of its first season. this was a show about pirates, and sure, some of them were queer. but not the LEADS. if you think they're romantically involved, that's must be fandom brain poisoning

except the 9th episode aired, and they kissed. and the show said "you're not crazy for thinking they have chemistry because they really do. it's been a romance this whole time". and in the 10th episode, Stede realizes that he's in love

(not mandating you watch this clip if you don't care for the show, but there's something that feels particularly earth shattering about no one saying the word gay but knowing that Stede's realizing he is, that it's completely unambiguous and explicit in a way that only straight romances are usually allowed to be)

this is why people freaked out about this show. no one knew. even the creator, David Jenkins, was surprised when WE were surprised that it was gay for real -- he set out to write a love story, using all the tried and true beats of a rom com. he'd never even heard of the term queerbaiting. he looked at historical Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet and thought "oh, there's something here" and just...wrote that, with very little fanfare, like it was inevitable. like it was obvious. of course Jim and Pam end up together. of course Buttercup and Westley end up together. what kind of disappointing ending would it be if You've Got Mail ended with the main characters just going their separate ways?

so of course Ed and Stede are in love

look, i get it. we're annoying and won't shut the fuck up about this show that seems mediocre at best. i watched the whole thing back in march, thought "huh, that was cool" and was sure that i'd forget about it in a few days

an hour after looking at fanart on twitter, i was lost in the fucking sauce

there's just so much to unpack from a mere 10 episodes. it covers racism, toxic masculinity, gender expression, sexuality, trauma and abuse. and i don't think we should overlook the fact that the non-white characters in this show get to be fully human in a way i haven't seen in my favourite shows in recent memory

additionally, most OFMD are 25 or older. we're not people who've been spoiled by queer rep, who don't get how hard it used to be, how you'd have to grovel for scraps, how shipping and fanfiction was a way to find queer rep where we thought there never would be. we've been here. we're annoying about this show because for a lot of us, it's the first time we've been treated like our queerness isn't an anomaly that needs to be relegated to its own section, that needs to be praised for the bare minimum of acknowledging that we exist. it's not pulling punches to avoid scaring away a straight audience. it just is.

OFMD for me is like when i watched Black Panther for the first time and realized that this is what white people felt all the time. have there been other black superhero movies? of course! does Disney fucking suck? BOY does it. but that was the first time i got to sit in a movie theater and watch a mainstream film that looked at Africa and said "look at how beautiful you are, exactly as you are"

and idk. i think that's really cool

#scarrlet rambles #ofmd #cant wait for all 5 notes on this post #and dont be fucking mean i'm not trying to start shit #anon is off btw if you want to try that #we're going to have a productive conversation or none at all we're adults here #for some reason tumblr didn't save my links and stuff THANKS TUMBLR #anyway the typo version is floating around now i guess 🥲

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thatsdemko · 4 months

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my valentine - o.piastri

masterlist | pairing: Oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: a red lacy Valentine’s Day seems to be just the kind of thing Oscar needs…

warnings: not intended for minors + oral (f receiving) + talks of Valentine’s Day + some errors here or there

a/n: I’m baaaack! while I know this isn’t the part two to the secret Santa that’ll hopefully be here soon I’m having some trouble writing that rn… but please enjoy this!!!

what did men like on Valentine’s Day? was it lace? was it red? or was it just sex? you couldn’t decide the answer. while you stood dumbfounded and dripping in nervous sweat inside the Victoria secret, it left you no choice but to leave and hope scrolling on Amazon wouldn’t lead to the same amount of panic and overwhelm.

you’d wanted to make Valentine’s Day perfect for Oscar. with all of his training and simulator work he’s been doing this winter break, you figured he deserved something special. you perused store upon store for the ideal lingerie for that special Wednesday night, but came up with nothing.

“you’re back from the mall awfully early.” Oscar comments hearing his apartment door shut behind you.

“really? felt like I was there for ages.” you huff out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down on the couch, “if you were wanting something for Valentine’s Day, what would it be?” you ask staring into his big brown eyes.

a laugh escapes his lips. he’s told you infinite amount of times he wanted nothing for the silly hallmark day. he just wanted a nice meal and some quiet time with you. what more could a man ask for? it was a door you never wanted to open, but you knew there was more to it.

“please don’t buy me anything—“

“oh no it’s not like that.” you cut him off, the heat returns to your cheeks when he looks over at you with a knowing look. you sink further into the couch cushions hoping to disappear, but his eyes stay glued to your growing redness.

“well then I guess I’ve always liked the color red on you.”

—

the red lace underneath your pajamas is uncomfortable. you’re unsure how anyone woman could deal with the deep wedge of material up their ass, and the sheer itching against their stomachs, but you figure you can power through. it’s just one night— well that’s unless Oscar decides the 10 dollar red lace bodysuit was to stay permanently.

you hear the lock of your apartment free, and the door swing behind him indicating Oscar and the carry out food had arrived.

“darling, where are you?” he calls out from the kitchen, and taking no time to wait for you. he’s unpacked the styrofoam containers from the bag, opening his box, he takes in a few bites of food that attempted to spill out the container.

reaching for a napkin to clean up his mess, he quickly glances up to see if you’ve made your way in only to stop in his tracks, jaw nearly smack to the floor at the sight of red.

“you look—“ he doesn’t get the chance to begin, there’s not a word he can find to finish the sentence, because whatever it was he was already feeling against his pants.

moving around the counter, he finds himself in front of you where he can see just how much you’re doing to him with so little. a giggle escapes your lips as you pull his face to yours, “did you want to eat first?” you ask.

shaking his head he whispers a no, before placing his hands against your hips, finger tips gently trail the red lace up your body, “I want you first.”

it’s not a long walk to your bedroom, but it feels like ages for him. every second he doesn’t have his hands on you is a waste, and when he finally does get them, it’s not wasted removing the lace from your body revealing every part of you faster than you expected him to do.

he takes the second to fumble with the condom, his fingers shake with anticipation, it’s almost like the first time you’d done it in your relationship. the nerves got to you both, trying to figure out what worked and didn’t, but now, you’d say your pros. knowing the ins and outs of each others bodies, like how he favored your lips around his dick and you liked his fingers inside of you. with time, you learned all of this.

this was a gift on its own, one that had him dripping in precum and aching to get inside you. and when the condom finally was secured, he, once again, didn’t waste a second to find your cunt and fuck you.

his hips grind against yours creating warmth between your bodies. his hair falls across his forehead that you can barely see with the blur of pleasure in your eyes.

he doesn’t say much. he never does, but he doesn’t hesitate to praise you, adore you, and remind you of how lucky he is.

“you’re so good to me,” he’s saying, transitioning from being inside you, his lips travel across your warm skin all the way down to your hips. his fingers gently nudge your thighs open, and you get the hint, “let me do this for you, my valentine.”

you’re unsure if it was the kisses, the words, or his warm tongue against your wet folds, but one of them got the air stuck in your throat. there’s nothing more than you love than the sound of Oscar eating you out. the slurps, the hum— all of it. the sounds were pleasing to your ears, even more so than the action itself you were gripping the sheets.

he’s edging you, playing you. its ridiculous and maybe you deserve it. after all, you’d put the idea of you in red in his head days ago and he’d been unable to concentrate. the patterns of floral dancing across your chest, a low cut neckline, he’d wanted it all— or none of it if you’d decided that. but you deserved this in some way. you’d been the one to send his dick rock hard any hour or second of the day.

“osc,” the moan comes out more like a pity plea. the chuckle against your pussy sent a chill down your spine and a twirl in your stomach. so you deserved that much, you thought, but this? not letting you come? too much.

“I’m gonna come,” the words spill as does the warmth out of you, his face covered in you wasn’t something he could ever be mad about, but not giving him the chance to edge you? you’ll be paying for that later.

“I wasn’t finished.” he slides a finger inside, barely giving you time to rest and recover, “you fucked with my mind all week.” he groans at the very sight of you from a couple minutes ago. he wished he’d taken a picture, saved it for later, but he was too antsy. his pants did the thinking more than his head. and that’s why he’s stuck his finger in your pussy.

he loves the sound of you. moans, groans, whines, whatever it was. he knew you liked the way he rubbed your clit, the way he kept going until he felt the shake of the frame against him, and that’s when he removed his fingers letting you come.

“what a jackass.” you swear closing your legs up and pushing yourself up off the mattress to find your clothes, “didn’t even let me cum on your fingers, like it’s not Valentine’s Day—“

he shuts you up with a soft kiss, “I think we should eat first before another round.” his words hang in the air as he watches the anger sizzle out of you, “and I want you in that red thing again.”

“anything for you, my valentine.”

tags: @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @leclerc13 @smoothopz @imsorare @lpab @lunnnix @frreyaa

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rishiguro · 10 months

Note

hi rin!! i was wondering if i could request a jjk angst fic? (specifically nanami but you can include whoever you want)

your “when they throw their wedding ring” really hit a nerve so here i am begging for more hahaha (i’m 19 btw!)

BUSY THINKING ABOUT EX HUSBAND!NANAMI

a/n: is this the place to mention that i also started working on a full nanami angst fic?

ex husband!nanami who wasn’t happy when you told him that you wanted a divorce, but only sighed before nodding and telling you that he‘ll agree to whatever conditions you give him.

ex husband!nanami who only hesitated once the papers were in front of him, simply needing his signature on them.

ex husband!nanami who tries to rationalize his feelings away and keeps telling himself that you simply were nothing more than a chapter in his book.

ex husband!nanami who seemed to move on so simply, acting like nothing was wrong to begin with and continued to live his life just like he did before — like you were never there to begin with.

ex husband!nanami who only months later realizes how much he regrets not fighting for you harder, how he loathes the cold side of the bed on which you always slept and how he has so much space in his closet now.

ex husband!nanami who realizes that he only felt joy in his chores and errands was because he got to do them with you.

ex husband!nanami who still buys your favorite kind of cereal, fruit and snacks and doesn’t even notice it until he’s unpacking everything at home, putting them away with a heavy heart, because he doesn’t even like them.

ex husband!nanami who refuses to throw away the last pictures, still keeping your wedding portrait in the top drawer of his nightstand.

ex husband!nanami who acts civil and distant whenever someone mentions you, yet tries to change the topic as quickly as possible because talking about you is just too painful.

ex husband!nanami who always keeps his wedding rin in his pocket wherever he goes.

ex husband!nanami who can’t help but think about you every night before he falls asleep, missing the times where you would cuddle him to fall asleep — and now he feels like he can barely sleep without your warmth.

ex husband!nanami who still dreams of you at night, reliving both the happiest and saddest moments during your relationship.

ex husband!nanami who always wakes up drenched in sweat after, with his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares down on his blanket for minutes with sad eyes.

ex husband!nanami who wants you back desperately but keep his distance seeing that you moved on — silently hoping that maybe one day he can do too.

reblog to show some love

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muddyorbsblr · 5 months

Text

would've could've should've pt1

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: A careless comment from Thor calls into question the stability of your relationship with Loki

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+ | mature themes; the slightest bit of steam toward the beginning; angst; Tony and Thor having a very much "bro" type attitude and not in the good way; hinting at Reader's emotional baggage; the slightest mention of human experimentation [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established but private/secret relationship; Reader's baggage will be explained further in part 2

There was something rather peaceful in the routine you and Loki had settled into when either of you came back from a mission. Decompressing the night before the debriefing care of Rogers that you took bets on how long this one would last. And whoever won would get to pick where to get takeout from on your next indoor date night.

Your last mission was particularly stressful, nearly losing a limb from triggering a booby trap while retrieving intel about potential human experimentation from a HYDRA base. The second Nat mentioned that little tidbit in passing while you were unpacking your equipment from the mission, the god left the common area, raiding the pantry for a selection of your favorite snacks, and queueing up one of your comfort movies.

The one about a woman that hit her head and found herself stranded in a romantic comedy only to realize that her best friend, the one that had been in front of her all this time, was her great love all along.

When you got to your apartment, Loki was already there with the movie ready to play on the screen, and he even went the extra step to open and plate the snacks on the coffee table in your living room for easier access. And the cherry on top of it all was that he brought over one of his sweaters for you to change into, something he'd been doing more and more ever since you mentioned how comfortable they were during one of your missions together where you'd shared a suite.

"You know, I'm pretty sure they're watching the same movie outside," you mentioned, speaking around the wafer stick you were munching on. "Nat just texted me that she has Netflix power considering how this mission got us stressed out to hell and back. Wanna just watch it outside with the rest of the guys?"

The god shook his head, pulling you closer to him. "If we join them outside, then I would be unable to do this." He tilted your chin up and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "And this is my favorite part," he mumbled against your skin before proceeding to give you a series of kisses, increasing with passion in each one.

Suddenly whatever was happening in the movie didn't matter to you anymore, an army of butterflies fluttering near violently at your stomach as he wrapped his arm around you and maneuvered your positions until you were straddling him on the couch, your knees on either side of his hips. He kept his hand on your waist, holding you steady while his other hand buried itself in your hair before he licked into your mouth, letting out a decadent sounding moan when your tongues met.

He moved his hand to your lower back, changing your positions once again so that your back was flat on the couch, and he hovered over you and between your legs. You leaned into his touch, losing yourself in his attentions, until his hand moved upward, cupping your breast. That was when you broke the kiss.

"I'm sorry," he panted, immediately moving his hand away once he saw the frantic, panicked look in your eyes. "I got carried away--"

"No, sweetie, I'm sorry," you insisted, placing your hands on his shoulders, and pulling yourself up slightly to kiss him, trying to reassure your boyfriend he did nothing wrong. "It's just…I want to be ready, really, I do. And I know it's frustrating for you it's just that…every time we take a step in that direction something in me starts running and cowering in a corner, it's not fair to you that--"

"Please don't apologize, darling, you have nothing to be sorry for." He righted your positions on the couch, delicately stroking your hair and giving you a soft peck on your lips before he stood, offering you his hand. "I think we could both benefit from cooling off a bit. Would you like to join the others outside?"

Despite having offered it yourself just a few minutes earlier, your stomach dropped when the tables had turned, knowing that you'd put a stop to something that could have turned out completely mind-blowing and possibly even life changing. Only thing was, when you reached the peak of a relationship, that was it.

The only way forward was down.

"You go ahead," you told him, walking toward your bedroom. "I'll just change into my sweats first…so no one asks questions."

By some miracle, no one on the team had caught on yet that you two had started seeing each other and had been in a relationship for the better part of the year. And neither of you seemed to be itching to burst your little bubble of privacy quite yet, knowing that the second the team knew, Wanda and Nat would be down your throat with questions practically begging for every detail. And Thor would be doing much of the same for his brother.

At least that was the story you tried to tell yourself. It was better than what that little voice in your head tried to scream at you every time he didn't take the seat next to you. Or when he'd drop your hand and take a few steps back the second he heard someone rounding the corner.

Loki gave you a strained smile, starting to walk toward your front door. "I'll see you outside then." Before you could reach your bedroom, he called out to you. "I love you, little mortal."

You blinked back the tears that were threatening to come out, looking back at him with a contrived smile of your own. "I love you, too, Mischief."

A good few minutes passed before you exited your apartment, the movie paused on the TV and a rather lively discussion being had among your teammates. Something about Barnes' new girlfriend.

"Oh good you're here, jellybean, welcome to the circus," Tony greeted you, jutting his chin toward the empty seat next to Wanda. "Need your input on something."

Instead of taking the seat, you walked over to the bar to pour yourself a glass of wine. You had a feeling you were gonna need it. On your way there, you spotted Loki seated near his brother, giving you a minuscule smile and a tiny wave of his hand.

"Go ahead, I'm listening," you called out.

"Stark's trying to tell me the woman I'm seeing isn't all that interested in me because she doesn't want to spend the night," Bucky started. "Said she's just with me for the aesthetic of dating me, whatever backwards 21st Century nonsense that is. I'm trying to tell the rest of these horn dogs that maybe she's just not ready yet. Good things take time. Flowers need to blossom--"

"Sarge, don't ever say that line again, it's so cheesy you'll attract rats in here," you shot back, pointing your finger at the soldier before turning toward Stark. "That said though…I'm with Bucky on this one, Stark. Maybe she's just not ready yet I mean…not everyone's ready to drop trou and put out so easily, you know. How long have you been dating this girl anyways?" You turned back to Bucky as you asked the question.

"Three weeks? Give or take?"

"Dammit Stark, it's only been three weeks, give our boy some time." You made a show of facepalming before you picked up your glass, plopping down next to Wanda who immediately rested her head on your shoulder.

"They've been at this for the last ten minutes," she groaned. "Wake me when they put the movie back on." Meanwhile, you clocked Nat next to her, not so subtly massaging her temples in an attempt to calm herself down. You shared the feeling; this was such a common sense discussion it shouldn't have lasted thirty seconds.

"Well then perhaps you could provide some insight for another situation, Lady Y/N," Thor boomed from across the floor, swatting his brother's hand away when he tried to get the blond Asgardian to stop.

"Brother you really need not--"

"Nonsense. Lady Y/N seems knowledgeable on how timetables and relations between mortals work, perhaps she'll finally give the perspective I have been seeking."

Your boyfriend shot you a look, as if he was already embarrassed by what his brother was about to say, piquing your curiosity even more. "I'm all ears, Thunder. Ask away."

"My brother has been seeing a mortal woman for the better part of the last Midgardian year. My best estimate…eight moons," he began, your stomach once again dropping at the realization that he was about to ask your insight about…yourself. You gave him a motion to go on, placing your glass on the table to hide the way your hand had begun to shake. "And while it has been as you here on Midgard would say 'like pulling teeth' trying to get him to divulge any detail about her, something I have surmised is that she also seems unwilling to spend the night with him. Yet he claims they love each other."

"Yikes, tough break, Reindeer Games!" Tony winced. "My two cents? You're not just on the same boat with Barnes over here, you're the goddamn captain of the ship. Go on, jellybean, tell him."

"I-I…" you stuttered, your heart thundering in your chest from unwittingly having been placed on the proverbial hot seat. "Maybe she just…wants to be sure, you know? I mean…I don't know how y'all do it in Asgard but here, with some people, being intimate is…something m-more than physical."

You could see from where you sat that the raven-haired god's fingers were twitching, his leg bouncing as if he wanted to stand up and leave the room. You pretty much wanted out of this, too.

Thor waved off your explanation. "I completely disagree. That amount of time passed, I believe one should be sure lest she be wasting both of their time. Brother, much as I can tell you love this mortal, it is my expert opinion, which I believe will be backed by the men in this room, that your mortal woman does not love you. This is, as our genius friend Stark has stated earlier, all for the optics of having you at her arm."

It was getting impossible to breathe. How dare he say that about you right in your face like this? Thinking he knew everything there was to know about your relationship just because he was in one of his own?

"You know not the first thing about her, Brother," Loki hissed, speaking through his teeth as if he was readying himself to strike.

"I know enough," the blond Asgardian shot back dismissively. "You know I think the world of you, Brother, and after everything you've endured, you deserve every bit of happiness this universe will grant you." He clapped his hand on Loki's shoulder. "If this mortal shares not this sentiment, then perhaps your time is better spent elsewhere."

"He's right, Mischief," you choked out, your voice so small you were surprised it even traveled that far that it had everyone looking to you. "Maybe you are wasting your time with this one…you know, if she's making you wait so long." You stood up abruptly, making Wanda groan in protest when she nearly fell over to the spot you'd just vacated.

In what was probably your most poorly miscalculated decision for the night, you downed your wine in a single gulp, starting to walk back to your apartment.

"Hey where you going, jellybean, you just got here," Tony hollered from his seat. "Come on, I know talking about Frosty the Snowman's nonexistent sex life was a drag, how about we all drop it for now, I'll order some tacos and we can go back to grilling Manchie here."

"Or we could lay off either of us and grill someone else for a change?" Bucky groaned, throwing his human arm over his eyes as he turned his face to the ceiling.

"You know what, you are so right, let's talk about the big guy who has a lot to say about being the resident relationship expert." Stark turned to face Thor. "How is Lady Thunder lately? And how are you with the whole your old hammer chooses her over you thing?"

The conversation faded into a dulled roar in your ears as the wine begun to take what fleeting effect it would have on you, your pulse faintly thumping in your ears as you made your way back to your apartment.

You hadn't even been back two minutes before your door swung open again, the God of Mischief standing at your entryway looking a mix of concerned and distraught. "Darling, I completely apologize for my oaf of a brother, I had no idea he would--"

"It's okay, Loki," you cut him off, throwing your hands up as if to push away the conversation. "Maybe he's on to something, I mean you should be with someone who doesn't take forever and a day to be ready for something like this, maybe we should--"

In an instant, he stood inches away from you, placing his hands on your shoulders in a gentle but firm grasp. "Don't say another word, my love, please." He rubbed his hands up and down your arms in a soothing gesture; whether it was to soothe you or him was beyond you.

"You want more, I get that," you pressed on. "And I can't give that to you--"

"You are all that I want, precious mortal." He leaned in, pressing a desperate kiss to your lips before wrapping his arms around you. "I am already more than content that you've even granted me the honor to know who you are outside of our duties. This is all I need, to be able to love you as I have these past moons."

Tears began to fall from your eyes as your words weighed heavy on your tongue. "I'm sure there's someone out there more than willing to give you what I can't, it's selfish of me to keep you--"

"Stop, little mortal, I beg of you," he pleaded, repeatedly pressing his lips to your forehead. "Don't rid yourself of me like this. I don't care if there's someone else out there, they aren't you." He sat you both down back on the couch, cradling you against his chest as his hand rubbed up and down your back in soothing motions. "Please just try to put what my oaf of a brother said out of your mind. His opinion is entirely his own and it is one I do not share."

Your next question blurted out without much resistance. "Loki what if I never become ready? What if you really are wasting your time with me, you shouldn't--"

"Any time I spend with you, regardless of how it is spent, is never a waste," he whispered, stroking your face as he held your gaze. "If ever you decide to share that part of yourself with me, it will be an honor that I will cherish for the rest of my days, but I will never be the one to place pressure on you to move yourself at a pace you're uncomfortable with."

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, prompting him to press a kiss to your temple when you sniffled from the tears you were trying and failing to hold back. "I do love you," you mumbled against him. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do, my darling mortal." He pressed his cheek against yours, taking deep breaths to calm himself after the scare your words from earlier gave him. He wanted to punch his brother clean across the jaw for jeopardizing his happiness with his careless words, and the stabbing pain it put him through seeing how deeply that opinion had cut you.

He started moving toward your bedroom, carrying you in his arms bridal style. Mostly in refusal to let you go even for a fraction of a moment.

"What're you doing?" you mumbled, making a motion to move out of his arms.

"We're going to bed, darling. Just to sleep, nothing more, I swear."

"Hmph…" you shook your head, the motion making the tip of your nose nuzzle his neck in a slight tickling sensation. "Maybe…maybe you should stay at your place tonight." Your voice was so small, so unsure of what you'd just said. The god stopped in his tracks, his body going rigid and making you immediately regret your words.

"Do you want me to leave, dear heart?" he choked out, his heart at war with himself as it protested against him putting you back down on your feet.

"No," you admitted, lifting your head from his shoulder and showing him the tears that had begun to redden your eyes. "I want you to stay, I'll always want you to stay, I just don't…" Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, almost sounding like a hiccup. "I don't want you to be frustrated because of me--"

"I'm not," he reassured you, resting his forehead on yours. "Being with you like this is more than enough for me. I need you to know this, my darling."

He laid you down on your bed before his clothes changed into his own loungewear set with a wash of his green magic, settling under the covers next to you and pulling you into his arms.

"Promise me something, Mischief?"

"Anything."

"If…and when…the time comes that you get tired of waiting? And you want to be with someone else--"

"Little mortal, not another word." He tightened his hold on you, as if he couldn't hold you close enough. "Please, my love, let's just retire for the night."

"Just let me get this out," you insisted. "Let me say my piece and I'll never mention it again. Okay?"

He sighed, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Okay."

"If you want to be with someone else, just promise you'll tell me and leave me first? I don't wanna find out waking up one morning and seeing someone else with her arms around you and just waving it around for everyone to see." Your voice dwindled and wavered into barely a whisper, your arm tightening around his midsection, a part of you already refusing to give him up even if the day were to come.

"That will never happen," he told you. "Why would I ever wish to leave you?"

"Just--Just promise me anyway. Please?"

"Look at me, little mortal." He traced along your jaw with his finger, tilting your chin up so he could see your eyes. The sight of the genuine fear of that precise outcome reflected in your expression knocked nearly all of the air from the god's lungs. "On the remotest chance of that happening, I promise I will never do wrong by you. But I want nothing more than for you rest assured that I will never wish to be with another.

"Perhaps one day you'll believe it. But I will gladly spend my days proving my devotion to you. This…This I will gladly swear to you. On whatever semblance of a soul I have left." He brushed the tip of his nose against yours before pressing a tender kiss to the same spot. "I love you, my darling Y/N."

You finally settled in his embrace, resting your head on his chest as you began to let your breathing even out. "I love you, too, Loki."

Just the thought of history repeating itself one day had your blood going cold, feeling as if your very bones were shaking from the images your mind conjured of the inevitable day that Loki would leave you. Somewhere deep inside you knew it was ridiculous for you to even think that your boyfriend was anywhere even near capable of putting you through what he had all those years ago.

But that was the thing about fear. Sometimes it was rational, like jumping out of the Quinjet and having a passing scare that your parachute had a hole in it. And other times it was outright absurd. Like now. Thinking that in the morning after you first had sex, the god would have realized there wasn't anything worth spending more time with. That he'd have had his fill of you and now it was time to move on to better prospects.

It didn't help, either, that your overly cautious mind was yelling that the signs were all there. That it could tell you exactly where this was headed because of the dropped hands. The refusal to even sit near each other. The barely there acknowledgement when you were even in the same room together. Everything that had happened before with him…felt like a mirror image of what was happening now. With Loki.

And you didn't have it in you to tell him that his desire for privacy was slowly and quite surely crushing you.

A/N: Starting off another story from the request pile! This is going to have 3 parts, where both parts 1 and 2 will deliver on the more angsty part and part 3 will be the comfort/fluff. I know you asked for "90% angst", Anon, but hopefully 10k words worth of angst will do it…because part 2 is 6.5k words long 😳👀

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highvern · 7 months

Text

adamas et aurum

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: gross domestic fluff, boyfriend mingyu

Length: ~1.7k

Note: more Drunk Goggles couple bc im beating a dead horse. idk why i do this to myself :) crying :) in :) the :) club :)