#(hello! it is nice to meet you officially finally!)

[code01746]

📏 + Mr 3 (a fellow dad) 180cm! btw helloww

dad meeting! dad meeting! dad 2 dad communication.

[mssalo]

after hours

Joel Miller has been yours for a month now, and while things between you are steady, Jackson’s demands have kept you too busy for his liking. Missing you fiercely, Joel decides to pick you up after a late night, only for his mood to sour when Paul monopolizes your time. What starts as a simple check-in turns into something much more when Joel finally gets you alone or well... the other way around.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Sub!Joel, Dom!fem!reader, explicit sexual content, oral (m! and f! receiving), throat fucking, Joel nearly getting rimmed (not quite yet, though - we getting there), Joel kissing your feet for a sec, jealousy (hello, Paul), office sex kinda, praise kink, Joel being a desperate, needy mess, - and soft emotional moments because I'm nice

This can be read as a standalone but officially its part two of ma'am.

7k. Enjoy!

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The sun had long since set, casting Jackson in a blanket of cool twilight. Joel sat at the small kitchen table in his house, staring down at the unlit candle sitting in front of him.

He turned it slowly between his rough fingers, the faint scent of something warm and sweet drifting up to him- something that reminded him of you.

He’d found it earlier on patrol, tucked away in an abandoned cabin, and the moment the smell hit him, you’d been all he could think about.

The softness of it, the quiet comfort - it was you to him. He wasn’t sure why he picked it up, not at first.

Gifts weren’t exactly something he knew how to give anymore, and hell, he didn’t even know if it was too early for something like this. A month together wasn’t long, but for Joel, it felt like something impossible.

You had slipped into his life like sunlight, warm and steady, breaking through cracks he didn’t know were there. In just a month, you’d pulled him out of a place he thought he’d never leave, and it scared him sometimes - how much he cared. How much he wanted to hold onto you.

But lately, Jackson had taken up so much of your time. You still saw each other - quiet dinners, soft conversations, and kisses stolen in the fading light of day but that’s all there had been.

Between long shifts, late nights, and endless meetings, you’d been stretched thin, and Joel could see it. He didn’t resent you for it - how could he? You were the heart of this place, keeping everything and everyone steady. It was just…

He missed you.

And tonight, when the clock struck well past 11, and you still hadn’t come home, something in him stirred. Joel wasn’t the type to chase someone down, but tonight, he couldn’t just sit in the quiet house anymore.

With a deep sigh, he grabbed his jacket, stuffing the candle carefully into his pocket. The cold air bit at his skin as he stepped out onto the gravel path, boots crunching softly as he made his way toward the main building where he knew you’d still be.

As he climbed the stairs and spotted the warm light glowing from beneath your office door, he felt some of the tension ease in his chest.

You were safe. Good. But then he heard it—soft voices, yours and another man’s - Paul.

Joel paused just outside, his jaw clenching. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but something about it—about how Paul’s voice carried that too-familiar tone, how your own voice stayed calm and professional - made his teeth grind.

Paul. Joel knew exactly who he was, young, good-looking, dependable. Always where you were, always taking up your time. Joel resented him for it. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he was damn sure Paul wanted you - how could he not? Hell, Joel figured everyone did.

You were strong, beautiful, impossible to ignore.

And Joel? He still didn’t quite know how he’d gotten lucky enough to have you, and it ate at him, hearing Paul’s voice when he wanted to see and talk to you so badly himself.

His brow furrowed, and he stopped just outside the slightly ajar door.

“- appreciate the update, Paul,” you were saying, your voice calm and professional. “We’ll make adjustments to the roster tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” Paul replied, his tone polite but with a hint of familiarity that set Joel’s teeth on edge.

Joel peeked through the crack in the door and felt his chest tighten.

You were leaning partially against your desk, your posture relaxed but commanding, your sleeves pushed up to your elbows as you gestured toward a stack of papers in front of you.

The soft lamplight illuminated your face, highlighting the curve of your jaw, the way your blouse clung just right.

You looked… god, you looked so fucking good.

Too good.

Joel’s jaw worked as he stepped into the doorway, his hand gripping the frame. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, his presence heavy and awkward.

You glanced up at him, your brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “Joel?”

He shifted on his feet, his gaze flicking between you and Paul, unsure of what to say. His fists clenched at his sides, and he suddenly felt out of place, like he was intruding.

Paul turned to look at him as well, his expression polite but curious. “Evening, Joel,” he said with a nod.

Joel gave a tight nod in return, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to think of something to say. But his gaze kept drifting back to you - your relaxed posture, the slight smirk tugging at your lips as you studied him.

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you read the situation.

“I think we can wrap up for tonight, Paul,” you said smoothly, your voice taking on a sharper edge. “We’ll revisit this tomorrow.”

Paul blinked, glancing between the two of you before nodding. “Sure. Have a good night.”

You waited until Paul had gathered his things and stepped out of the office before turning your full attention to Joel. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the desk, one brow arched as you studied him.

“Well?” you said, your tone light but teasing. “What’s on your mind, Miller?”

Joel shuffled his feet, his eyes darting to the floor. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “Just… you were workin’ late. Wanted to check on you.”

Your lips curved into a slow smile, and you pushed off the desk, stepping toward him. “And here I thought you were giving Paul the stink eye,” you teased, stopping just in front of him.

Joel’s ears burned, and his hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “Wasn’t givin’ him anythin’,” he mumbled, his gaze stubbornly avoiding yours.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, tilting your head as you watched him squirm. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Joel’s voice was quiet, thick with a mix of concern and something deeper. “You shouldn’t work so late,” he said, his dark eyes locking onto yours for just a moment before darting away again. “It ain’t good for you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Baby, I’m alright,” you reassured him, your voice gentle. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

But Joel’s jaw tightened, and his shoulders remained stiff. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a clear sign he was holding something back.

You stepped closer, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his scruffy cheeks. “Hey,” you murmured, leaning in until your forehead almost touched his. “I mean it. I’m okay. You can breathe, you know.”

He exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into your touch. “Just… can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice rough and low. “You do too much. Somebody’s gotta make sure you take care of yourself.”

Your smile softened, and you pressed a brief, chaste kiss to his forehead. “You’re sweet,” you said, your tone teasing but warm. “But I’ve got this, Joel. I promise.”

With that, you turned back to the desk, leaning slightly as you reached for a stack of papers you’d been organizing before Joel arrived.

Your blouse shifted as you moved, the fabric pulling taut across your back and revealing a hint of the smooth skin at your waist. You pushed up your sleeves absentmindedly, as you flipped through the papers with a focused efficiency that had Joel rooted in place.

Joel tried to focus on your words, on the way you calmly explained whatever you’d been discussing with Paul before he barged in, but his mind betrayed him.

His eyes trailed over the curve of your back, the dip of your waist, the way your pants hugged your hips. His pulse quickened, heat creeping up his neck as he imagined you sitting back on that desk, your legs spread as you guided his head between them.

Fuck.

Joel clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides as he tried to shove the thought away, but it was no use.

The image was too vivid—the taste of you, the sound of your breathy moans, the way you’d hold his hair as he worshipped you. He could practically feel the pressure of your thighs around his head, your voice low and commanding as you told him to keep going, good boy.

“Joel?”

Your voice jolted him from his spiraling thoughts, and his head snapped up. You were looking over your shoulder, one eyebrow raised, your lips tugged into a curious smirk. “You okay over there?”

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Just… thinkin’.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, turning fully to face him now.

You leaned back against the desk, crossing your arms over your chest, and Joel’s eyes—completely against his will—dropped for a fraction of a second before snapping back up. Your smirk deepened, and Joel’s ears burned.

“You sure about that?” you teased, tilting your head. “Because it seems like your thoughts might be wandering.”

“I—” Joel started, but the words caught in his throat.

He looked away, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought to regain control. But the way you leaned against the desk, your confidence radiating in every movement, was doing things to him he couldn’t stop.

You watched him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly, your smirk softening into something more thoughtful.

Then, you straightened, uncrossing your arms and stepping closer. “Joel,” you said softly, your voice dropping just enough to make his heart skip. “What’s really on your mind?”

His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you, your fingers brushing lightly over his forearm.

He wanted to answer, but the words tangled in his throat, his mind still clouded with the image of you, the way you’d look under him—no, above him.

You tilted your head, studying him like you could see right through him, and your lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I see,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement.

Joel’s mouth opened, then closed again. He shook his head quickly, his ears burning, but you didn’t let him squirm away this time.

You stepped even closer, your fingers trailing up to rest lightly against his chest. “Come on, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft but teasing. “You can tell me.”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting to yours, then away again. “It’s… I just—” He stopped, his hands clenching at his sides as he let out a frustrated sigh. “You make it impossible to think, y’know that?”

Your smile widened, your head tilting as you regarded him.

“Oh?” you said, your tone light but edged with something darker, something that made Joel’s stomach flip. “And what exactly are you thinking about?”

Joel hesitated, his gaze flicking to the desk behind you for just a second before he looked away again, his jaw tightening. But it was enough. Your eyes sparkled with realization, and you leaned in, your voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Thinking about me on that desk, baby?” you murmured, your lips curving into a sly smile. “Thinking about how good it’d feel to put that mouth of yours to work?”

Joel’s breath hitched, his entire body going taut as he stared at you, his pupils blown wide. “I—fuck,” he rasped, his voice breaking

Your smirk deepened, and you reached up to brush your fingers through his hair, your nails grazing his scalp. “Go on, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like velvet. “Say it.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his entire body going taut as he stared at you, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he was caught mid-thought.

“I—fuck,” he rasped, voice cracking under the weight of whatever was bubbling inside him.

You smirked, tilting your head, and let your fingers glide into his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp.

Joel swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“All day, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you—‘bout gettin’ my mouth on you. Feelin’ your thighs against my face, your taste on my tongue. Can’t stop.” His voice dropped into a low growl, his breath uneven.

“Can’t even fuckin’ think straight when you’re standin’ there lookin’ like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Didn’t I take care of you this morning, sweet one?”

His jaw flexed, and he groaned softly, his eyes dropping to your lips, then trailing over your body with an intensity that made your stomach clench.

“It wasn’t enough,” he muttered, voice desperate. “It’s never enough. You ruin me, darlin’. I just… I need you.”

You leaned back against the desk, arms crossed casually over your chest, and his eyes followed the movement, locking onto the subtle shift of your body.

“Take my pants off, Joel,” you said, your voice calm but firm, like it was the simplest request in the world.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his fingers already moving before he could fully process your words.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he stepped closer. His hands were unsteady, reverent, as they found the waistband of your pants, hesitating for just a moment before undoing the button and sliding the zipper down.

The air between you crackled as he knelt in front of you, his hands gently tugging your pants down over your hips.

His lips parted, and you heard the faintest gasp as your panties came into view, a darkened spot already visible where your arousal soaked through.

“Goddamn,” Joel muttered, his voice low and wrecked, his hands gripping your thighs. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect. Don’t even know what you do to me.”

You smirked, leaning forward slightly, one hand brushing through his hair. “I know exactly what I do to you, baby,” you murmured. “That’s why you’re on your knees for me, isn’t it?”

Joel tugged the rest of your pants free, his movements quick and deliberate, pausing only to slide your shoes off and set them aside.

The moment your legs were bare, he hesitated, his eyes darting down to your feet before he leaned in suddenly, pressing his lips to the top of one foot.

The soft, warm press of his mouth sent a shiver through you, and you let out a startled laugh, tilting your head as you looked down at him. “Joel,” you said, your voice low with curiosity and amusement. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his lips traveled over the arch of your foot, slow and reverent, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick and trembling.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. Every part of you—” His tongue flicked out briefly, dragging along the delicate curve of your ankle. “—drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

Your breath caught as his hands slid up to cradle your calves, his lips brushing against the arch of your other foot.

“Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft but edged with heat. “Are you a feet-guy now?”

His head snapped up, his cheeks flushed, but his eyes were dark with pure, unfiltered want.

“I’m a you guy,” he rasped, his voice rough and uneven. “I’d worship every inch of you if you let me, ma’am.”

The sincerity and desperation in his voice made heat pool low in your belly, and you smirked, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Every inch, huh?” you teased, your tone sultry. “Guess I should let you, then.”

His lips parted as he stared up at you, his chest heaving like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “Please,” he whispered, the single word dripping with need as his hands gripped your legs tighter. “Let me.”

Joel didn’t hesitate when you gave him a soft nod, your smirk still firmly in place.

His hands slid slowly down your thighs, reverent and careful, like you might vanish if he wasn’t gentle.

Joels lips parted as he lowered his head, brushing a slow, deliberate kiss against your knee before trailing lower, his breath warm and shaky against your skin.

“Go on, baby,” you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair as you tilted your head, watching him with a lazy sort of dominance. “Show me how much you mean it.”

Joel groaned softly, his hands trembling as they gripped your thighs tighter. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, the heat of his lips sending a shiver up your spine.

His nose brushed against your skin as he moved closer, inhaling deeply like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “Smell so good. Always do.”

Your smirk deepened, and you gave his hair a soft tug, guiding him closer to where you wanted him.

“You’ve got a smart mouth when it comes to saying all the right things, Joel,” you teased, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Now, put it to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel rasped, his voice trembling. He didn’t waste another second, his lips brushing against the damp fabric of your panties.

The first touch made him groan, the sound desperate and guttural as he pressed his face closer, his nose nudging against your clit.

You gasped softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. “That’s it, baby,” you whispered, your tone calm and encouraging. “Yeah, just like that.”

Joel’s tongue flicked out, dragging along the wet patch that had already formed against the thin fabric.

He moaned as the taste of you hit his tongue, and the vibrations of the sound sent a sharp jolt of heat through your core.

His lips latched onto you through your panties, sucking softly as his nose pressed harder against your clit, grinding into you with every movement.

“You’re such a good boy, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like silk. “Look at you, so desperate to please. Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day.”

He whimpered, his hands sliding up to grip your hips as he buried his face deeper against you.

“Every day,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Think about it every damn day. Wanna taste you, wanna make you feel so good.”

You smiled, the sound low and indulgent as you gave his hair another tug. “Then take them off, baby,” you whispered, your tone commanding but patient. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel’s hands shook as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, his lips brushing against your hip as he slid them down your legs.

He didn’t even bother to move them completely out of the way, his attention entirely on the sight of you bared before him. His breath hitched, and he licked his lips, his eyes dark and filled with reverence.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice wrecked.

You chuckled softly, leaning back against the desk and letting your thighs fall open a little wider.

Joel groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs as he leaned in, his lips parting to drag his tongue slowly through your folds.

The first taste always made him moan so loudly you couldn’t help but smile, and his tongue worked with desperate precision, lapping at your entrance before moving up to flick over your clit.

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed, your nails grazing against his scalp. “You’re so eager, baby. So good at this.”

He whimpered against you, his tongue pressing harder against your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking gently.

His nose brushed against you with every movement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he lost himself in you.

“Keep going, baby,” you whispered, your tone calm but firm.

Joel moaned again, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as his tongue worked faster, licking and sucking like a man possessed.

He was all-in, his desperation and devotion pouring into every movement, every sound, every shuddering breath.

Joel pulled back briefly, his face slick with your arousal, his breaths heavy and uneven. His thick fingers slid up your inner thighs, his touch featherlight, reverent, like he was handling something holy.

He reached your folds, his large fingers spreading your pussy lips apart, exposing your swollen, glistening clit to his dark, hungry gaze.

“Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice low and trembling as he stared.

His fingers gently held you open, and for a moment, all he could do was look - memorizing the way you glistened, the way your cunt clenched with anticipation.

His mouth opened slightly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he bit down softly on the plush skin of your inner thigh, making you jolt.

“Joel,” you warned, your voice thick with arousal. “Don’t just look.”

Slowly, he leaned in to take your throbbing clit into his mouth again. - But then, under his breath, he grumbled,"Bet that asshole Paul ain't ever seen somethin' this fuckin' pretty."

Your brows furrowed immediately, the heat between you both briefly eclipsed by confusion. "Paul?" you snapped, your grip tightening in his hair, pulling his head back roughly.

Joel winced but didn't dare meet your eyes, his cheeks flushed as his lips glistened from where he'd already tasted you.

"You're jealous?" you demanded, a mix of amusement and annoyance in your tone, though there was something undeniably sultry in the way you said it.

Joel stammered, shaking his head, though his guilty expression betrayed him. "I just- he don't deserve to be 'round you like that."

You blinked, momentarily surprised by his audacity.

Then, something wicked curled in your chest, and your smirk returned as you leaned forward, your fingers threading into his hair to tug him to his feet.

Joel stumbled up, flustered, his face red as you pushed him back against the table with a force that knocked the breath out of him.

"You're jealous of Paul," you said again, quieter now, voice dripping with mock disdain as you stepped closer, your hips brushing against his.

Joel swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the table for balance as you caged him in, your body pressing against his like he had nowhere to go.

His lips parting to reply, but no sound came out. His eyes darted to yours, wide and needy as you leaned in close, your lips ghosting over his ear.

"Would I touch Paul like this, Joel?" you murmured, your voice low and teasing as your hand slid down to press against the thick bulge straining in his pants.

Joel let out a strangled whimper, his hips jerking forward instinctively at the contact.

"Answer me," you commanded softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his cock through the fabric, applying just enough pressure to make him groan. "Would he be this hard for me?"

"Fuck-no," Joel choked out, his voice wrecked and trembling. His knuckles turned white where he gripped the table, his whole body tense beneath your touch. "Ain't no one else gets this. Just me. Please - always me, ma'am."

"That's what I thought," you whispered, a smug smile curving your lips as you slowly unbuttoned his pants.

Joel's chest rose and fell in sharp, shaky breaths as he watched your every move, his gaze dark and glassy with need.

"You think Paul could ever handle me the way you do?" you continued, teasing the waistband of his boxers now, your fingers brushing the bare skin of his hips. "Think he'd know how to please me like you do, baby?"

Joel shook his head desperately, his voice barely a whisper as he rasped, "No, ma'am.Never."

"Good boy," you purred, leaning back just enough to look him in the eye.

Joel's hips bucked forward slightly, his cock throbbing beneath your touch, but you stilled him with a firm press of your hand.

"You really think l'd let anyone else have me like this?" you murmured, your tone low and commanding. "You think I'd let anyone but you eat my cunt in this office?"

Joel whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he let out a shaky, broken sound that shot straight to your core.

"Please," he whispered hoarsely. "Please— don't stop."

You smirked, leaning down to press your lips to the corner of his jaw, letting your teeth graze his skin. "You want me to prove it to you, hm, baby?"

Joel nodded frantically, his head falling back as his entire body trembled beneath you.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice raw and needy.

"Please... Show me l'm yours. I'll do anything, ma'am. Anything."

And with that, you sank back down to your knees in front of him, dragging his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, leaving him bare and vulnerable as you stared up at him, the wicked gleam in your eyes making Joel's cock throb painfully in anticipation.

"Alright, handsome," you whispered darkly, your lips brushing over the sensitive tip of him as Joel let out a desperate groan, his hips jerking forward.

"Be a good boy, and I'll make you feel like the only man in the world."

Joel's head tipped back, his hands scrambling for purchase on the edge of the table as your mouth closed around him, and the only word he could manage was a broken, worshipful, "Fuck."

You kissed along the thick length of his cock, slow and deliberate, dragging your tongue in a wet line up the underside until you reached the sensitive tip.

Joel’s body tensed, and a deep, broken groan tore from his throat as his hips jerked forward, chasing your touch.

“Ma‘am,” he choked out, his voice rough, his knuckles white where he gripped the desk behind him. His chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths, eyes blown wide with need as they met yours.

You smirked wickedly, your lips brushing over his flushed, aching head. “Yeah, baby?” you teased, your voice dripping with dark amusement as you kissed him softly, deliberately avoiding where he wanted you most.

“Looks like you’ve been neglected.” You licked up the shaft again, savoring the way he whimpered, the sound breaking into a low, strangled growl. “But that’s on me, huh? I’ve been so busy…”

Joel’s head tipped back, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You’re—fuck, you’re what Jackson needs,” he stammered, his voice wrecked and almost pleading. “S’okay. I get it. You—you’re keepin’ us safe.”

His hands shook as he forced himself to look back at you, his eyes glassy with desperation.

“Oh, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like silk as you nipped lightly at the sensitive skin, making him jolt with a sharp inhale.

“Jackson might need me—but I got someone else at home who needs me now too, hm?” You shot him a pointed look, your tongue flicking out to swirl around the tip as Joel let out a wrecked noise that made you clench around nothing.

His breath stuttered, his entire body trembling beneath your touch. “Me,” he rasped, his voice cracking into a whimper, the word soft and desperate as it fell from his lips.

You hummed, lips curling as you dragged your tongue along the sensitive ridge beneath his head before wrapping your mouth around him completely, taking him slow and deep until the tip nudged the back of your throat.

Joel let out a loud, guttural groan, his hips jerking involuntarily as he felt the wet heat of your mouth envelop him completely.

You pulled back just enough to let him slip free, a trail of spit and pre-cum stretching between your lips and his swollen, aching cock.

It twitched violently in the cool air, slick and flushed dark at the tip, thick veins standing out along his length as it oozed a steady bead of milky pre-cum.

Your eyes trailed over it with a wicked glint, drinking in the sight of him—so messy, so utterly ruined—and your lips curled into a slow, smug smile as you lazily pumped him with your slick hand.

The noise it made was filthy, each movement a slow, deliberate glide of your palm over his slicked skin. “Look at you, Joel. You’re already such a mess for me.”

You dragged your thumb over his leaking slit, smearing the pre-cum down the length of him, and his hips bucked sharply, a strangled groan tearing from his throat.

“Christ,” he choked, his head falling back, his jaw slack as his chest heaved. “Darlin’, please - please, I- ”

“Please what?” you teased, your tone light and mocking as you leaned back in, your lips brushing over the tip again, barely there.

Joel’s whole body jolted, and he whimpered—so loudly—as your tongue darted out to swirl around him, gathering the salty slick that had gathered there.

“Wanna fuck my throat, baby?” you murmured darkly, your gaze locked on his as your lips curled into a slow smile.

“Is that what you’re so desperate for? Hm? That big cock of yours buried all the way in, feelin’ me tight around you?”

Joel let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a plea, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice raw and wrecked. “God, yes, darlin’. I—fuck—please.”

“Then go ahead,” you purred, your hand stroking him with slow, deliberate movements. “Go on, Joel. Take it.”

He froze for half a second, as if the permission short-circuited his brain, before he stepped closer, his hands finally leaving the desk to cradle your jaw.

You let your mouth fall open, your tongue teasing his tip as he slid in, slow and careful, testing the waters. Your eyes stayed locked on his, and you hummed approvingly, encouraging him to move deeper.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” you murmured between breaths, your voice thick with sin. “I can take it.”

Joel groaned, deep and guttural, as he pushed further, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You swallowed around him, and the sound that ripped from his chest was wrecked, his hips twitching as he fought not to lose control.

Slowly, he rocked forward, fucking into your mouth with careful, shallow thrusts, each movement slick and filthy with spit and pre-cum. You could feel him throbbing, could hear the desperate, broken noises spilling from him every time he hit just right.

“Jesus,” Joel gritted out, his voice low and wrecked as his fingers threaded into your hair, guiding you gently. “Feels so fuckin’ good, ma“am. So fuckin’ perfect—goddamn.”

You let him thrust just a little deeper, taking him until your nose pressed against the dark curls at the base of his cock.

Your throat flexed around him, swallowing him whole, and the growl that tore from his chest was loud and shattered, his control slipping further.

He pulled back, your spit trailing in thick, messy strings along his length, and you let out a satisfied hum as you pulled away completely, your lips wet and slick with him.

But you weren’t done.

Your hands slid up his thighs as you leaned lower, pressing your lips to his balls. Joel’s hips jolted sharply, his legs trembling beneath him as you kissed him softly, your tongue flicking out to trace the sensitive skin.

You smirked against him, releasing him with a wet pop before flattening your tongue and dragging it slowly, teasingly, down the sensitive skin just beneath his balls.

Joel’s whole body jerked, his knees threatening to give out as he let out a choked, desperate shout, his fingers tightening painfully in your hair.

“Yes,” he gasped, the word breaking as it tumbled out of him. “Yes, fuck, yes!” His voice cracked, hoarse and wrecked, as you continued your slow, deliberate path, your tongue barely grazing where he was most sensitive.

The filthy noises spilling from him grew louder, more frantic, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you pushed him further and further over the edge.

“Like that, baby?” you purred, pulling back just enough to whisper against the trembling skin. “Want me to lick even lower, huh? Is that what you want?”

Joel let out something between a sob and a growl, his head snapping back as his mouth fell open, panting for air like a man starved.

His body shook violently, and before he could even get the words out, his release hit - a sharp, shuddering jolt that tore through him like lightning.

“Fuck- oh, ma‘am- fuck!” Joel roared, his hips surging forward as his cock throbbed and pulsed, spurting hot, thick ropes of cum across your face and blouse, the first one hitting so hard you moaned softly at the sheer force of it.

His voice echoed off the walls, a deep, primal sound that he didn’t try to be quiet - didn’t care who heard.

“Shit- oh, darlin’ - fuck, I- ” Joel was lost to it, wrecked and trembling, his hands shaking in your hair as his cock twitched again, more of his release spilling onto your tongue and chin.

You caught as much of it as you could, sucking softly at the head of him as he moaned, loud and shattered, the tension in his body finally breaking.

“Such a good boy for me, Joel,” you murmured softly, your voice thick with satisfaction as you swirled your tongue lazily over his still-pulsing tip, gathering the last drops of him.

His cock was slick and messy now, glistening with cum and your spit, and the sight of him—ruined and trembling, his thighs shaking so hard he could barely stand—made you smirk with pure satisfaction.

Joel’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stared down at you, his face flushed and wrecked, his chest heaving like he’d run for miles.

“Jesus,” he rasped, his voice barely there, as if the words were dragged out of him.

You licked at your lips, smearing a streak of his release off your cheek with your thumb before sliding it into your mouth, sucking softly as you held his gaze.

Joel’s body jerked at the sight, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull you up or drop to his knees.

“Made such a mess, baby,” you teased softly, reaching up to stroke his still-twitching cock, your hand gliding easily over the slick mess coating him.

Joel groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips gave an involuntary jerk at your touch.

“Didn’t even care who heard you, huh?”

Joel let out a low, wrecked sound, his face buried in his arm as he leaned heavily against the desk for support. “Don’t fuckin’ care,” he muttered, his voice muffled and rough. “Let ‘em hear. Let ‘em all know I’m yours.”

You smirked, rising slowly to your feet, your body grazing his as you straightened. Joel’s hands found your waist immediately, his grip still shaky, like he needed to hold on to you or risk collapsing completely.

You leaned in close, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, low and sweet, “That’s right, baby. You’re mine.”

Joel groaned softly, his head tilting back to meet your gaze, those dark eyes still heavy-lidded, glassy with the remnants of his release.

There was something else there too - something softer, flickering in the depths as he stared at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Always yours,” he rasped, his voice still wrecked but thick with something deeper. “No one else, darlin’. Just you.”

Your smirk softened, your fingers sliding up to trace along the stubble of his jaw before you cupped his face gently in your hands. “Yeah?” you murmured.

Joel’s breath hitched as you tilted your head and kissed him—softly, slowly—your lips molding to his in a kiss that stripped away the desperation and left nothing but warmth.

He sighed into it, his arms wrapping fully around you now, pulling you in close until you were flush against him.

You pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his as you whispered, “I’m yours too. Always.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his hands tightening on your waist as his thumb traced slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Okay, baby? No need to give Paul the stinky eye,” you teased softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

Joel’s brows knit together, his face shifting into something defensive but playful as he pulled back just enough to look at you.

“I wasn’t givin’ him the stinky eye,” he grumbled, though the way his jaw twitched betrayed him.

You snorted, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up. “Joel,” you teased, your grin spreading wide.

Joel’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through, and he huffed softly, shaking his head. “You’re seein’ things, darlin’,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind his words.

You laughed harder, leaning your forehead against his as his low, rough chuckle finally broke free, rumbling deep in his chest.

The sound sent warmth flooding through you, and before you could say another word, his lips found yours again.

This kiss was softer now—easy, lingering, the kind of kiss that said I’m here, and you’re mine.

Joel’s hands slid up your sides, cradling you close as you melted into him, the laughter fading into something softer, something sweeter.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, you brushed your nose against his. “You were totally giving him the stinky eye,” you murmured, grinning.

Joel chuckled again, shaking his head as he pressed another kiss to your lips—soft, deliberate, and warm. “Maybe,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice low and fond. “Maybe I was.”

Smiling, you brushed your fingers along his jaw, your touch gentle, grounding. “You’re the sexiest and most handsome man I have ever laid my eyes on,” you murmured softly, the sincerity in your voice leaving no room for doubt.

Joel froze for just a moment, his brow furrowing slightly like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. Then, his face softened, his cheeks coloring just a little as his lips curved into a lopsided smile.

“You really think that?” he asked quietly, his voice rough, almost uncertain, as though he didn’t quite believe it.

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “No, Joel. I know that. Don’t go gettin’ all humble on me now.”

Your fingers tangled gently in his hair, your voice a whisper. “No one else could hold a candle to you, Joel Miller. You’ve got no reason to be jealous of anyone.”

He huffed out a small laugh, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer, like he needed to feel you against him to believe it.

After a minute - you stepped back. “C’mon, handsome,” you teased, your voice soft but playful, “let’s get home, yeah?” You winked at him, your grin infectious.

Joel huffed a soft laugh, his hands still resting on your hips. “Yeah,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, proud smile. “I got somethin’ for you at home. A little somethin’ I found today.”

Your eyes lit up, curiosity sparking as you tugged his hand gently. “Ooh, a present? You’re spoilin’ me, Miller,” you teased, grinning wide.

Joel chuckled, ears red, shaking his head as he let you pull him along.

· · ──𖥸

“A candle?” you breathed, your eyes widening as you turned it over in your hands, the label simple but faintly worn.

The smell of something warm and sweet reached your nose, and you blinked up at Joel, completely caught off guard.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the floor as a faint pink crept across his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he said, a little awkwardly, his voice low. “Found it while we were out on patrol. Smell reminded me of you… I don’t know, somethin’ soft and warm—real nice. Figured maybe you’d… like it.”

He shifted slightly, his hands fidgeting against his jeans as he added quickly, “I mean, it’s nothin’ fancy. If it’s too much or too soon—”

“Joel,” you interrupted softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you brought the candle closer, inhaling the faint, soothing scent.

Something in your chest tightened, an unexpected warmth spreading through you that made your throat feel thick. It had been so long—years, really—since anyone had given you something just because they thought of you.

Joel paused mid-ramble, his eyes snapping up to meet yours, worry lingering in his expression.

Before he could say anything else, you stepped forward and kissed him—soft, sweet, and lingering.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice shaky, tears threatening to spill as you smiled up at him. “Thank you so much, Joel. You don’t… you don’t know what this means to me.”

Joel’s brows softened, his hands reaching out to cup your face gently, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice warm and low, “you’re welcome, darlin’. I just… I wanted you to have somethin’ nice. Somethin’ that’s yours.”

You smiled, blinking through the tears as you leaned into his touch.

“No one’s given me a gift since I was seventeen,” you admitted softly, a hint of laughter in your voice as you tried to play it off, but Joel’s expression only grew more tender.

“Well, I’m makin’ up for lost time, then,” he said, his voice steady, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You let out a soft laugh, pressing your forehead against his, your hand still clutching the candle like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re somethin’ else, Joel Miller,” you whispered, your voice fond and thick with emotion.

Joel chuckled softly, his fingers brushing through your hair. “Yeah, well… you’re worth it.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

[chleem]

Casual /extra II

One shot; college students drew x reader

Warning: explicit language + scenes (read at own caution)

⋆.˚ official one shot | more

♡⸝⸝ "fucked you in the bathroom, when we went to dinner"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Where you going?”

You ask, as Drew stands up. The warmth of his hands caressing your thighs is gone, now running through his hair. “Bathroom,” he mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. He walks off, without another glance back at the table. 

His sour mood is evident, by not only you, but all of your friends. 

To be fair, he didn’t even want to come tonight. He pleaded desperately for you to stay in with him, offering things to you that was ridiculous. Such as, doing your laundry for a month (he doesn’t even do his own). 

But you haven’t hung out with all your friends in a long time, and you missed them. So, tonight was non-negotiable with Drew. 

And he gave up with trying to reason with you, hence, why he decided to join you here, at the nice restaurant. He didn’t even make an effort to engage nicely with them, chuckling under his breath at random times and answering questions with short answers. Whenever you were talking, he would purposely distract you by touching you under the table, making it awkward for you and your friends. 

Drew knows your friends don’t like him; that’s why he’s sour. That’s also why he shows up to these hangouts, just to rub it in their faces. 

“Why did you invite him?” Lucy groans, after Drew was out of eye sight. Your five other friends of this group nod too, all letting out groans of frustration. “Hello, earth to y/n, we. Don’t. Like. Him.”

“He insisted on joining,” you shrug, forcing a smile. 

“Um, you could’ve insisted on him not joining,” Janet, another friend adds on. 

Your friend group was filled with weird people with different opinions, but one thing they’ve collectively agreed on was: they hate Drew. ‘Hate’ is a strong word, but that was the only way to describe their feelings towards Drew. 

They’ve expressed it a lot of times, so it’s become numb to you. 

“Are you guys finally together though?” Gary asks, sitting beside you. 

Oh. Every time they see you, they ask this question. 

“Of course not,” Lucy answers for you, sending you a cocky grin. One you always disliked, because it made you feel small. “Classmates, huh?”

“A really bad label,” Stacy adds on. Yeah, as if you didn’t already know. 

Great. Now it’s just your whole friend group judging you for being with Drew. Again. The last thing you needed from them.

“I visited his parents,” you aggressively say, stabbing into your food. Hopefully that will convince them Drew is a better person that what they think, right?

Wrong. They all ‘tsk’ in a disappointed manner, shaking their heads. “And…still classmates?”

“Well, he said I was his best friend,” you stuff the food in your mouth, “To his family.”

“He probably had to,” Josh speaks up this time, “and wow, is that the first time he called you his friend?” 

You don’t miss the sarcasm in his voice, and you send him a glare. He raises his hands in defense, the table laughs. 

You don’t find the humor in this situation. Why were they so judgmental towards the relationship with Drew? It’s not like he’s the biggest jackass ever. You’ve seen every side there is to Drew, they just don’t know him like you do. “Can you guys cut it off?” You say, not trying to hide the annoyance in your voice. 

“We’re just joking,” Janet laughs, glancing around, “besides, we’re worried for you.”

You chew and swallow the food in your mouth, sending her an unappreciative smile, “‘worried’ for me?”

“Yes, he’s obviously not… well, in love with you,” Janet continues, “we don’t want you with someone who clearly doesn’t care for you.”

“He cares for me,” you defend, furrowing your eyebrows at them. You look around the table, seeing your friends glance down at their food, afraid to meet your eyes. “He cares for me.”

“Sure he does,” Stacy bitterly agrees with you. That tone pisses you off. “Maybe privately, he does, but what about in public? Starting off with the most basic, labels.”

You hate how right your friends are. As rude and mean they’re being, deep down, you know they’re right. The ‘no attachments’ thing is bullshit, especially when nothing about the two of you is casual. 

Five, no close to six months, nothing about that is causal. 

“That…doesn’t matter,” you murmur. Wrong; it mattered a lot, to everyone and to you. You just hated to admit you weren’t as chill or casual as Drew was, how he made everything romantic seem friendly with you. 

When you look around, everyone is now staring at you pitifully. 

You didn’t like that. That pity stare. There’s nothing to be pity of. Bunch of people around the world right now might be having situation-ships too. Nothing to pity. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Yeah. That’s what you keep brainwashing yourself to believe. 

‘The girl that he bangs on his couch’. Yeah. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Your phone on the table lights up, and it reads bathroom. now. 

Drew. “Um, excuse me,” you stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

As you slowly get up and walk away, your friends weren’t very careful with the volume of their voice. You hear one of them calling you a loser, still hanging around just for a good dick to suck. 

That must be Janet. Her lonely ass must be jealous. 

But part of you knew she wasn’t wrong. You were a loser. The biggest loser to exist. The loser of losers, if that even is a thing. 

Casual. Your friends succeeded once again, in making you doubt everything with Drew. 

——

“Really boring, right?”

Drew pulls you in by the waist, a lazy smile on his lips as he stares down at you. He leans against the sink, making you stand between his legs. 

This restaurant had two bathrooms, each with their own sink inside. So, Drew took full advantage of that. 

“Hmm,” you hum carelessly. You didn’t want agree with him; you tried to make this evening nice, but his attitude towards your friends just weren’t helping. You keep your gaze around the collar of his jacket, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, playfulness still hinted in his words. His hand rub circles around your waist, as he tries to make eye contact with you, bending his head down to your level. 

You advert your gaze even more, now focusing on the bracelet around his wrist. Now that you think about it, he always has this on, since the day you got it for him. 

Was that casual to do? To keep the bracelet on at all times. 

“Look at me, would you?” Drew’s tone turns serious, and he pinches the side of your waist harshly.

You flinch, finally looking up at him. You meet his blue eyes, a mix of concern and something else that you can’t read. His raised eyebrows tell you that he wants you to talk, to tell him what’s on your mind. 

Should you? But, where do you even start? With his attitude tonight, or with your friend’s comments? Or with this whole casual thing, which is basically the beginning to it all.

Your lips pout on its own, resting your hands around his wrist. “That was uncalled for,” you murmur, looking down at his bracelet again. 

“What was?” Drew’s pinch one your waist is more soft this time, wanting to get the words out of you. 

“Doing that,” you say, playing with his chained bracelet. Shit. You’re gonna say it. You’re gonna call him out for his behavior. “Being rude to my friends.”

A scoff escapes Drew. He then brings his hand up to your face, forcing you to look up at him. Like second nature, you lean your face into the palm of his hand, waiting for him to explain himself. “Babe, your friends were the rude ones.”

The feeling inside your stomach is indescribable. The nickname sends you butterflies, but the words that follow don't. 

“How?” You ask, crossing your arms.  

He licks his lips, squinting his eyes at you. “It was so fucking obvious.”

“Was it?” 

“Yes- yes, it was,” Drew straightens his posture, taking his hands off you. The warmth of him is gone, now with the presence of a man trying to explain his reasonable case of being bratty. “They asked loaded questions to me this whole night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, thinking hard to the stuff they asked Drew. Shit. They were. Your friends didn’t even trying to hide their discontent with him tonight. 

“They hate me,” he adds on, “C’mon, I leave the table for like, a few minutes, and they talked shit, right?”

The way he looks at you; he challenges you to disagree with him. But you couldn’t; he was right. Your friends hate him, making you constantly doubt whatever this was with Drew. 

“Wasn’t all shit,” you lie, sending him the smallest smile ever. 

Drew makes the ‘tsk’ sound, shaking his head as he gives you a tired smile. “What they say then?” He asks, leaning back against the sink again. 

His eyes look at you in anticipation, biting down on his lips. 

You do not want to tell him what they said. It was rude, and although it was about Drew, it affected you more than it should have. The seeds of doubt are always planted by your friends, they never put you at ease with this relationship. 

You give him a lazy smile, snaking your arms around his neck. You lean in close to him, a seductive look in your eyes. “Does it matter? They talk shit, all they ever do.”

Drew’s lips slightly part, and he glances quickly down at your lips. A smile appears, “I see what you’re doing. You’re distracting me.”

You shrug lightly, before planting a small kiss on his jaw. “Is it working?”

You hear a chuckle escape from him, and his hand wraps around the back of your head. His eyes keep bouncing between your lips and eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear, “annoyingly so, you minx.”

Without another comment, Drew kisses you, soft and slow. 

You return the kiss, escalating into a whole make-out session. 

You hate how your body reacts to him; feeling a pool of wetness form between your legs. Fuck. 

Something pokes against your lower stomach, and you pull away from Drew. You glance down; he’s erected. “Shit,” you curse, as his hands slide down your body. He squeezes your ass, burying his face into your neck as he breathes the skin there. 

“I…I can’t go back to the table like this,” he murmurs, referring to his erection. 

You watch as his back rises and falls, through the sink mirror. Even with this thick white jacket he has on, you can tell his breathing has sped up. Your lips form a straight line, running your hands through his short hair. 

In the bathroom? Right in the middle of dinner? It was highly inappropriate. 

Wrapping your hands around his face, you pull him up to meet his eyes. He looks at you pleadingly, lips parted with drool on the corner of his lips. 

Fuck. How is one suppose to say no to that look? He looked as if he physically needed you; needed you to calm the… ‘growing’ in his pants. 

“Ten minutes,” you tell him, which immediately lights the spark in his eyes. He looks like a puppy! You smile at that thought, as he straightens himself, switching your positions. 

“Ten minutes? Enough for two rounds,” he teases, lifting you to sit on the sink. 

“No! One round,” you say, which gets cut off by Drew kissing you again. As much fun as two rounds sound, the longer you linger in here, the more obvious it is that the two of you are fucking. 

He groans into your mouth, spreading your legs to stand between them. His hands move fast into your dress, slipping your underwear off. The cold surface of the sink hits your thighs and pussy, adding to the heat growing within you. 

Drew trails his kisses down your neck, as your hands work on undoing his belt. 

You moan when he sucks on the sweet-spot around your neck, the belt dropping onto the floor with a hard thud. “Drew…” you moan out, messy hands tugging his hair as he continues to form hickeys around your neck. 

You want to run your hands around his stomach, chest, abs. But the jacket he has on prevents that, being zipped up the whole way. This jacket looked great on him, but would look better on the floor. 

Your hands fidget with the zipper, tugging with no luck of it moving. 

Drew pulls away from your neck, a chuckle escaping, “babe, gently.”

His hands overlaps yours, guiding you to pull the jacket zipper down. It reveals that he isn’t wearing anything inside; a feast to your eyes. “Is that why you refused to take this off?” You ask, referring to before the dinner started.

“I was invited last minute,” he shrugs the jacket off, as if it wasn’t his fault for the improvised outfit. 

“Right, but you weren’t invited,” you remind him, when he insisted on joining you when you were leaving, throwing on a random outfit nearby. You were busy putting your heels on, so you couldn’t see the moment when he got dressed. You didn’t even know he owned a jacket like this. 

“Mmhm,” his mind was elsewhere, attaching his lips to yours again. Sloppy and more lustful this time, as your hands wander around his body. It’s hot under your touch; his abs flexing as you run your hands over them. 

His hand grips onto your thigh, before moving closer to your heat. 

When the warmth of his fingers hit your pussy, you moan loudly into his mouth. 

“Shit,” he chuckles, “we’re in public, babe.”

The tip of your ears heat up too, from the embarrassment and realization that you’re in public, most likely having people hear you from the other side of the door. “Sorry,” you murmur, burying your face into his neck. 

Drew sticks two fingers into your hole, and starts thrusting at a faster speed than usual. Your breathing becomes uneven, as you try to tone down your moans. 

Drew wasn’t having it easy either, as you hear low grunts escaping him. “Fuck,” he curses, adding another digit, “you’re tight tonight.”

“Just fuck me already,” you manage to say, hands gripping on his biceps. Surely, this was enough foreplay, right? 

He chuckles again, this time at your impatience. He pulls his fingers out of you, his hands going to the back pocket of his jeans. 

The familiar gold packaging comes out, and his hands skillfully rip them open. 

“…couldn’t put on a shirt but bought a condom with you?” Laughter escapes you, as you watch him unzip his pants. 

He glances up at you, and when he sees you smiling ear-to-ear, he can’t help but match you, “wasn’t gonna show up totally unprepared, right?”

You laugh again; what an unbelievable guy. “Shirt’s optional but condom a must. Got it.”

Drew lets his pants and boxers hang around his knees, his cock standing proud. The sight immediately wipes the smile off your lips, gulping as you imagine it stuffed inside you. 

“The chances of fucking you wherever and whenever is high,” Drew says, wrapping the condom around his dick. 

He looks up at you, seeing your gaze fixed on his hard cock. A smirk helps themselves to his lips, as his hands tug on your waist. An idea flashes in his mind as he looks over your shoulder, at the big sink mirror. 

“Get off,” his voice brings you back, looking at him with confused eyes now. “C’mon, trust me.”

You let him bring you back onto the ground, before flipping you over. You see both your reflections in the mirror, your back hitting his chest, his dick poking your upper ass. 

When you meet his eyes through the mirror, you understand where this was going. 

“Watch yourself while I destroy your fucking pussy, hmm?”

Oh. Oh. Was it possible to be turned on by words? 

Drew lifts up your dress, revealing your wet core. You hold onto the sink for support, grip getting tighter when you feel Drew’s tip against your entrance. 

Then, he slips in, going deep until it’s completely nestled inside you. 

“Fuck,” you moan, glancing up at Drew. He sends you a smirk, enjoying this too. His hand goes to your stomach, and he lifts you backward, resting against his chest again. 

“Grip my hair, and keep your eyes open, alright?” His voice drops low, one hand moving to knead your breasts. 

You nod, bringing your hands behind you; one tugging gently around his hair, another around his arm that’s supporting you. 

He starts to thrust into you, rather roughly and fast. “Shit,” you moan, the sensation sending you to outer space. With his thick cock slamming into you, his hands roaming your body, your hands running through his short hair, it feels euphoric. 

Your eyes can barely stay open, as you look at the reflection in the mirror. Drew leaves a trail of sloppy kisses along your shoulder, which sends goosebumps to your skin. 

You watch as one of his hand slips between your thighs, starting to massage your pussy. “Fuck,” you moan, louder than you should be. You couldn’t help it, the pleasure was extraordinary. 

He kisses your earlobe, “i’know baby, but keep it down, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” it barely comes out, as the thrusts and massages to your core intensifies. The familiar knot in your stomach forms, informing you that you’re close. “Drew…”

His pace doesn’t stop, and when you lean your head back on his shoulder, he goes harder, “close?”

You nod with any energy left, and Drew uses his free hand to lift your face up again. He kisses your cheek, “use your words.”

You flutter your eyes open, looking at the two of you in the mirror. It was extremely hot, to see Drew filling you up, his hands all around you. The mirror starts to fog up a little, with all the grunting and pressure filling in here. 

“I’m coming,” you force out, and meet Drew’s gaze in the mirror. His blue eyes meet yours, seething with lust. 

You clench around him, your hand going around Drew’s, which is massaging your pussy. He stops massaging, and he intertwines your hands together. The stickiness doesn’t bother you; why should it?

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts to your g-spot growing sloppy. 

You tilt your head sideways, and you give him a quick kiss, which sends you over the edge. Your orgasm explodes inside of you, cum dripping out and over Drew’s cock. 

Body giving up, you lean completely against Drew, as he helps himself to his. His cock twitches, and you feel the familiar hot liquid filling up. 

Both of you are breathing heavily, euphoria radiating off your bodies. Fuck. This might just be one of the best fucks you’ve had with Drew. But in a public restroom? Who would’ve thought. 

“You’re so hot,” he compliments, before planting a small kiss on the side of your face. 

You giggle at that stupid comment, looking at him through the mirror; He’s got a playful smile on his lips, looking at you with smitten eyes. “You’re great with your words.”

He chuckles, his hands tapping against the side of your waist, signaling you to move. You use the energy left inside of you, helping him slip out. Leaning against the sink, you watch as Drew grabs tissues to wipe your core, then throwing his condom away. 

After that, he grabs your underwear on the floor. You get yourself dressed, him doing the same thing. 

“Look, only…only seven minutes passed,” Drew comments with a sly smile on his lips, showing you his watch. 

You roll your eyes, your lips betraying you by forming a smile. “Cocky much?” 

He puts his jacket back on, the last piece of clothing. “Well, you've definitely enjoyed the taste of it.”

You hit his chest playfully, his remark sending butterflies to your stomach. He laughs, zipping his jacket only halfway. Your eyebrows furrow at his exposed chest that pierces through the top; and you reach for the zipper. 

Drew stays in place, and you feel his gaze on the top of your head, his hot breath hitting you. You ignore the tension that pulls; when you’re done, you pat his chest, “all done, buddy.”

“‘Buddy’?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, eyes squinting down at you. 

You send him a soft smile, seeing him glance down at your lips. “What?”

“Call me buddy one more time,” his hands wrap around your waist, and he leans closer to you, “and you’ll get it.”

His dirty and challenging tone sends shivers down your spine, something you find yourself liking a bit too much. The pit of your stomach yells at you at how hypocritical Drew was being right now, but you ignore it. 

And just because it’s fun, you lean into his ear, and whisper, “best buddy ever.”

Tickles are sent to the side of your body, making you jump and melt into his arms. You laugh uncontrollably; Drew knew you were ticklish, using it to his full advantage. 

“Stop! Stop!” You yell between laughter, your legs ready to give up. 

“Don’t call me that then,” he stops tickling you, grip on you tight to make sure you don’t fall. He kisses the tears of laughter from the corner of your eyes, “I don’t like it.”

“Noted,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. You glance down at his lips, and he does the same to yours. 

Drew gives you the look; he wants to kiss you. 

And you let him, closing your eyes and feeling his lips against yours. 

Is it still casual if you kissed me like it’s the last time you ever will? You hate how this thought appears in your mind again, haunting you. 

You pull away, the pressure of it getting overwhelming. “Let’s head back, yeah?”

“We have to?” His eyes stay glued to your lips. “You know, We could…we could just leave.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “no!”

“Say you got plans tomorrow morning,” he shrugs, “I’ll say it for you, if you can’t-”

You cross your arms, looking up at him. “Why would I leave early?”

Drew parts his lips, and he brings his hand up to your elbow. He rubs the area there in soft circles, a playful look in his eyes, “…grab some froyo?”

You drop your arms, looking at him disappointedly. When he saw that, he hurriedly adds, “and I got errands to run. Really.”

You contemplate in your mind about this; ditching this dinner to hang out privately with Drew? Yeah, that sounded like something fun. It must be better than staying awkwardly, having your friends judge Drew. 

Casual. Casual, casual, casual. Some casual froyo with Drew, and maybe ending up with sex in his dorm room. 

Yeah. Seemed like things people whose ‘casual’ would do. 

“Fine. You’re treating me though,” you unlock the door, walking out the bathroom. 

“I always treat you,” you hear him murmur behind you, following closely behind as you two walk back to the table. 

You interrupt the conversation they’re having, grabbing your purse from your seat. They look at your questionably, before their gaze lands sourly on Drew behind you. “i’ve got something, tomorrow morning, so we’re heading off,” you try sounding apologetic, “sorry to leave this early.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Lucy glances between the two of you, “text us when you get home.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize again, before your friends wave goodbye to you. You don’t miss the hateful looks they leave on Drew, as they tell you to take care until the next time you guys meet. 

After that, you and Drew leave the restaurant, letting the doorman do his job of getting a taxi. 

A warmth around your hand catches you by surprise; Drew holds your hand, pulling you closer to him. You look down at the holding of hands; then back up at him. He’s staring down at his phone, scrolling through his insta feed. 

Holding hands. Something very casual to do, apparently. 

“What are you watching?” You ask, leaning on his shoulder. 

He laughs, showing you the screen. It’s a video of a monkey pointing towards the glass, which has different play-doughs lined along it. 

You don’t get the humor in it, but you smile, because it makes Drew smile. 

The two of you stand there, watching different posts on his phone until the taxi arrives. 

Your mind finds it strange how ‘casual’ you two are. 

Because, in the bottom of your heart, you weren’t so sure if this was casual anymore. Along the way, the lines of ‘no attachment’ seemed to have blurred. Blurred to the point of no return. 

-------------------------------

word count: 4.1k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: goddamn, i would fall for this toxic relationship too T_T

sry for not posting lately, i got very busy lately! i promise you, flashing lights 6 & not a big deal pt4 is coming sooooon. but hope you enjoyed this extra, and also, thx for blowing up the halloween special, was NOT expecting that. thank you sm! your lovely comments inspire me to write these fics!

btw, watched obx s4, and the ending broke me T_T like tffff

elevator | other | more of casual!drew

[mingiatz]

Y/N, a soft-spoken third-year physical therapy major, is assigned to assist the university’s elite fencing club — a team full of campus heartthrobs, including the famously composed captain, Seonghwa. She’s used to being overlooked, but the more time she spends with the team, the more they come to appreciate her quiet strength — especially Seonghwa, who begins to notice things about her no one else ever has.

⭐️Pairing: Park Seonghwa (ATEEZ) × Plus-Size!Reader

🌅 Trope(s): Slow Burn Romance, Mutual Pining, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Sunshine × Stoic Dynamic

🍡Genre:Romance | Angst | Comfort | Emotional Growth

🦢Featuring: All ATEEZ members as Seonghwa’s teammates, Supportive single father character, Original side characters

Masterlist

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If someone had told Y/N at the start of her third year that she’d be spending her afternoons in a fencing gym surrounded by Seoul’s most intense athletes, she would’ve laughed quietly and gone back to her anatomy notes. But here she was. Assigned. Officially.

“Kim Y/N,” Professor Lee said, his tone clipped and efficient as always. “You’re being placed with the university fencing club for your fieldwork rotation.”

Y/N blinked. “The fencing club?” She had expected a quiet sports therapy clinic, or maybe track and field at most — something that let her blend into the background. Fencing, with ist expensive gear and meticulous elegance, felt a little… dramatic. Professor Lee didn’t look up from his tablet. “They’ve had too many minor injuries lately. Shin splints. Shoulder strain. One possible stress fracture. I want your focus to be on preventative treatment, form analysis, and basic recovery support. You’ll report to their coach, but consider yourself responsible for monitoring their health.”

Y/N nodded slowly, already anxious. “Yes, sir.” He glanced at her briefly. “You’re capable, Kim. That’s why I’m sending you. You’re one of my best students.”

That warmed her, even if it didn’t erase the nervous buzz in her chest.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “Survive them.”

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The fencing gym was colder than she expected. Concrete floors, pristine white gear racks, gleaming metallic weapons lined up like instruments. There was an air of precision to everything — measured, structured, clean. She felt like a splash of softness in a world of edges.

Her reflection passed over the wall-length mirror, and she couldn’t help but pause briefly. Her hoodie was oversized, her leggings stretched comfortably around her hips and thighs. She was plus-size, and she didn’t hide it. Not anymore. She knew her body. It wasn’t a problem to be solved — it was a tool, strong and capable. But walking into a room full of lean athletes? Yeah. It still made her stomach flutter.

“Hello?”

The voice startled her.

A tall guy with sandy brown hair popped out from behind the equipment closet, blinking at her like he wasn’t sure she was real.

“Hi,” Y/N said, voice soft but steady. “I’m Y/N. Physical therapy assistant? I was told to report here today.”

“OH!” the guy beamed. “You’re the new PT? Awesome!”

He jogged toward her, absolutely radiating sunshine and limbs. “I’m Wooyoung. One of the sabre guys. You’ll meet the rest soon. We’re just finishing warm-ups.”

Y/N smiled shyly. “Nice to meet you.”

As he turned to call over his shoulder, more bodies spilled into the room — tall, sweat-slick, dressed in warm-up gear or half-gear. They looked like they stepped out of a sports anime. All handsome. All chaotic.

“I found her!” Wooyoung announced. “She’s real and she’s cute.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned, but he didn’t say it in a creepy way. More like a giddy welcome.

The group turned. Yunho, Mingi, Jongho, Yeosang, San, Hongjoong…

And finally, Seonghwa.

She didn’t know their names yet, but she’d remember him.

Seonghwa didn’t say anything at first. He just stood near the corner of the gym, towel over his neck, dark eyes scanning her quietly. Not judging. Not cold. But observant — like he was assessing her the same way he did an opponent before a match.

Y/N’s eyes dropped to her clipboard. She was used to stares. This one didn’t sting. It just made her straighten her spine a little more.

The coach — an older woman with sharp eyes and the posture of a general — entered from the back office.

“Ah, you’re the PT student?” she asked. “Kim Y/N?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“She’s your new guardian angel,” the coach told the boys. “I want fewer sprained ankles this semester. That means listen to her. Stretch properly. And if you’re in pain, don’t lie about it.”

There were a few groans of protest.

“Y/N, I’ll leave you with them. They’ll show you around.”

With that, the coach disappeared.

Y/N turned back toward the group. Most of them looked relaxed, interested, maybe even a little curious.

Seonghwa, however, still hadn’t said a word.

Wooyoung clapped his hands together. “Okay! Let’s do intros.”

One by one, they introduced themselves — each with their own flair. Mingi gave her a shy wave. San offered a bright smile. Yeosang nodded politely. Jongho smirked and said, “Don’t worry, we’re not as scary as we look.”

She laughed softly.

Then Seonghwa stepped forward.

He didn’t smile, but he bowed slightly — formal, respectful.

“Seonghwa,” he said. “Captain.”

And then stepped back again.

Y/N nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

It wasn’t rude. Just… careful. Like he was pulling his emotions through a filter.

By the end of the first hour, Y/N was already scribbling notes on posture imbalances and muscle tension. They were fast, sharp, and coordinated — but she noticed subtle things. The way San favored his right leg when pivoting. The tension in Jongho’s wrist during a lunge. The way Mingi pushed through tight shoulders even though his face stayed calm.

She liked observing. It made her feel useful.

During water break, she quietly made her way toward a bench in the corner to go over her notes. Most of the team scattered for water or gear adjustments.

Except one.

“Hey.”

Yeosang sat down next to her.

She looked up, surprised but not uncomfortable. “Hi.”

“Just wanted to say I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply. “We usually get guys who treat us like lab rats. You’re different.”

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks. I just want to help.”

“You will.” He stood, gave her a two-finger salute, and headed back toward the mat.

That was when she heard it.

Whispers. Two voices. Male. From across the gym, maybe near the door.

“Is that really the new assistant?”

“She’s… not what I pictured.”

“Not sure she’ll keep up, honestly. Doesn’t exactly look like a PT major.”

Y/N froze.

It wasn’t new. These things never were. But still — it hurt. Always did.

She kept her head down, focused on her clipboard, pretending she hadn’t heard a thing.

But someone else had.

Seonghwa’s head turned subtly in their direction, his jaw tightening for a split second.

His gaze shifted toward Y/N. She hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t said a word.

But her shoulders were a little more square. Her focus too focused.

He frowned to himself.

It had been just over two weeks since Y/N started with the fencing club.

The routine was settling in now — warm-ups, assisted stretching, post-practice cooldowns, and a few taped ankles here and there. She’d even started creating personalized rehab sheets for each member, color-coded and stored in a little clipboard folder she carried like armor.

The guys had warmed up to her quickly. San always greeted her with an over-the-top bow. Mingi brought her a banana milk from the vending machine every few days. Wooyoung tried (and failed) to make her laugh with cheesy fencing puns. Jongho sat near her between rounds, sometimes just in silence, which she appreciated.

Even Seonghwa was changing.

Slowly. Barely noticeably.

But she saw it.

At first, he barely spoke to her. Now, he thanked her softly when she handed him an ice pack. He listened carefully when she reminded him to switch out shoes with better arch support. And once, after a particularly brutal training session, he said, “You always know exactly what we’ll need before we ask.”

She had blinked at him then, surprised.

He hadn’t smiled. But his voice was warm.

That was the thing with Seonghwa. He didn’t speak carelessly. Every word held intention — like the way he moved on the mat. Clean. Controlled.

And yet, he had started glancing toward her more.

Lingering just a beat longer when their eyes met.

He probably didn’t realize it.

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One late Thursday practice, she crouched beside San, guiding his leg through a slow hamstring stretch.

“I keep telling you,” she said gently, “if you don’t hold it long enough, it won’t do anything.”

“But it burns,” he whined.

“That’s the point.”

“Can’t we just ice it and pretend we did this part?”

She smiled faintly. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

Behind her, she felt a quiet shift in the air — a pair of eyes watching.

She looked up.

Seonghwa was across the gym, towel slung around his neck, half-finished wrapping his hands. He wasn’t training. Just… observing.

Not in a critical way. Not like those whispering voices in the hallways or the ones that lived in the corners of her memory. His gaze wasn’t cruel.

It was… curious.

Then he caught her looking, and — to her surprise — gave her the smallest nod.

Her stomach fluttered.

Later that day, Y/N stopped by the campus convenience store to grab dinner before her night lecture.

Two girls from the physical therapy department were standing near the fridge, giggling over something on a phone.

She didn’t mean to overhear. She really didn’t.

But her name was mentioned. Twice.

“Is that the girl who got placed with the fencing team?”

“Yeah. Y/N. She’s smart, but…”

“She’s sweet, though. But like… I don’t get why they picked her. There were better options.”

“She’s not exactly athletic-looking.”

“I’d die if Seonghwa had to look at me like that every day.”

Y/N stayed frozen in place.

The hum of the fridge vibrated against her palm. Her mouth had gone dry.

She turned away before they noticed her, leaving without buying anything.

The next afternoon, at practice, she kept to herself. Quiet. Focused. Polite. But inwardly, the voices gnawed.

She wasn’t ashamed of her body. Not anymore. But she was tired of having to prove it deserved respect. Tired of strangers assuming kindness meant weakness. That softness meant incompetence.

The guys didn’t notice at first. They were too busy running footwork drills, sweat glistening under the harsh gym lights.

But one of them did.

Yeosang walked up to her during cooldowns.

“You okay today?” he asked.

She blinked. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’re quieter than usual.”

She shrugged. “Just tired.”

He nodded, not pushing. But he glanced toward the others and said something under his breath before jogging back to join Jongho.

What Y/N didn’t know was that Seonghwa arrived late that evening, having stayed behind to speak with the team’s advisor. He hadn’t seen the practice, but he came back in time to hear Jongho explaining something to the others — low and urgent.

Seonghwa didn’t interrupt. He just stood in the doorway and listened.

When Yeosang mentioned what he heard from the girls, something in Seonghwa’s expression shifted.

Not dramatically. Just a quiet narrowing of his eyes. A muscle ticking in his jaw.

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The following week, it happened.

Y/N was walking across campus, clipboard in hand, when she saw the same two girls sitting on a bench, giggling with their phones again.

And standing right in front of them was Seonghwa.

He wasn’t yelling. He didn’t raise his voice.

But his posture was sharp. Clear. Icy calm.

“I heard what you said about our assistant,” he said. “I’d recommend keeping opinions like that to yourselves. Especially when they have no basis in fact.”

The girls looked stunned. One of them opened her mouth to argue, but Seonghwa simply tilted his head slightly.

“Y/N is one of the most competent, dedicated people I’ve worked with. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be there. Understood?”

They Both nodded, flustered.

He walked away without another word.

Y/N hadn’t meant to watch. She hadn’t expected it.

But something in her chest warmed — tight, painful, grateful. Not because she needed saving.

But because he didn’t do it for her.

He did it because it was right.

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That night at practice, she didn’t mention it. Neither did he.

But when she handed him a towel after cooldowns, his fingers brushed hers — gentle, firm — and he held her gaze just a second longer than necessary.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” she asked, heartbeat too loud in her ears.

“For being here.”

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After everyone left, Y/N lingered in the gym. Coach had asked her to organize some old supplies.

She didn’t hear the door open.

“Need help?”

She turned.

Seonghwa stood there, in a loose tee and joggers, hair still damp from his shower.

She blinked. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

He crossed the room and knelt beside her, helping sort through the resistance bands and foam rollers.

They didn’t speak much.

But it was a comfortable silence.

She found herself glancing at his hands — long fingers, careful grip.

He noticed her looking and raised an eyebrow, teasing.

“What?”

“Just wondering if you always organize by size and color.”

He gave the smallest smile. “Doesn’t everyone?”

She laughed — actually laughed — and for a moment, it felt like the room softened around them.

When they finished, she stood to stretch.

“Thank you,” she said.

This time, she meant it. And not just for the boxes.

Seonghwa hesitated, then looked at her — really looked.

“You’re good at this, Y/N.”

She swallowed. “You didn’t think I would be at first.”

“No,” he admitted. “But not because of anything personal. I just… don’t like trusting new people.”

She nodded, understanding more than he realized.

“Well,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, she picked up her clipboard and left.

Behind her, Seonghwa stared at the door a long moment — longer than necessary — before slowly exhaling through his nose.

The gym rang with cheers.

Blades down, helmets off — the fencing team had pulled off a narrow but satisfying win in their final match of the regional tournament. Y/N watched from the sidelines, clapping hard as the referee raised Seonghwa’s arm in victory. His chest rose and fell with fast, even breaths. His jaw was set with focus even in the moment of celebration.

Only when he turned toward the team did he smile — not wide, not boastful, just a small upturn of lips. But it was real. And when he looked past the team and met her eyes across the court, she swore it grew just a bit more.

The team had planned a casual dinner afterward. Just the usual — a favorite BBQ spot not far from campus.

Y/N was about to follow them straight there when Coach Han — the team’s co-coach and the only female staff member — caught her by the arm.

“You should go home and get changed,” Coach said with a kind smile. “We’ll take a bit to settle in.”

“Oh… is that okay?”

“Of course.” Coach’s grin widened. “It’s a celebration. Let the boys see what you look like outside the gym.”

Y/N laughed, a little nervously. “I think they’ve already seen plenty of sweat and ponytails.”

Coach leaned closer, teasing. “Exactly why I’m telling you to surprise them.”

Y/N didn’t usually fuss about appearances. She liked what she liked — oversized hoodies, clean sneakers, natural looks. But today felt different. She didn’t want to impress anyone. She just wanted to feel like herself, outside of tape rolls and pressure charts. So she showered. She carefully dried her hair and let it hang loose, the waves falling heavy and long down her back. She put on a soft, flowy cream top and dark jeans that hugged comfortably. A touch of blush. Lip balm. Nothing dramatic. When she checked the mirror, she blinked.

She looked… soft. Open. Still herself, just brighter.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up her phone and left.

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The restaurant was already buzzing when she arrived.

The team had taken over the back half of the patio — all laughter and chopsticks and clinking soda bottles. Someone had started grilling already. She stepped through the gate. And the laughter stopped.

For a moment, silence settled over the table like a flipped switch.

She scanned their faces — all of them staring, wide-eyed.

Mingi was the first to recover. “Holy—Y/N?”

“Whoa,” said San, mouth half open.

“You look…” Jongho trailed off, blinking like he forgot how to finish a sentence.

Yeosang smiled slowly. “Different.”

Even Wooyoung whistled, holding a chopstick like a mic. “Okay, transformation queen!”

Y/N flushed. “It’s just a shirt.”

“You own that shirt,” San said, waving her over. “Come sit. We saved you a spot.”

As she slid into the open seat — right across from Seonghwa — Mingi leaned closer to her with wide eyes.

“Your hair,” he said, genuine awe in his voice. “It looks really nice like that. Didn’t know it was so long.”

Y/N’s flush deepened. “Thank you.”

Seonghwa, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her, added quietly, “It suits you. A lot.”

She met his eyes briefly, heart thudding. “Thanks.”

Coach Han joined them then, sitting down with a beer and grinning. “I told her to clean up a bit. Doesn’t she look nice?”

Mingi nodded. “You’re gonna give us a heart attack, showing up like this.”

“You all are dramatic,” she muttered, sipping water and trying not to melt into her chair.

“Only because you never let us compliment you,” Yeosang added. “We’re just surprised. You usually try to blend in.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Is that a bad thing?”

Seonghwa’s voice came again, calm and even. “Not bad. But sometimes, it’s okay to take up space.”

She looked at him. He didn’t look away this time.

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Dinner passed in waves of laughter and food. San did impressions. Wooyoung reenacted their match like it was a martial arts film. Coach Han teased them all mercilessly, especially Seonghwa, who bore it with a faint smile. But Y/N noticed something else too.

Whenever someone else leaned a little too close to her, offered to fill her cup, or bumped shoulders with her in the tight seating arrangement — Seonghwa’s posture shifted. He never said a word. Never glared.

But he was aware. Always aware.

And she noticed that now.

The evening wound down with full bellies and sleepy eyes. As they exited the restaurant, Y/N pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders and turned toward the street.

“I’ll head back,” she said.

“Alone?” Mingi asked.

She nodded. “It’s not far.”

Wooyoung stood. “Nope.”

“Not happening,” Jongho added.

Seonghwa was already at her side. “We’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“We want to,” Yeosang said.

And that was that.

They walked slowly through the quiet streets, the cool breeze brushing her hair behind her. The sound of their sneakers on pavement was steady and calm. At one point, San offered her his jacket, even though she wasn’t cold. She wore it anyway, mostly to make him smile.

Y/N felt full — not just from dinner, but from something deeper. From being seen. Heard. Not for what she could do or what she looked like, but just… as herself. The guys were halfway teasing each other again when she looked toward her house — and froze.

A voice, muffled but desperate, rang out.

“Help! Someone—!”

Her father.

Y/N didn’t think.

She ran.

Seonghwa didn’t consider himself someone who was easily rattled. He prided himself on being calm, measured, the kind of leader who didn’t shout or overreact. His friends sometimes teased him about being the dad of the group, but he didn’t mind. It was easier to keep things together when you stayed composed. But the moment he heard that voice yelling for help — muffled through Y/N’s front door — something twisted hard in his chest. Y/N reacted first, bolting toward the sound without a word. The rest of them hesitated for only a beat before following.

By the time Seonghwa stepped inside the small, warm house, the others were already in motion. He froze at the sight in front of him.

A man — older, maybe in his fifties, wearing a soft flannel shirt — was on the floor beside an overturned wheelchair, trying to push himself upright. His face was flushed with the effort and the clear, stinging shame of the moment.

Y/N was kneeling beside him, her voice trembling. “Appa, are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” her father said, his voice strained with embarrassment. “Just fell. I was trying to reach the damn light switch and—”

“Don’t move, okay? Just—let me help.”

Seonghwa stepped forward quietly, joining the others as they gently lifted the man and righted the wheelchair. He didn’t say anything at first, didn’t want to overwhelm or embarrass Y/N’s father further. But when the man was seated again and seemed stable, Seonghwa crouched beside him.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt, sir?” he asked softly.

The man looked at him and blinked, startled — maybe by Seonghwa’s gentle tone, maybe by the fact that they were all still there. Then, he sighed and gave a small shake of the head. “Just my pride, son.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, standing upright and brushing hair from her face. Her hands were trembling, Seonghwa noticed.

Her father looked around at the boys who had crowded into the small living room and laughed lightly. “Didn’t know my daughter came with a full army. You boys always this well-behaved?”

“Yes, sir,” Mingi said immediately, then grinned. “Mostly.”

“I don’t know about Wooyoung,” San added, earning a shove.

Y/N’s father chuckled. “Thank you all. I mean it.”

They stayed for a while. Y/N brought her father water while the rest of them gathered around, asking gentle questions and making sure everything was okay. Her father warmed up quickly, joking with them and deflecting the embarrassment with charm.

Seonghwa watched Y/N the whole time.

She was trying to smile. Trying to stay composed.

But when she slipped out onto the small balcony fifteen minutes later, quiet and barely noticed, he followed.

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The air was cooler outside. The sky stretched deep and dark above, with soft light leaking from a distant window. Y/N stood by the railing, arms crossed over her chest. Her long hair moved slightly in the breeze. Seonghwa stepped out and closed the sliding door behind him.

“I’m okay,” she said without turning.

“I know,” he replied. “But… I thought you might want some company anyway.”

That made her glance at him. Her eyes looked tired.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” she said quietly. “I just… needed a second.”

“You’re not a burden.”

She didn’t respond.

They stood in silence for a moment before she spoke again. “I should’ve told you all about my dad before.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s not something you owe anyone.”

She shook her head slowly. “I wanted to. I just… didn’t know how.”

Seonghwa leaned against the railing beside her, close but not touching. His eyes stayed on the horizon, giving her space.

“I guess you’re wondering what happened,” she murmured, barely audible.

“Only if you want to tell me.”

She was quiet for a while. Then: “There was an accident. Three years ago. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit my dad’s car on his way home from picking up my mom from work. She… she didn’t make it.”

Seonghwa turned his head toward her, but didn’t speak. He could see her lower lip trembling.

“My dad was in a coma for three weeks. When he woke up, they told us he’d never walk again. That’s… why I chose PT. I wanted to understand. To help him. To help other people like him.”

“Y/N…” Seonghwa’s voice caught.

She shook her head again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”

“You didn’t.”

She looked up at him, skeptical.

“You didn’t,” he repeated softly. “You trusted me. That’s different.”

Her expression cracked at that. She smiled, just barely, but it was real. “You’re not like I expected you to be.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think so.”

She turned back to the railing, her voice more even now. “Sometimes I feel like people only see me a certain way. Like… like I’m not allowed to be soft or emotional because of how I look. Or like I have to be extra competent to make up for it.”

Seonghwa felt something clench in his chest.

“I noticed that,” he said. “How hard you work. How quiet you are when people say the wrong things.”

Her head turned toward him again, eyes wide. “You noticed?”

“I always notice.”

It was quiet again for a while. The wind shifted, brushing past them like a whisper.

Seonghwa looked at her, the curve of her cheek, the slight movement of her lips as she breathed in and out.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that,” he said softly. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Y/N looked back at him, and there was something in her eyes now — not guardedness, but something else. Something like warmth.

“You’re not what I expected either,” she said.

Seonghwa gave a faint smile. “Is that a good thing?”

This time, she laughed. A real, quiet laugh. “I think so.”

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Seonghwa wasn’t sure when it started — the way his eyes kept searching for her.

It wasn’t dramatic. He didn’t sit around writing poetry in the air or daydream through fencing drills like a lovesick fool. But she was there — somehow always in his periphery, like the quiet rhythm of his day. She’d be at the edge of the gym, crouched beside a fencer taping their knee or adjusting a brace, completely focused and serious. Or she’d walk into the campus café between classes, earphones in, eyes distant, and Seonghwa would catch himself wondering what she was listening to. She wore the same hoodie far too often. And she always carried too many books. And her hair, when she left it down, was a kind of quiet magic that made something in his chest tighten. He didn’t say anything about it, of course. He just noticed.

And, apparently, so did his friends.

“You’re staring again,” San said, his voice sing-song as he popped a grape into his mouth during lunch at the dorm.

“I’m not,” Seonghwa replied without looking up from his notes.

Mingi leaned over the table. “You are. And you’ve been nicer lately. Like, freakishly nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

“No, hyung,” Wooyoung chimed in, “you’re respectful. Polite. But lately? You’ve been… soft.”

“I’m not—”

“Yesterday,” Yeosang interrupted, “you tied her shoelace without even blinking.”

“I was being helpful,” Seonghwa muttered.

“And when she thanked you, you smiled like she’d just solved world peace,” Hongjoong added with a teasing grin.

Seonghwa groaned. “Can’t I just be decent without it turning into an interrogation?”

“Sure,” Jongho said innocently. “Except you’re only ‘decent’ when she’s around.”

They all laughed as Seonghwa leaned back in his chair, covering his face with one hand. Still, he didn’t deny it.

That same evening, in the quiet of her living room, Y/N sat across from her father while folding laundry.

“You’ve been smiling more,” her dad noted casually, sipping his tea.

She glanced up. “Have I?”

He nodded. “Don’t think I don’t notice these things. I might be old, but I’m observant.”

Y/N laughed softly and rolled her eyes.

“So,” he said, resting the mug on the table, “is there a secret boyfriend I should know about?”

Her hand froze mid-fold.

“What? No. I—”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m serious! There’s no one.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

And that’s when it happened.

She pictured someone.

Not her idealized version of a boyfriend, not some vague daydream… but an actual person.

Park Seonghwa.

His sharp eyes, the way he smoothed his hair back when he was focused, the warmth in his voice when he spoke softly — especially to her.

She blinked quickly and looked down, heart picking up pace.

Her dad noticed. “You hesitated.”

“I didn’t,” she lied.

He smirked. “You totally did. Is it that tall one who always calls me ‘sir’ like we’re in the military?”

“That’s all of them,” she said weakly, cheeks heating.

He chuckled. “Just be careful with your heart, sweetheart.”

She looked up. “I am.”

But as she returned to folding laundry, the image of Seonghwa — with his calm voice and unreadable eyes — wouldn’t leave her alone.

It was a slow Saturday morning when Y/N heard the knock.

Not the loud, insistent kind — just a light rhythm against the door, polite and familiar. She opened it with a curious smile and found herself face to face with Mingi, holding a paper bag and grinning like he’d won the lottery.

“Delivery for the prettiest physical therapy major on campus,” he said, stepping back dramatically to reveal the rest of the team behind him.

Yunho waved cheerfully. “We brought food!”

Wooyoung peeked out from behind Jongho. “And ourselves. Hope you don’t mind.”

She blinked, momentarily stunned. “You guys… came all the way here?”

“We figured it was time we visited properly,” San added. “You always walk us home.”

Y/N’s father peeked into the hallway from the living room, raising an eyebrow. “Your entire team’s here?”

“Yes, sir,” Hongjoong said, stepping forward and offering a respectful bow. “Thank you for letting us stop by.”

Her dad chuckled. “Guess I should’ve dressed nicer.”

The living room was cozy, the couch too small for all of them, but no one seemed to mind.

The boys settled in like they belonged there, bringing energy and laughter into the quiet apartment. Y/N made tea, her father told stories, and somehow the place felt lighter.

“You raised a good one,” Jongho said to her dad at one point, gesturing toward Y/N with a nod of admiration.

Her dad smiled. “She raised me too, in her own way.”

Seonghwa sat at the edge of the couch, quiet but attentive. He didn’t insert himself into the stories like Wooyoung or tease like Mingi. He just listened — to Y/N’s father, to the way she laughed, to the rhythm of the people in this home.

He noticed things. The framed photos on the wall. The careful layout of furniture that allowed easy access for the wheelchair. The pair of slippers by the door that didn’t belong to either of them, probably saved for guests.

After lunch, when some of the boys helped clean up and others played card games on the rug, Y/N slipped outside onto the small balcony.

Seonghwa followed a few minutes later, careful not to make the door creak too much behind him.

She leaned on the railing, long hair tied back loosely, the afternoon sun catching in her lashes.

“You’re quiet today,” she said without looking at him.

“I’m just taking it all in,” Seonghwa replied.

She glanced at him then, eyes soft. “Thank you for coming.”

He shook his head. “We wanted to. You matter to us.”

Something about the way he said you made her heart stutter.

“I’ve never really had friends like this,” she admitted. “Not the kind that show up without asking for anything. Not the kind that make everything feel… easier.”

He nodded. “I get that.”

They stood in comfortable silence. Then, Seonghwa shifted slightly toward her.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” he said softly. “So at home.”

Y/N blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Just… you’re usually focused. At the gym, you’re always watching, helping, managing things. But here, you seem lighter. You laugh more.”

She smiled faintly. “Maybe because I’m not on duty.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe this is just closer to who you are.”

Their eyes met — and stayed there for just a moment too long.

Later, as the others gathered to leave, Y/N’s father called out softly, “Seonghwa, could you stay back for a second?”

He looked startled, but nodded, offering a small bow to the others as they filed out the door.

Y/N paused near the hallway, unsure if she should leave them alone.

Her father gave her a look. “It’s alright, sweetheart.”

She disappeared into her room, but left the door cracked open.

Seonghwa moved toward the armchair, unsure of what to expect.

“I wanted to thank you,” her father said gently. “You were the first one to follow her outside that night. She doesn’t talk about that moment, but I know it meant something.”

Seonghwa blinked. “She… she needed someone. I didn’t do anything special.”

“Being there is special,” her father said. “Especially for someone like her.”

He sipped his tea. “I’ve seen how you look at her.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened. “I—sir, I—”

Her father chuckled. “Relax. I’m not mad. I just wanted to tell you… if you ever do decide to be honest about your feelings, just don’t hurt her. That’s all I care about.”

“I would never,” Seonghwa said quietly, but firmly.

“I believe you.”

Then her father leaned back in his chair. “She sees the world differently. And it’s taken a long time for her to feel safe again.”

Seonghwa nodded. “I’ll do right by her. Even if I’m just… someone on the sidelines.”

“She already notices you,” he said with a knowing smile. “She just doesn’t believe someone like you would notice back.”

Seonghwa swallowed hard.

He had no idea how to respond to that.

But later that night, as he walked back to the dorms with the guys, he kept hearing those words in his head.

She just doesn’t believe someone like you would notice back.

And he knew then, with quiet certainty, that he would do whatever it took to prove her wrong — not with grand gestures, but with presence, patience, and softness.

Y/N never thought of herself as someone who got noticed.

She was the type who blended in. Who walked to class with her earbuds in, who sat near the back but always took the best notes, who knew professors by name but was often forgotten in crowded hallways.

But lately… things had changed.

And it had everything to do with him.

It started small.

Seonghwa would wait for her after fencing practice — not obviously, just hovering near the entrance with his gym bag slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the hallway until they landed on her. If her backpack looked too heavy, he’d offer to carry it without a word. If her hair was falling into her face while she checked her planner, he’d gently tuck a strand behind her ear before saying goodbye.

She wasn’t used to people like him noticing people like her.

And the campus? They noticed too.

It started with looks. Lingering glances. Quiet nudges.

And then, the whispers.

“Is that Park Seonghwa?”

“With her? No way.”

“They’ve been together a lot lately…”

“Maybe she’s helping him study?”

“Or maybe it’s a dare or something.”

“She’s not even— I mean… he’s so cold and she’s just—?”

Y/N turned the corner too quickly and walked right into a group of girls outside the café. They stopped talking the second they saw her. One of them flinched like she’d been caught red-handed. Another looked away awkwardly.

Y/N didn’t say anything.

She kept walking. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. Her throat was tight. She didn’t need to hear the rest — she’d heard enough versions of it her whole life.

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That afternoon, Seonghwa found her sitting alone on a bench near the library, eyes fixed on a spot in the distance.

“You didn’t wait for me after class,” he said gently.

She blinked. “Sorry. I had something to do.”

He studied her carefully. “Did something happen?”

“No. I’m just tired.”

“You’ve never lied to me before,” he said quietly.

She looked down at her lap. “It’s nothing worth talking about.”

He didn’t push. Just sat down beside her, close enough to share space but not crowd it.

“I’ll carry your bag today,” he offered.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said. “But I want to.”

She exhaled. “Why?”

He glanced at her. “Because you’re important.”

Her chest ached.

Later that evening, she sat with her dad during dinner. She didn’t tell him what she’d overheard. She didn’t want to worry him. But she asked softly, “Do people ever surprise you?”

He smiled. “All the time.”

“In good ways?”

“In every way.”

She nodded. “I think… I don’t know what to make of Seonghwa.”

Her dad looked up. “You don’t think he’s sincere?”

“I think he’s too good to be true.”

Her dad reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Sometimes, sweetheart, good people just… are. You don’t need to earn it. You just need to let them stay.”

Seonghwa had never cared much about what people said about him.

He wasn’t oblivious — he just didn’t find value in chasing approval. His role on the fencing team, his academics, his responsibilities… they came first. Always. And if that meant people called him distant, uptight, or cold — so be it.

He didn’t need to be understood.

At least, that’s what he used to believe.

Until Y/N.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. Cloudy sky, leaves just starting to scatter on the pavement. Seonghwa had stayed back at the gym to finish up, and now he walked across campus alone, earbuds tucked in, hoodie pulled over his head.

He was heading toward the café when he paused at the outdoor vending machines to grab a drink.

That’s when he heard it.

“I swear, he used to scare me.”

“He still kinda does. That stare? It’s deadly.”

“But he’s been different lately.”

“Yeah. I saw him walking with that PT assistant again. The plus-size one with the long hair.”

“Oh, her.”

“Why is she always with him now?”

“Right? I mean… the guy’s literally a Greek statue.”

“I thought he didn’t even talk to people outside the team.”

“He used to be like… totally frozen. That’s why they call him the ice prince.”

“Well, guess someone finally thawed him.”

Laughter.

Seonghwa didn’t move.

He stood there, hand clenched around a can of cold tea, staring at the buttons on the vending machine like they might rewrite what he’d just heard.

They weren’t malicious, not exactly. But they were careless. Shallow.

They talked like she was… a curiosity. An oddity.

Like he was supposed to stay untouchable.

Like Y/N wasn’t— wasn’t the kindest, strongest person he’d met in years.

He walked away without saying a word.

Later, during practice, he was quieter than usual. Even Yunho noticed.

“You good?” he asked, nudging him with a padded elbow between sparring rounds.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa lied. “Just tired.”

But he wasn’t tired.

He was angry. Not at them — at himself.

Because a part of him had been frozen. For so long. Out of habit, out of fear. He didn’t make room for softness. He didn’t think he was the kind of person who needed it.

But now?

Now he noticed everything.

He noticed the way Y/N kept her notes meticulously neat but always left her pens scattered. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking. The way she tried to shrink herself in crowded spaces.

The way she flinched when she heard people laughing behind her.

The way she still smiled, even on the days she looked like she wanted to disappear.

And he hated that people reduced her to whispers.

He hated that they dared to make her feel small.

The next day, he caught up to her before class.

She was balancing a heavy tote bag full of books, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“Let me take that,” he said gently.

She blinked, startled. “Oh— it’s okay, I’ve got it.”

“I know,” he said, already sliding the strap off her shoulder and onto his. “But I want to.”

She hesitated, then gave him a quiet, grateful look.

They walked together down the hallway, a familiar rhythm forming between their footsteps.

“Thanks,” she said.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

She laughed once. “You say that a lot.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m helping because I feel sorry for you.”

“I know you’re not.”

They stopped near the lecture hall, and for a moment, he studied her profile.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said.

“Just busy.”

He nodded. “If anyone ever says something to you… anything that makes you uncomfortable—”

“They don’t have to,” she said quietly. “I hear them anyway.”

Seonghwa felt something in his chest twist.

“Then I’ll say it louder,” he murmured.

She looked up at him.

“What?”

“I see you,” he said softly. “Not what they say. Not what they think. Just you.”

Y/N looked like she wanted to say something — but their professor walked by, and the moment passed.

Still, as she entered the lecture hall, she turned back for just a second.

And Seonghwa… he was still watching her.

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It was the third time Seonghwa hovered by the gym door before she finally turned to him and asked, “Do you need something?”

He looked oddly hesitant — like his thoughts were moving faster than his mouth.

“We’re doing a training camp,” he said. “At the lake. Just a few days. Practice and rest.”

Y/N blinked. “Okay…”

“The team wants to know if you’ll come.”

“Me?”

“You’re part of the team, aren’t you?”

She flushed. “I mean… I guess. I just didn’t think—”

“You’ve been there for all our sessions,” he said. “And the others asked, too. Yunho said it wouldn’t be the same without you. So?”

She bit her lip. “I have to think about it.”

The walk home that evening felt heavier than usual.

The air was warm but not oppressive. Summer hung just on the edge of the breeze — a promise of late sunsets and the quiet stretch of weeks without lectures or stress. But Y/N couldn’t let herself enjoy it fully.

She found her father in the kitchen, a book propped on his lap, his chair angled toward the open window. His smile when he saw her never failed to lift something in her chest.

“Long day?” he asked.

She nodded and dropped her bag gently near the counter. “Kinda.”

“You okay?”

She hesitated. “The fencing team invited me to a training camp.”

His brows lifted. “That’s great.”

“It’s for a few days. At a lake. Kind of like a retreat-slash-practice-thing.”

“Even better.”

“I’m not sure if I should go.”

“Why not?”

She didn’t answer right away.

He put the book aside, the rustling of pages the only sound in the room. Then he met her eyes — calm, understanding, patient.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “You don’t have to stay behind for me.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he interrupted gently. “You always do.”

Her throat tightened. “It’s not a sacrifice. I want to be here.”

“And I want you to live. Have friends. Experiences. You’re young. You’ve spent too many years worrying about me, hiding yourself.”

Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. “You’re my dad.”

“And you’re my daughter,” he said. “The light of my life. And I don’t want to be the reason you miss out.”

“I just—what if something happens?”

“Then I’ll call you,” he smiled. “But nothing’s going to happen.”

She stepped forward and knelt beside his chair, resting her head on his arm.

“I miss Mom.”

“I know.”

“She’d want me to go, wouldn’t she?”

“She’d pack your bag herself.”

Y/N laughed, watery and soft.

“Go,” he said. “Swim in the lake. Sit under the stars. Let yourself have something good.”

She nodded, silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

The next morning, she walked into the gym with her bag slung over her shoulder and handed Seonghwa a signed consent form.

“I’m in,” she said.

A flicker of a smile — rare and warm — appeared on his lips.

“I’m glad.”

Seonghwa liked quiet mornings.

He liked the way sunlight cut through the blinds, how everything felt softer — quieter — before the world fully woke up. But this morning wasn’t quiet.

It was noisy.

And it was Yunho’s fault.

“Bro,” Yunho grinned, tossing his overnight bag into the luggage compartment of the chartered bus, “we’re getting a lake, freedom from classes, and good food? This is heaven.”

Mingi groaned dramatically. “Only if we don’t die from Hongjoong’s playlist on the ride there.”

“I heard that,” Hongjoong replied from the front, already claiming the aux cord like a weapon.

Seonghwa offered a small smile, slinging his own bag inside the hold. Then he looked up.

And paused.

Y/N was walking up the sidewalk, slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed from the early sun. She wore simple jeans and a soft oversized sweatshirt, her long hair braided loosely over one shoulder. She dragged her rolling suitcase with one hand and clutched her coffee in the other.

She looked… bright.

Comfortable.

Radiant in the way people often missed because they didn’t bother looking.

“You made it,” he said when she got close.

“Barely,” she puffed, “I overslept. Again.”

He reached out, gently taking her suitcase to load it for her. “It’s fine. You’re here.”

Their eyes met. And something warm curled in his chest.

The seating on the bus wasn’t assigned, but the fencing team had their rituals.

Hongjoong and Mingi sprawled across the back row. Yunho, Jongho, and Wooyoung claimed the row behind the emergency exit — apparently the “best legroom.”

Which left Seonghwa with a window seat near the front.

And Y/N standing beside him, scanning the aisles.

“Anyone sitting here?” she asked, gesturing to the seat next to him.

“No,” he said, perhaps too quickly. “You can.”

She smiled and slid in, clutching her coffee cup in both hands like a shield.

The bus engine roared to life.

They rolled out of the campus parking lot to the sound of loud chatter, groggy laughter, and the opening chords of a 90s throwback playlist.

An hour passed.

The conversation around them dimmed as more students dozed off. Outside, the highway had softened into countryside — open fields, tree-lined roads, and the occasional flash of a lake through the trees.

Seonghwa had half a mind to close his eyes.

And then it happened.

He felt a gentle weight press against his shoulder.

Y/N.

Fast asleep.

Her head leaned lightly against him, the curve of her cheek nestled into his upper arm, her lips parted slightly with each soft breath. Her braid had loosened a bit during the ride, a few strands falling against her face.

He froze.

Utterly.

Completely.

Froze.

His brain went quiet. His heart didn’t.

He didn’t dare move. Not even to shift his weight. Not even to exhale too hard.

Because… this?

This was perfect.

Snap.

He blinked.

Snap.

Again?

“What are you—” Seonghwa turned his head sharply.

Yunho stood in the aisle with his phone raised like a proud dad.

“You looked too soft to resist,” Yunho whispered.

Behind him, Wooyoung grinned. “You’re practically glowing.”

Seonghwa opened his mouth to argue.

“Bro,” Jongho added from two rows back, “you look like you just saw heaven.”

“Shut up,” Seonghwa whispered.

“Are you blushing?” Wooyoung gasped.

Yunho looked delighted. “He is. He is!”

Seonghwa glared — or tried to. “If you wake her up—”

“We won’t,” Yunho said. “But the moment she wakes up, I’m showing her that photo.”

“I will break your phone.”

“No you won’t,” Yunho replied cheerfully, already backing away.

Despite the teasing, Seonghwa didn’t move.

Not when her head shifted slightly and settled more fully against him.

Not when her hand slipped across the empty space and lightly grazed his arm.

He didn’t dare disturb it — the moment, the feeling, the quiet permission to be close.

And when he finally did close his eyes, he did it smiling.

By the time their bus pulled into the lakeside training facility, the grounds were already buzzing with activity. Tents lined the perimeter of the open-air fencing arena, and teams in matching warm-up jackets moved like swarms — laughing, stretching, warming up, or already sparring casually beneath the canopy.

Y/N stepped off the bus first, her eyes wide at the sight of the glimmering lake in the background and the mid-morning sun bouncing off foils in midair.

“This is… way more intense than I imagined,” she murmured.

“It always is,” Seonghwa said beside her, his arms crossed loosely. “Everyone tries to outshine each other from day one.”

She looked up at him. “And what about your team?”

He smirked. “We don’t need to try.”

Behind them, Mingi called out, “He means we already outshine everyone.”

Yunho leaned close to Y/N. “We let him pretend he’s humble.”

She giggled, and Seonghwa caught himself smiling before he could stop.

They settled into their shared lodging — two cabins nestled under tall pines. One for the fencing team, one for support staff and assistants. Y/N shared her space with the female coach and two girls from another team who had arrived earlier that morning.

After unpacking, the team assembled at the training arena for their first round of warm-ups.

That’s when he noticed him.

Tall, fit, and overly confident — the guy from Kyungdae’s team. His name was Daehyun, apparently, and he had one of those smiles: smooth, easy, practiced.

And right now, that smile was directed at Y/N.

She stood at the sidelines, notebook in hand, watching Hongjoong’s footwork. She didn’t notice Daehyun approach — not until he leaned in a little and said something that made her blink.

“Oh, um… thank you?” she answered, clearly confused.

Seonghwa couldn’t hear what Daehyun had said, but he didn’t need to. The way the guy tilted his head, the slight lean in his posture — it wasn’t hard to guess.

And she had no idea.

Y/N just nodded, her expression polite but distracted as she returned her focus to the sparring match. Daehyun seemed amused and wandered off after a few seconds, clearly not discouraged.

From across the arena, Yunho elbowed Seonghwa.

“Your jaw’s a little tight there, Captain.”

Seonghwa didn’t look at him. “It’s nothing.”

“Ohhh,” Mingi drawled. “So we did see that?”

“I didn’t see anything,” Seonghwa said quickly.

Wooyoung joined in. “That guy had no shame. He walked up like she was the only person here.”

“Technically,” Jongho said, “she kinda is. You see any other assistants that pretty?”

Seonghwa glared at him. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m not wrong though,” Jongho muttered under his breath.

The group exchanged knowing looks.

“She didn’t even register it,” Yunho chuckled. “She just blinked and went back to watching Hongjoong.”

“Classic,” Mingi said.

Seonghwa finally spoke, his voice quieter now. “She probably gets that kind of attention all the time. She just doesn’t see it.”

“You mean you didn’t see it until recently,” Wooyoung smirked.

He didn’t answer that.

Because it was true.

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The fire crackled gently in the middle of the open space, casting a flickering orange glow on the circle of folding chairs and tree stumps gathered around it. The sky had deepened into twilight, stars beginning to peek through the soft hues of violet and navy, and the smell of roasted marshmallows and pine lingered in the air.

Y/N sat with a warm drink between her palms, legs crossed beneath her, soaking in the rare peace of it all. Laughter echoed around the fire — teams mingled freely now, the initial tension of competition replaced by shared stories, harmless teasing, and light-hearted chaos.

Mingi was telling an overdramatic story about Yunho nearly falling into the lake earlier, complete with sound effects and wild hand gestures.

Even Seonghwa laughed at that one, the lines of his face softening, though he sat a little further back — quieter, as always.

Y/N caught herself glancing at him a few times.

She didn’t mean to.

He just… stood out.

Not just because of his looks (though he did look maddeningly good in the firelight), but because of how composed he was. Like a silent lighthouse among all the waves of noise.

She looked away before he could meet her gaze.

And that’s when Daehyun appeared again.

He dropped into the seat next to her, holding out a skewer with two toasted marshmallows. “One of them’s slightly burned,” he said. “I figured you might be the type to like that.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Oh. Thank you.”

He grinned, leaning slightly toward her. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

She glanced down at the marshmallows. “I guess so.”

He chuckled. “You know, I noticed you right away earlier. You’ve got this calm energy. It’s… kind of hard to ignore.”

“Oh,” she said, cheeks warming, but not entirely sure why. “That’s nice.”

He looked at her like he expected something more. When she didn’t respond, he nudged her playfully. “You always this hard to impress?”

“I’m not trying to be,” she said sincerely. “I’m just… not used to people saying things like that.”

“You should be,” he said, his voice dropping a little. “Because I have a feeling I’m not the only one who noticed.”

Y/N gave him a polite, puzzled smile, trying to understand what he meant — but before she could think too hard about it, Wooyoung called for a group photo and people started rearranging themselves.

She shifted over to give space, brushing her hands off on her jacket, still thinking about the conversation — or rather, trying to understand it.

She didn’t notice Seonghwa watching.

From across the fire, Seonghwa narrowed his eyes.

Daehyun had barely left Y/N’s side since they’d all sat down. And he was too close. Laughing too loudly. Leaning in too far.

She didn’t seem to mind — but she also didn’t seem to realize.

Which was, strangely, worse.

“He’s doing it again,” Wooyoung muttered beside him, biting into a marshmallow.

Seonghwa didn’t respond.

Yunho leaned back, his gaze following Daehyun. “He’s bold, huh?”

Mingi snorted. “Too bold.”

Seonghwa set down his cup and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jongho asked.

“Nowhere,” Seonghwa muttered. “Stretching my legs.”

But really, he just needed a break. And maybe, a reason to not break Daehyun’s face.

Y/N found herself standing near the edge of the fire circle, watching a group trying (and failing) to toast marshmallows without burning them to a crisp.

She took a slow breath, then turned — and nearly bumped into Mingi.

“Oh — sorry!”

“No worries,” he said brightly. Then his voice lowered. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, though she furrowed her brows a little. “Just… tired, I think.”

He nodded, then gave her a lopsided smile. “You know that guy’s been flirting with you, right?”

She blinked. “Who?”

Mingi blinked back. “The guy who brought you marshmallows. Daehyun.”

“What? No.” She laughed. “He was just being friendly.”

Mingi chuckled and ruffled her hair with one big hand. “Y/N… it’s called flirting. And you’re allowed to accept it, you know?”

She flushed. “I just don’t… I don’t think about that stuff.”

“Well, maybe you should,” he said gently. “You’re pretty. Like, really pretty. Smart, funny, and kind, too. Of course people are going to flirt with you.”

She looked down. “That’s… hard to believe.”

“Believe it anyway,” Mingi said, then leaned in. “Some people might not say it out loud, but they notice. Trust me.”

“Thanks,” she said softly.

“Anytime,” he grinned. “Now go grab another marshmallow before Wooyoung eats the entire bag.”

Across the fire, Seonghwa saw her smile.

He saw Mingi ruffle her hair and whisper something to her — and the way she blushed, a real one this time, soft and unguarded.

And he realized something dangerous was growing in his chest.

Jealousy, yes.

But also something far more terrifying:

He liked her. Really liked her. And it wasn’t going away.

The campfire burned low now, glowing amber and gold in the center of the group. The heat had eased from earlier, leaving behind a comfortable chill that wrapped around everyone like a shared secret. Laughter still bubbled in waves, drinks passed in mugs and paper cups, and blankets were tugged a little tighter around shoulders as the night deepened.

Someone — maybe Yunho or one of the girls from the Jeonju team — suggested a classic campfire game: everyone would go around and say their “type.”

The reactions were immediate.

Groans. Cheers. Some dramatic sighs.

“Oh come on,” Wooyoung grinned. “You all want to know anyway.”

“Yes!” one of the girls from the female fencing team beamed. “We definitely want to hear what he says.” She gestured playfully to Seonghwa, who blinked like a deer in headlights.

Y/N shrunk a little into her hoodie, hoping not to be called on. Games like this weren’t exactly her thing — not because she was shy, but because she’d never had a good answer to give.

They started from the left.

Yunho cracked a joke. “Tall, soft, laughs at all my dumb puns.”

Jongho rolled his eyes. “Someone who doesn’t need to laugh at them. Smart, confident, low drama.”

The girls added their thoughts one by one. Some described looks, others went for personality. Mingi got dramatic with hand gestures, listing half a dozen things in rapid-fire.

And then it came to Seonghwa.

Everything quieted.

Y/N glanced at him, curious — even the wind seemed to hush as he looked at the flames for a moment.

“I guess…” he began slowly, “I like someone who’s… thoughtful. Someone who notices the small things. Someone who’s steady, kind, without needing to be loud. She’s smart — probably doesn’t realize how smart. And beautiful, not in a flashy way, but… you just want to keep looking at her. Like she glows without trying to.”

His voice had softened by the end.

Across the fire, the others shared a collective glance.

The girls from the other team all exchanged wide-eyed looks.

Everyone knew.

Everyone — except Y/N.

She smiled faintly, thinking he was probably describing some elegant, soft-spoken type. The kind of girl who always had it together. Definitely not her.

It wasn’t until someone said, “Your turn,” that she blinked and realized they meant her.

“Me?”

“Of course!” one of the Jeonju girls grinned. “Everyone has a type!”

“I…” Y/N hesitated, heat rising in her cheeks. “I don’t know if I do.”

“Oh come on,” Wooyoung teased. “You’ve never thought about it?”

“No, I mean…” She took a breath, then spoke honestly, “I never really thought about that kind of thing, because… I never thought someone would be interested in me like that. So I guess I didn’t let myself think about it.”

The silence that followed was different from before. It was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just… quiet.

Then one of the girls said gently, “Well, they should be. You’re beautiful.”

Another murmured agreement. “Really.”

Y/N smiled, surprised and touched. She didn’t know how to answer that, so she just said, “Thanks,” and looked back at the fire.

A few meters away, Seonghwa was watching her again — but this time, with something soft and unreadable in his gaze.

“She really didn’t know,” Yunho whispered.

“I told you,” Wooyoung muttered back. “She never catches it.”

“She thinks he sees her as a teammate,” Jongho added. “That’s it.”

A girl from the Jeonju team leaned closer to Mingi. “Are they… together?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not yet.”

“Seriously?” another said. “That guy just described her like a poem.”

“Yeah,” Yunho said with a small laugh. “He’s a poetic guy. Just also emotionally constipated.”

They all snickered.

“She’s good for him,” one of the girls added. “He looks… softer with her. Like, human.”

They looked back toward the fire.

And sure enough, Seonghwa had risen, following after Y/N as she walked away toward the lake’s edge, cup still in hand.

The stars above the lake were impossibly clear.

Y/N had wandered just far enough to stand away from the firelight, letting the breeze cool her face. The water was glassy, and she could still hear laughter from behind her.

She didn’t hear him approach.

“It’s cold,” Seonghwa said quietly, holding out a hoodie.

She turned, surprised, but took it. It smelled like him — laundry soap and something earthy, almost like cedar.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Then:

“Do you really believe that?”

She looked up at him, confused. “Believe what?”

“That no one would be interested in you.”

“Oh,” she said softly.

He looked at her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “Because that’s… not true. At all.”

She looked away, unsure what to say.

“I know it’s not easy to see yourself how others do,” he continued, voice still soft. “But I think… if you saw what I see, you’d never question it again.”

Y/N blinked slowly, heart beating too loud.

He didn’t step closer.

He didn’t reach for her.

He just stood there beside her, calm and warm and sincere.

They stayed like that — under the stars, above the lake, hearts too full of questions neither of them had the courage to voice.

Yet.

The sun was already high when the tournament began, casting sharp golden light across the lakeside gym. It wasn’t a major competition — more of a casual meet-up between teams to showcase their skill and spark a little healthy rivalry — but there was still an excited buzz in the air.

Y/N found a spot at the edge of the gym, clipboard in hand, helping the coach manage the warm-ups and match tracking. She was focused. Mostly.

Until Seonghwa stepped onto the floor.

He stood with a quiet confidence, body tall and poised in his fencing gear. When he adjusted his mask, pulling it over his head, Y/N caught herself holding her breath. The way he moved was fluid, almost like he was dancing — sharp, elegant, precise. Every motion he made seemed practiced but effortlessly graceful.

When he lunged, it felt like the room tilted with him.

“Hey.” A whisper from her side made her jump. Mingi.

He leaned down next to her ear, grinning. “You’ve been watching him like he’s in a drama.”

Y/N blinked. “I’m just—watching the match.”

“Mmhm,” Yeosang hummed from her other side. “Totally. Not watching Seonghwa, just the match.”

“You’re both annoying,” she muttered, cheeks warm.

Mingi snickered. “You’ve got a huge crush, huh?”

She stayed quiet.

They didn’t press her, just exchanged a knowing look and let her watch the rest of the match in peace.

The tournament wrapped up by late afternoon. Most of the students and coaches headed out to the lake to cool off. Y/N offered to stay behind with the coach to clean up the gym. After a while, she was left alone, sweeping up the edge of the mats, humming quietly to herself.

A pair of footsteps echoed behind her.

She turned — and of course, it was Seonghwa.

“You stayed behind?” she asked.

He shrugged, picking up a pile of used towels and dropping them into the laundry bin. “Figured you could use some help.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

They worked in a comfortable silence, the kind they’d grown used to over the weeks. He wasn’t uptight around her anymore — not exactly warm, but less guarded. She’d started to notice the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.

Or maybe she’d just started to hope he looked at her.

After folding the last of the gear bags, he turned to her.

“Do you want to try it?”

She blinked. “Try what?”

“Fencing. Just… one basic move. I can show you.”

She hesitated. “I don’t have a mask or gear.”

“It’s just the form,” he said, stepping closer and picking up a practice foil. “No contact. Just footwork and stance.”

“Okay,” she said before she could overthink it.

He handed her the foil and moved behind her, adjusting her grip gently.

“You want to hold it like this,” he murmured, his breath brushing her ear.

Her skin tingled.

“Now your stance—here,” he said, placing a hand on her waist and nudging her gently to the side. “Turn just a little…”

His hand lingered, just briefly, but long enough for her heart to thud unevenly in her chest.

“Okay. Lunge forward.”

She tried, a little awkwardly, and stumbled.

He caught her with one hand on her elbow and the other on her back.

They were close now. Too close. His hands steadied her, but he didn’t pull away.

She looked up, lips parted, and realized he was staring.

At her mouth.

And then his eyes flicked up to hers, wide and uncertain.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them breathed.

His face tilted — just a little.

Their noses almost brushed.

“Hey!”

They sprang apart like startled cats.

Wooyoung’s voice echoed from the gym doors. “You two coming to the lake or what?! It’s getting dark!”

Y/N turned away quickly, pretending to fuss with the foil. Her face was burning.

“Y-yeah!” Seonghwa called back. His voice cracked slightly. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

They didn’t look at each other right away.

But as they packed the last of the gear in silence, something new buzzed between them. Something neither of them could name yet, but both of them felt.

A distance had shrunk — not erased completely, but pulled tighter. And now, every step forward would feel different.

The sun had already slipped behind the trees, leaving streaks of lilac and orange in the sky as the evening settled over the lake. A few portable lights strung up along the edge of the campfire area flickered on, casting a warm, golden glow over the faces gathered around.

Laughter rang through the group, the mix of fencing teams — ATEEZ, the girls’ team, and the others — sprawled out on logs and camp chairs. The sound of marshmallows roasting, soft guitar strumming, and rustling leaves made the entire scene feel like it belonged in a movie.

Seonghwa sat a little removed from the others, legs stretched out in front of him, arms loosely crossed. He looked effortlessly composed — as always — but Wooyoung, sitting just beside him, grinned knowingly.

“So…” Wooyoung leaned closer, elbow nudging him. “Are you going to tell us what that was?”

Seonghwa blinked. “What?”

“In the gym. With Y/N.” Wooyoung smirked. “Don’t play dumb, hyung. I saw that little fencing lesson. You two were this close to kissing.”

Seonghwa’s ears flushed a deep red. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh really? Because from where I stood, it looked very exactly like that.” Wooyoung leaned back dramatically. “Should’ve brought popcorn.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa hissed under his breath, shooting a quick glance toward Y/N.

She was sitting a few feet away, knees drawn up to her chest, gaze fixed out over the still lake water. Her expression was unreadable — calm, maybe a little sad. She wasn’t paying attention to them at all.

Seonghwa exhaled. “She didn’t even notice.”

“She definitely noticed,” Wooyoung whispered. “She just hasn’t figured out what it means yet.”

Seonghwa didn’t reply.

He wasn’t good at this. At feelings. At being so aware of someone that even her silence echoed in his chest. What scared him more than anything… was how badly he’d wanted to kiss her.

She stared at the lake and didn’t hear a single word being said around her.

The stars were starting to show in the indigo sky, and the moonlight glittered over the surface of the water like scattered pearls.

But her thoughts were still in the gym. In the moment Seonghwa’s hand had steadied her waist. The way he looked at her, so close, like he was about to—

But he hadn’t. Had he?

Her fingers twisted around the hem of her hoodie. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was just… a moment. Training. Proximity.

But he hadn’t moved right away. And the look in his eyes…

Her stomach fluttered in confusion.

He wasn’t like that with anyone else. But that didn’t mean anything either. Maybe he was just kind.

Or maybe she was hoping for something that would never be hers.

Eventually, the fire died down, and one by one, people drifted off to their shared rooms or tents. Y/N stayed behind until only a few faint embers remained. The quiet soothed her. Out here, the air was cool and smelled like pine and earth. She stood slowly, brushing off her hands, and made her way down the wooden dock that jutted out into the lake.

The water lapped gently at the sides. Fireflies flickered lazily through the reeds.

The moon hung low over the lake, casting long ribbons of silver across the surface. Crickets sang in the bushes nearby, and the distant laughter of teammates echoed faintly from the cabins. But here, at the edge of the water, everything felt quiet. Still.

She sat at the very edge of the dock, shoes off, legs dangling just above the surface. Her thoughts were still tangled and restless. Her feelings, too.

Y/N pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin there, watching the ripples roll gently in the moonlight. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting alone. She only knew she needed space — to think, to breathe, to try and understand the feeling fluttering behind her ribs.

Footsteps behind her made her stiffen slightly. But then she heard his voice, soft and unsure.

“Can I sit?”

She turned her head slowly, already recognizing him by the way his shadow moved. Seonghwa.

“Sure,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

He lowered himself to the sand beside her, close — but not too close. The scent of him, warm and faintly citrusy from the soap he used, lingered between them. They sat like that for a moment, listening to the night.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said suddenly.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“At the gym… earlier.” He kept his eyes on the water. “When I—when I got close. I should’ve been more careful. I didn’t mean to—”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” she interrupted softly.

That made him glance at her.

She offered a small smile. “I felt… safe. With you.”

The words seemed to settle between them, soft and quiet like the waves.

Seonghwa looked at her, really looked at her, and something shifted in his expression. Not surprise, not confusion. Just something warmer, deeper.

He hesitated. Then, slowly, he reached out and touched her hand — not grabbing it, just brushing against her fingers, waiting.

When she didn’t pull away, he intertwined their fingers carefully.

“I really wanted to kiss you,” he said, voice barely audible over the lake.

Y/N’s breath caught.

She turned her head toward him, surprised, but what stunned her more than his words was the faint blush dusting his cheeks. Seonghwa — usually composed, reserved — looked like he was scrambling for control of his thoughts.

“I’m not… good with things like this,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Emotions. Words. I’ve always been better with focus and logic, not… feelings.”

His thumb brushed her knuckle gently. “I’ve never really had a relationship that… mattered. Not like this. Not where I couldn’t stop thinking about someone.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, but she stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I kept trying to brush it off,” he continued. “Telling myself I was just being protective, or respectful, or grateful. But it’s more than that.”

He paused, looking at their joined hands like he needed to be sure they were real.

“My thoughts… they keep circling around you. When I’m practicing. When I walk across campus. Even when I’m quiet, you’re still there. And I don’t think it’s just admiration. I think—no, I know that what I feel is love. Real, romantic love.”

Her heart thundered in her chest.

“I’m not saying this to pressure you,” he added quickly. “I just… couldn’t keep it in anymore. I don’t expect anything from you. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I needed you to know.”

He turned to face her fully now, his hand trembling just slightly in hers.

Y/N looked into his eyes — dark, honest, wide with nervous vulnerability — and for the first time, truly saw how much courage it had taken for him to say that.

“I—” she started, then stopped, unsure of what words could capture the storm inside her.

Seonghwa didn’t push.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, blinking quickly. “I’m just… surprised.”

He gave a small nod. “I figured you might be.”

“Not because I think it’s impossible,” she added quickly. “Just… I didn’t think you could ever feel that way. About someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” His brow furrowed.

Y/N laughed softly, the sound almost bitter. “You’re… you. And I’m just me.”

“That’s exactly why I like you.”

She looked at him again, startled.

“I see you,” Seonghwa said gently. “All of you. And I think you’re… remarkable.”

The silence returned, heavier now — not with uncertainty, but with something full and quiet and waiting.

Seonghwa didn’t press further. He only gave her hand a small, reassuring squeeze before letting it go and looking back out over the water.

And Y/N sat there beside him, heart trembling, trying to process that the person she’d fallen in love from a distance might have been watching her just as closely all along.

Y/N stared at the lake for a long moment, Seonghwa’s words echoing in her ears like ripples across the water. She could still feel the warmth of his fingers on her hand, still see the soft blush on his face, still hear the nervous sincerity in his voice.

He really said it.

He really meant it.

Her chest swelled with something that felt like relief and disbelief tangled together. Maybe it had always been there — the hope — but hearing it aloud made it real. Made him real in a new way.

And still, he sat beside her, respectful and still, looking out at the moonlit lake like he’d just exposed his entire heart and was ready for it to sink.

Y/N turned toward him slowly.

“Seonghwa,” she whispered.

He glanced at her, and in the dim light she saw the tension behind his eyes — the quiet fear that maybe he’d said too much.

But she reached out and touched his arm lightly. “You’re not the only one who’s been thinking too much.”

His breath caught.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” she said, voice shaky with nerves. “I didn’t let myself realize it. I kept telling myself you were just kind… just careful. That someone like you couldn’t see someone like me.”

“Y/N…”

“I thought I was imagining the way you looked at me sometimes. Or the way my chest felt full whenever I was around you. But I wasn’t.” She took a breath, heart pounding. “Because I feel it too. I feel everything you just said. All of it.”

Seonghwa blinked like he didn’t quite believe her. “You do?”

She laughed — soft and a little overwhelmed. “Yes. I do.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was filled with a quiet kind of joy, stunned and unspoken, like standing on the edge of a world neither of them expected to find.

Seonghwa turned to her fully now, his hand rising instinctively like he wanted to hold her but didn’t want to assume.

“Can I—?”

She nodded, heart thudding.

His hand found hers again, warm and strong, and he let out the tiniest laugh — quiet and stunned, like he was breathing for the first time in weeks.

“I thought I ruined everything,” he said softly. “That I’d scared you off.”

“You didn’t,” she whispered. “You just… surprised me.”

He smiled then — wide and full of something gentle and luminous.

And then the air changed.

The soft quiet between them thickened, warmer somehow, electric and still.

Seonghwa’s gaze dropped to her lips for a second — so brief she almost missed it.

She leaned in just slightly, just enough for him to know she wasn’t afraid.

And Seonghwa… Seonghwa closed the distance.

Their lips met in the faintest brush — tentative, soft, like a question. Then again, firmer, as if answering it. His hand slid to her cheek, cradling her with care, and Y/N felt her heart swell until it might burst.

There was nothing rushed about it.

No desperation.

Just the quiet wonder of two people finally seeing each other clearly.

When they pulled back, Seonghwa rested his forehead gently against hers.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered, breath shaky.

Y/N smiled, eyes closing for a moment as she held onto the warmth of him. “Me too.”

They sat like that for a long time, hands still intertwined, hearts still racing — two people no longer wondering.

Just feeling. Just beginning.

The morning after the lakeside confession was calm, wrapped in the kind of golden haze only lazy summer mornings could bring. Birds chirped softly from the nearby trees, and the lake shimmered under the rising sun as if it too carried the secret of the night before.

Y/N woke up smiling. Not wide, not dramatic — just a quiet curve of her lips that lingered. The memory of Seonghwa’s soft kiss, his gentle words, the way his hand had found hers and stayed… it played like a song on repeat in the back of her mind.

Seonghwa, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically floaty.

He wasn’t being overly obvious. He still greeted the team with his usual polite nods and calm demeanor. But the change was there — subtle, sure, but undeniable. There was a softness in his eyes, a looseness in his shoulders, and he smiled a little easier when his gaze found hers across the morning buzz of breakfast.

The rest of the Team noticed first.

“Did Seonghwa just… smile at his toast?” Wooyoung whispered loudly to San.

“He hummed,” San confirmed, wide-eyed. “Like… actually hummed.”

Hongjoong squinted. “When was the last time Seonghwa looked this serene? Like he just got back from a meditation retreat and not a fencing bootcamp?”

Then they noticed Y/N.

She walked in a few minutes later in her oversized hoodie, hair slightly damp from her shower, cheeks still flushed from the summer warmth. She greeted the group shyly, but her eyes flickered toward Seonghwa, and that soft little smile bloomed again.

Seonghwa looked up — and that was it. The look he gave her was different. Fond. Familiar.

And then it happened.

As they sat together on one of the picnic benches, leaning in to look at something on Seonghwa’s phone, she laughed at one of his rare but endearingly bad jokes. And before he even realized it — Seonghwa leaned in and pressed a light, absentminded kiss to her cheek.

It was instinct.

Natural.

He didn’t even realize what he’d done until she froze slightly and turned to look at him, wide-eyed.

“Oh—” he started, face already coloring with alarm, “I—sorry, I didn’t mean—”

But it was too late.

“OH MY GOD.” Wooyoung was the first to shout.

“DID HE JUST—” San gasped, nearly choking on his juice.

“HE DID,” Yeosang cackled.

Even the other teams turned to look at the commotion.

Seonghwa groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I genuinely forgot where we were.”

Y/N, meanwhile, had gone from pink to deep scarlet. Her eyes darted around in disbelief, and she tried to shrink into her hoodie.

“You two are so obvious,” Mingi said, grinning like a proud older brother.

“Honestly,” Jongho chimed in, deadpan. “We were waiting for this.”

“Wait,” one of the girls from the visiting team asked, blinking. “So… are you two dating?”

Seonghwa looked at Y/N, who looked back at him, both still mid-panic.

“Yrs?” he said sheepishly.

More gasps.

More laughter.

Y/N pressed her hands to her cheeks, laughing despite herself. “Can we not do this in front of everyone?”

“Oh no,” Wooyoung smirked, leaning in. “Now that you’ve joined the ‘caught in the act’ club, there’s no escape.”

Seonghwa tried to glare, but his blush betrayed him. “You all are impossible.”

“It’s love, hyung,” San sing-songed. “Let it bloom.”

Y/N let out a helpless giggle and reached under the table to gently bump her knee against Seonghwa’s. It was the quietest thank you. For being brave. For showing her affection even when the world was watching.

He peeked at her through his fingers, smile blooming slowly again.

And just like that, the teasing softened into fondness. They weren’t just laughing at them — they were celebrating. Because for the first time in a while, Seonghwa looked happy.

And Y/N looked like someone who finally felt seen.

●●●°°•♡♡•°°••••♡♡°°○○••●●°°♡♡♡••○●●○♡

Author’s Note 🖤

That’s a wrap on Seonghwa’s story (for now 👀).

So… who should come next?

Yeosang, Jongho, or Hongjoong?

Let me know which member you'd love to see in the spotlight — and if you’ve got any favorite tropes, I’m all ears!

Also, I really enjoyed writing in the sports AU setting — and honestly, I’m this close to turning it into a whole series.

ATEEZ × Sports = chaos, sweat, and unexpected soft moments. Who’s in?

Thanks so much for reading and supporting all the stories so far — you’re the best 💫

Love,

mingiatz

[thedragonlies]

Happy Pride!

merthur + morgwen ficlet below the cut

He Comes in Colours

Arthur trailed along after Morgana and Gwen, his hands in his pockets. They were celebrating their first Pride as a couple—although Gwen had been in their lives since before they could remember, Morgana had finally moved out and told their father where he could stick it, and one of the first things she’d done was officially start dating Gwen. 

Arthur personally thought she was being a tad dramatic. Their father could certainly be judgemental, but he’d never been openly homophobic, at least not that Arthur had seen. Still, he was determined to prove to Morgana that he didn’t share whatever attitudes their father may or may not have, and if that meant spending his Saturday at a Pride parade, that was fine with him. Morgana had even hinted that maybe he’d meet someone: “Come on, Arthur, you’re no less bi because you’ve never dated a man, Pride is for you, too.” 

“That’s hardly my fault!” Arthur had protested. If the only man he’d ever fallen head-over-heels for hadn’t been straight as a board, he’d probably be married by now. 

And right there was another reason he enjoyed supporting Gwen and Morgana every chance he got. He’d never admit it aloud—stiff upper lip and all that—but he certainly felt a twinge of self-indulgent glee knowing that just as swiftly as Lancelot had unintentionally broken Arthur’s heart, he’d turned around to be rejected in a similar vein by the object of his own affections.

“Guinevere, you are an angel,” he called as his future sister-in-law tried on a variety of rainbow-coloured headscarves from a stall in the vendors’ aisle, spinning to show off the look to her companions. Today’s event was family-friendly—which Morgana had probably chosen out of consideration for Gwen’s shyness—and the trio were currently wandering through the stalls of games, snacks, and artisans selling largely Pride-themed merchandise. All in all, it made for a very brightly-coloured scene, and the parade wasn’t even due to start for another hour. 

“Oh, that’s beautiful!” Gwen suddenly pointed across the street, and Arthur followed her gaze. He immediately had to agree with her assessment. The man she was pointing at was stunning, leaning over a stool and smiling with a grin that lit up the whole street as he painted a rainbow butterfly on a young girl’s cheek. Arthur belatedly realized Gwen was actually pointing out a board set up on a table next to the stool showing the designs to choose from, which ranged from butterflies to birds to symbols and more abstract patterns, all in bright rainbow hues. 

The artist was holding up a mirror to his young client now, who squealed with glee and dashed off holding her parent’s hand. The man watched them go as Morgana, Gwen, and Arthur approached, wiping his hands on a cloth as he straightened up. 

“That’s beautiful work,” Gwen said, catching his attention. “Are you an artist?”

He laughed, and the sound made Arthur feel warm all the way down to his toes. “Of a sort,” he said. He reached for the first stack of business cards on the table in front of the stand, and held one out to Gwen. “That’s my studio.” Arthur glanced at the card, which read “Camelot Tattoo.” He sidled over to the table and picked one up for himself, glancing over the three glass jars lined up next to the cards, each of which was accompanied by a stack of brochures for a different charity—The Trevor Project, Stonewall, and Mermaids. The bottom of the display board that Gwen was now looking over intently read “By Donation.”

“Is this only for children?” Morgana asked, gesturing to his paints. 

“Kids of all ages are welcome,” the man said with another smile. “I’m Merlin.”

“Nice to meet you, Merlin,” Morgana said as she slid onto the stool. “I’m Morgana, and this is my girlfriend, Gwen. The big lout hovering over there is my brother, Arthur.” 

Arthur nodded in greeting, cringing at himself for gawking at the display before introducing himself. “Hello.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Merlin said, and Arthur imagined that his gaze lingered on him a bit longer than strictly necessary, trailing down his body before turning back to his work. “Well, did you have a design in mind?” 

Morgana looked up at her girlfriend. “Gwen?” 

“Oh!” Gwen exclaimed excitedly, and pointed. “We can do the two joined hearts, if you like.”

“In the lesbian flag colors,” Morgana added.

“Perfect.” Merlin beamed. 

He began the design on Morgana’s cheek while they all chatted. “So, how did you two meet?” Merlin asked. 

“Oh, we’ve known each other practically forever,” Gwen said. 

“Childhood sweethearts?” 

“If only!” Morgana sighed heavily, and Merlin gripped her chin to keep her face steady. “My father wasn’t exactly the open and accepting type. But that’s not really a problem for me anymore.” 

“She’s being dramatic,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “She finally moved out, is all.”

Morgana narrowed her eyes at Arthur. “What about you, Merlin?” she asked. “Anyone special in your life?” 

“I just moved here not long ago. Been busy getting the studio up and running, and trying to build up a clientele. Haven’t had much time to date.” Merlin shrugged. 

“Have you discovered Heart of Hereford yet?” Arthur asked. “Best burgers in the city.” 

Morgana, who was a vegetarian, rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a true meat-eater.” 

“Hey, nothing wrong with that,” Merlin broke in. “Maybe it’s not for everyone” — he finished the design on Morgana’s cheek with a swipe of pink — “but I love a good slab of meat every now and then.” He glanced over at Arthur with a smirk as he stepped back to let Morgana up from the stool. “And no, I haven’t been. Care to show me sometime?” 

“I’d love to,” Arthur said, grinning back like an idiot as Gwen slid into the seat in front of Merlin. Arthur was a bit fascinated by his hands as he worked, flying over Gwen’s face with a smooth efficiency and leaving beautiful colours behind. Almost like magic. Arthur coughed, tearing away his gaze to pull out his wallet and drop a handful of bills into each of the jars. 

When he’d finished his work, Merlin stepped back and pulled out his mobile. “Mind if I post it to my Instagram? You’re my first couples’ design today.” Gwen giggled shyly, but Morgana lit up, and pressed her cheek to Gwen’s to complete the joined hearts. Merlin snapped a pic and then stepped over to a rucksack heaped on a chair to grab a drink from a water bottle. It left his lips glistening, and Arthur stared—his own mouth dry now too—as Merlin deftly screwed the cap back on and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to expose heavily tattooed and toned forearms. Before Arthur realised what was happening, Morgana had settled him onto the stool in front of Merlin, who was already grinning down at him. “See anything you like?”  

Arthur was already nodding before he followed Merlin’s gaze and realized he, too—just like Gwen had been earlier—was referring to the board of example designs. 

Arthur glanced over the offerings again, though he’d already spent considerable time staring at them awkwardly as Morgana and Gwen had chatted with Merlin. He shrugged. “Whatever you think looks best.” Merlin’s smile faded at that, so he added with a smirk, “I’m entirely in your hands.” His flirtation had the intended effect as Merlin returned the look, saying, “I know just the thing.”  

Arthur flinched at the first contact of the brush against his cheek, the paint colder and more ticklish than he’d expected. Merlin braced the back of Arthur’s head with his free hand, his fingers curling against the side of Arthur’s neck as if he was about to pull him in for a kiss. He was focusing intently on Arthur’s cheek as he worked, leaving Arthur free to make a thorough inspection of all that loomed tantalisingly in his immediate field of vision, from the long lashes dusting Merlin’s cheek each time he blinked to the sharpness of his cheeks and the plumpness of his lips. This may perhaps have been the most brilliant idea Morgana had ever had—not that Arthur would ever admit it.

“So, how many tattoos do you actually have?” Arthur asked, suddenly realising he’d been ogling the man before him long enough to be considered rude. 

“Mm, I’m not sure. Maybe if you sit still like a good boy, I’ll let you count them later.” Merlin winked, and Arthur swallowed hard. 

“They’re all covered, though?”

Merlin laughed. “Yeah. Promised my mum I wouldn’t hurt my career options, or she never would have let me get that first tattoo gun.”

“I take it she doesn’t approve?”

“Oh no, that’s not it at all. She’s super-supportive. My first tattoo that wasn’t on an orange was a bird on her ankle.”

Arthur laughed. He could hardly imagine his own father putting up with anything like that. “That’s sweet.” 

“What about you, then? Got any ink?” 

“Me? No. Noooo.” 

“Ever thought about it?” The brush paused, and Merlin’s eyes darted over to Arthur’s lips before taking a long sweep down his body. “You’d make a stunning canvas.”

Arthur suppressed a grin—in the interest of sitting still like a good boy, of course. “Are you saying you want to mark me up?”

“Sounds like I’d be the first.” 

Arthur’s gaze flicked to Merlin’s lips. “You would, actually. If you think you’re up to the task. But let’s start with something a little less permanent.”

Merlin grinned and stepped back. “Fair enough.” He held up the mirror for Arthur, biting his lip. “Well? Do you like it?”

Arthur glanced over the design appraisingly. “Oh!” he said. “That’s—” Merlin had chosen a design that wasn’t anywhere to be found on the board. It was the outline of a dragon, proud and medieval, filled in with a rainbow. It looked like it belonged on a knight’s shield. A very gay knight. Arthur grinned. “It’s perfect.”

Merlin glanced at the line of children that had formed as he worked, then back to Arthur sheepishly. “My mate should be here soon to take over. Wait for me?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said, unable to look away, or seemingly, to stop grinning. Fortunately, Merlin seemed to be similarly afflicted, an extremely contagious illness that had set in far too quickly and only continued to worsen as they watched the parade together, as Merlin took obscenely big bites of his first Heart of Hereford burger, as Arthur wiped a drip of grease from the corner of Merlin’s lips with his thumb. 

It was only much later, with rainbow smears across the lumpy pillow in Merlin’s tiny flat above Camelot Tattoo, that Arthur found number 31, the twin to his own cheek decoration—in striking gold instead of rainbow—on a shield tucked into the curve of Merlin’s hipbone, opposite number 30, a sword on the other side.

Also on AO3

[moistmailman]

*Pyrrha is visiting the Arc household*

Pyrrha, smiling: This breakfast is really good, Mrs. Arc. Thank you for the meal.

Mama Arc, smiling: You're welcome sweetheart. Anything for the girl who gave my son a chance.

Jaune, blushing: Mooom, stop embarrassing me!

Mama Arc, frowning: Hush! Let your mother be happy for you! I was afraid you'll never find a girlfriend.

Jaune: *groans*

Pyrrha: *giggles*

Jaune:....wait, where's dad?

Mama Arc: Just preparing your baby sister before she comes down here and sees her.

Pyrrha, raising an eyebrow: What's that supposed to mean?

*in the distant, a voice of a little girl is heard whining*

Little girl: Why do I need to have this pillow attached to the back of my head!

Papa Arc: Just trust me, Pumpkin.

*Suddenly a little blond girl walks into the kitchen wearing official Pyrrha Nikos pajamas and holding a stuff dollars version of her in her arms*

Mama Arc: Hello, Bleu.

Bleu: Hi mo-

*Bleu finally notices Pyrrha*

Bleu, staring wide eyed:............*drops her doll in shock*

Pyrrha, smiling: Oh uhm, hello. Nice to meet you.

Bleu, wide eyed: Y-y-y-youre- you're- you're P-p-Pyrrha- P-p-Pyrrha- you're Pyrrha Nikos! *Faints backwards, the pillow cushioning her head from the fall*

Pyrrha: Oh dear, is s-she alight?

Mama Arc: Yeah, she's fine. That's what the pillow was for.

[luvseisagi]

— this one's for you.

read part 1 here.

ft. isagi yoichi x reader. wc. 4k

summary. it all started with breakfast, and now you're quite literally the main character of an american teen romcom movie —whats next, a goal dedicated to you? content. fem!reader, fem pronouns used, fluff, crack, slow burn ?? they don't end up dating like officialy but kinda ?? isagis parents are like . very present here. college students!au. reader realizes shes down bad. isagi plays for the uni team and looks very hot doing it. author's note. remember i said id post this soon. well. uni's got me again im SO sorry, but here it is!! idk ive been meaning to write this for a while now but im not sure if i like it at all now ?? i read it too much i guess, hope u do like it tho <3

𝜗𝜚 english isnt my first language, so any corrections or advice are highly appreciated, as well as feedback (please) !

fuck. you think to yourself, going up the stairs as fast as you can. fuck fuck fuck.

you nimbly and silently dodge the faded blue and yellowish-white seats, crouching slightly, trying not to disturb the crowd already settled in the stands, muttering “sorry, i’m sorry, excuse me" every time you step on someone's foot or have to ask them to stand up so you can pass.

you get a couple of judgmental glances and a few retorts, but nothing embarrasses you more than finally reaching the front row of the stands and approaching the only empty seat next to a couple who are staring at you intently.

isagi's parents.

you hurriedly sit down after the person on your other side clears their throat —you’re blocking their view.

"hello," you dare to whisper, tilting your head forward before making eye contact with them, as if that way they can ignore the red hue that's invaded your entire face. "i'm sorry i was late. i got mixed up with the subway and didn't leave home early enough."

that's not true. you've been fully prepared —makeup done and outfit on—, hours before you had to leave. however, ten minutes before you had to get off the subway, you’d looked in the mirror and decided your hair wasn't right, so you had pulled out the hair straightener and brush again. what was supposed to be a simple touch-up turned into a nearly half-hour hairstyling session in front of your bathroom mirror.

and all your effort only served to have the warm summer wind ruffle your hair as you stepped outside.

"yn, right?" isagi's mother —undoubtedly related to him, they have the same eyes— gives you a warm look that makes your heartbeat slow down a bit. "don't worry, the game's just starting, they’re late too.”

"nice to finally meet you, yn." isagi's father peeks out from behind his wife and waves in greeting, also flashing a smile that's exactly like his son's. "yoichi has told us a lot about you."

you reciprocate his gesture with another smile, and turn your head toward the field in front of you. you have a perfect view of all the players from the spot they've reserved for you —high above the field, but not so high that the teams look like simple colored dots on a green blanket. you assume the ones wearing blue are your university's team, since that’s the college’s official color.

isagi has told you about his teammates and practice many times, but somehow he never mentioned any detail about the team's kit or his number.

you're a little embarrassed to ask out loud.

"uh..." you whisper again, leaning slightly closer to isagi's mother without taking your eyes off the field. "what number is yoichi?"

"yoichi, hm?" there's a hint of amusement in his voice, teasing you for using his son's first name. "he's number eleven —there, near the long-haired redheaded boy. do you see him?"

your gaze follows her directions and rests on the blue back of number eleven. his back is turned, but his disheveled black hair and the way he walks are impossible to mistake.

“oh! yeah, i see him now, thanks." you smile, and your chronic need to fill all silences forces you to add something more “i've really been wanting to see him play."

the woman turns her head toward you, looking at you with the same kind expression you see on her son's face every morning. 

"believe me, if you were eager, he was even more so.” she says. “he won't stop talking about you."

and that sentence is enough to make you not say anything else for a while.

you started to suspect that you liked Isagi a couple of weeks ago, before your sudden disappearance —when you panicked because you had no way of contacting him to let him know that you had a family emergency. you’d been chatting since tuesday, at all hours of the day, every day until the game, and he hadn't pressed too much about what happened, probably so you wouldn’t feel bad. from what you could gather, he had been waiting for you every day —but nothing serious, really, don’t worry about it.

taking into account what you already knew about him, you assumed he'd been sitting at the table with the breakfast set, waiting for you all three days of the week. just imagining it made you want to scream into your pillow —he was so kind it made you sick. it made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

that's why you begged your parents to let you return to tokyo for at least a couple of hours that monday afternoon, because, according to you, claiming you’d left something really important at the apartment and needed to pick it up to finish your proyects. you’d run to the campus cafeteria with half your savings in your wallet, a bright green post-it note with your number written on it, and a message for the waitress.

thank god it worked, and you got a text from Isagi the next day. for a solid second, you truly thought you'd messed up completely —and that isagi hated you.

just when you were starting to process the fact that you really liked him.

because you like him. of course you like him.

more than halfway through the school year, things had started to get a little complicated for you —living alone for the first time, not having any really close friends in the city, having to navigate the capital on your own. sure, you may be a sociable and outgoing person, but sometimes everything felt too big. even for you.

and then you met isagi.

being with him is easy. talking with him is easy. feeling better, comfortable, and safe with him is easy. there came a point over these past months when you’d go to bed thinking about seeing him the next day —and he never failed. every morning, he was there, waiting for you with a coffee, a piece of toast, and a smile that started sending a weird tingling into your stomach the moment saw it.

it only took one night of facetime with your best friend back home to realize that a simple friend doesn't make you smile like a fool just thinking about them.

that, and disappearing for a whole week only to come back with a gesture straight out of an american teen romcom definitely isn’t just friends behaviour, you’d say.

a gesture straight out of a teen romcom. a smile escapes you just thinking about it, and you have to bite your lower lip so no one —not the couple next to you, at least— will notice.

but that’s exactly what you look like, right? the main characters of a movie.

you check all the boxes, if you think about it —you met in the university cafeteria every morning and started talking to share a breakfast set because —surprise— you were perfectly compatible. it became a tradition for both of you, to the point you only looked forward to seeing the other every week. then, suddenly, you disappear for a whole week when everything’s going fine, and he has no way to contact you. very convenient for the plot. but really, you hadn’t thought about exchanging socials, since you saw each other every other day anyway. 

thankfully, you managed to give him your number through the cafeteria waitress.

and now you’re at a soccer match, wearing the first blue thing you found in your mother’s closet —a scarf way too warm for a summer day, but the only thing that could pass as team merch— to show your support. his parents are sitting next to you in the stands after saving you a seat. to top it all off, it's a perfect sunny day.

what’s the next thing? a goal dedicated to you?

oh. well. mental note —you think to yourself, snapping back to reality as isagi’s mother grabs your arm excitedly— don’t be sarcastic with the universe ever again.

because, right after spiraling with thoughts of the guy you like for about fifteen whole minutes, you might suddenly find yourself standing in front of your blue seat with your hands up, that guy’s mother pulling you to your feet. your hand grips the railing of the stands, your voice drowned among the crowd’s victory screams —and your gaze searches the field for the one who just scored the first goal of the game.

don’t be sarcastic with the universe again, because when your eyes land on number eleven from the blue team, you might surprise yourself by widely smiling and joining the choir of voices chanting his name, your voice blending into the roar as his teammates lift him in celebration.

and maybe —just maybe— your gaze meets his. and as he grabs his jersey by the number and presses a kiss to it, he points straight at you and mouths, this one’s for you.

or that’s what you think he says. you can’t really hear him from up here, and now everyone’s eyes are on you, and you honestly have no idea how to react.

the match continues, thankfully, and you sit back down without having to say anything. the crowd’s attention returns the field — though you’re pretty sure isagi’s mother is still watching you, but you’re not brave enough to turn and confirm it.

isagi yoichi just dedicated a goal to me. okay. fine. that’s completely fine and means nothing.

except you don’t feel fine at all. and you’re pretty sure it does mean something.

so this time, for real, you put all your attention on the match —because, if you’re honest, you have no idea of what’s been happening on the field since the game started. you try to follow the ball and recall all the plays isagi has described to you so many times. it’s a bit difficult, though, considering you never really understood them and mostly nodded along just because you liked seeing him light up while talking about the things he loves.

yeah. maybe you’ve been down bad for longer than you thought.

as your eyes lock onto number eleven again, you start to regret not paying attention earlier.

he’s a bit far from you now, waiting on the side of the field for a pass or a chance to steal the ball, while his teammate —the one with the blond streaks— skillfully advances with it, weaving through the opposing team. but you can see him clearly.

he looks focused, deep blue eyes fixed on the ball as it draws closer, his jet-black hair waves slightly in the breeze, a few damp strands clinging to his forehead. his mouth is parted slightly, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of fast-paced breathing from running so much. his athletic shorts hug tightly around his thighs, muscles flexing as he starts to sprint after the now clear ball.

you swallow hard and blink a few times, trying to snap out of it. you're not the one who's been playing for nearly half an hour, but you're pretty sure you need a drink of water more than any of the players.

holy shit. since when is yoichi so hot?

you scratch the back of your neck nervously —a tic you’ve picked up from him—, eyes glued to the field. your face is hot and red, and you know it’s definitely not your too-warm scarf’s fault at all.

still, you can’t look away. you always knew he was handsome —way before you ever gathered the courage to talk to him—, but this is different. he looks confident, almost cocky. there’s a smug little grin when he steals the ball, raised brows when he blocks a goal, and the rest of the time he’s laser-focused, scanning the field. you can’t help but gulp every time his head turns toward the stands and his eyes land on you, even for just a second.

you don’t even catch what he’s yelling, both to his rivals and his teammates —probably not compliments or pretty words, judging by the way the crowd and even his parents react— because it’s impossible to focus on what he’s saying when he looks so aggressive and somehow so attractive doing it.

or maybe you just like him too much, and everything he does seems attractive.. 

either way, it doesn’t matter —because then he scores again, and the crowd erupts. you do too, but not because the scoreboard now reads 3-0, securing the win thanks to number ten’s earlier goal. no.

you turn bright red when, right after scoring, the striker looks straight at you —at your seat— with a confident, satisfied grin, and points at you again.

your legs actually tremble.

he’s driving you insane, and you’re pretty sure he knows it. 

you're so caught up in whatever spell he has you under that, for the rest of the match, you don't process a single a thing —even though your eyes never leave him once.

you do a good job of being a fan, though. 

you stand up with the crowd to clap and cheer when his teammates score two more goals —number 10, whose name is rin, as you've already learned, and the tall, white-haired boy, nagi. you even boo the other team when they get their first and only goal. you nod at all yoichi’s mother comments, who understands the game about as much as you do, and you smile politely at his father when he says something —which you mostly can’t hear over the crowd’s noise, but still respond to with an enthusiastic nod.

the heat gets intense enough that you’re forced to take your jacket off —not technically because of the weather, but no one but you needs to know that. by the end of the match, your jeans are rolled up and you’re left in just a tank top. but the scarf is still around your neck, and you make sure to adjust it carefully across your shoulders before following isagi’s parents down to the field once the crowd begins to disperse.

“what do you think, yn? isn’t he good?” his father asks. 

it’s the first time you can actually make out what he’s saying —the crowd had been way too loud before, and you didn’t want to repeat “what?” twenty times, so you’d just nodded and smiled.

“yeah, wow. he really is.” you answer, walking a little awkwardly between the two of them. you’re not even sure when exactly they managed to surround you “i understand now why you said he’s considered one of the best strikers in japan. i mean, he’s told me a lot about soccer, so i knew he had to be good just from how much he knows… but, wow. he’s amazing.” 

“yes, he is.” his mother adds, flashing you a wide smile. 

you meet her gaze and mirror the expression, and you know she means it when she says “we are very proud of him.”

his father nods in agreement, and something warm and fluttering blooms in your chest. it’s a weird feeling, being proud of someone just because you know others are proud of them too. feeling glad  —relieved, even— that people see him and admire him the same way you do. 

that’s love, you guess.

“he’s really thankful for you” you don’t know where it comes from, but you can’t stop yourself. “he’s told me a bunch of times. he loves you a lot.”

isagi’s mother’s smile softens, her right arm slipping around your shoulders. she adjusts your scarf gently, her fingers brushing your skin as she gives you a warm little squeeze.

“ah, we love him a lot, too.” she replies —then her kind smile shifts into something far too close to a teasing grin. “and something tells me we’re gonna love you a lot, too.”

you’re left completely speechless. you glance away quickly, unable to form a single coherent thought —let alone a response. what are you supposed to say when the mother of the guy you like basically gives you her blessing before you’re even official?

thankfully, isagi is finished talking to his coach and is now approaching you near the edge of the field. 

“yocchan!” his mother calls out, cupping her hands around her mouth to be heard —and removing her arm from around your shoulders in the process. “we’re here!”

you try to laugh at the nickname —you remember him confessing it to you a few mornings ago, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment— but you can’t. you can’t, because you’re speechless again. 

yoichi walks towards you with slow, steady steps.

his face is flushed and glistening with sweat, and his eyes still burn with the thrill of victory—there’re still traces of the same pride and confidence he only ever shows when he’s on the field in his gaze. strands of hair cling to his forehead, and his shirt, damp with sweat, sticks tightly to his frame.

then he grabs the hem of his jersey with one hand and lifts it to his face to wipe off the sweat from his mouth and nose. you try not to stare —really, you try—, but your eyes flick down to his stomach, and then straight back up to his eyes.

he's so attractive you almost choke on air.

isagi's mother starts to take a few steps toward him, but before she can reach him, a small group of girls intercepts him —practically swarming yoichi with flirtatious smiles and compliments that , judging by their tone, probably end with a request for his number.

however, despite how confident he is on the field, isagi’s not like that off of it —he’s more on the shy side. and he clearly has no interest in them at all.

he thanks them politely, as best he can, then awkwardly escapes the circle of attention they’ve trapped him in, practically jogging over to where his parents —and you— are waiting for him.

you know he's nervous when his hands goes to the back of his neck, ruffling his hair. he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out.

it's funny how the silence is broken not by him, but by the same group of girls from before.

“i have no idea who that is.” one of them says, voice pitched just loud enough to be heard “maybe his sister? or his cousin, or something.”

you both burst out laughing at the interruption—and the assumption— and just like that, the awkward tension fades, letting isagi finally speak.

“thanks for coming.” he says. “i thought you weren’t going to show for a second, when the match started and i didn’t see you.” 

“yeah, had a little subway confusion, so…”

“no! no, i didn't mean it like a complaint or anything —just an observation. i’m really glad you made it.”

you smile softly.

“yeah, i’m really glad i came, too.”

he smiles back, and suddenly, it feels like the first day again, when neither of you knew what to say after that first hi.

you swallow hard, blink, and then break the silence.

“you were… fuck, you were amazing out there.” 

you’re staring at him —a little too openly. and then it hits you: you’re not alone. “oh! i mean- i mean, you were, wow, amazing out there.” you correct yourself quickly, glancing at his parents beside you.

his father chuckles.

“don’t worry. after all the things he’s shouted on the field, a simple fuck is nothing.”

your face burns red —redder than the opposing team’s jerseys— while both his parents laugh.

and you expect isagi to laugh too, or brush it off like he did with the girls earlier. but, instead, he blushes, and looks at you with that small, lopsided smile that makes your chest ache. 

then he looks away again, ruffling his hair.

there’s your breakfast partner again. not the star athlete —just the cute guy from the cafeteria that studies psychology and plays soccer.

"thanks. you, uh..”

he glances at his mom, who subtly gestures, nudging him to say more —like this is something they’ve rehearsed.

"you look very pretty today.” he finally says. 

then he adds, quickly:

“i mean, you always do —not just today. but you look specially pretty today." and he’s babbling again "that blue scarf looks great on you. but, uh, you also look kind of like you’re suffocating?”

you laugh. if only he knew it’s not the weather, but him, what’s making your face so red.

"i remembered uni's color was blue” you explain, fingers fidgeting with the end of the scarf. “didn’t have any merch, so i just tried to support you with whatever i had at home.”

what you don’t mention is that you stole it from you mom’s closet back in your hometown, after having a full-blown crisis over not owning anything remotely close to your college’s colors.

“well, i could give you something.” he offers, voice low and a bit nervous. “i have a few spare jerseys at home." 

you’re about to answer —or collapse, honestly, because you’re pretty sure this is the kind of things official couples do in cliché romantic movies— but then his mom cuts in:

“speaking of that —why don’t you come over, yn?” she asks. “i made yocchan’s favorite meal today. have lunch with us? he told us you live alone, so there’s no issue, right?” 

you start to understand where isagi got his talent for yapping.

“we’ll get to know you better, yoichi thanks you for coming to the game, and he gives you his jersey." 

your brain becomes a chaotic mess of thoughts. you want to say yes, obviously. you want to thank her for the invitation. you want to ask isagi what giving you his jersey means. you want to see his room and his house, but you also kind of want to run back to your place, dive onto your bed, and scream into a pillow.

isagi misreads your hesitation.

"mom, she might have plans. don’t pressure her—" 

"no, no, i’d love to go!" you interrupt quickly. 

yoichi raises a brow, clearly surprised —he knows you don’t really like his favorite dish. you’ve been bickering about it for weeks.

"thank you for inviting me."

"you heard her, yoichi, she said yes.” his mom beams. “now go shower, you’re still red from the match. you’ve got fifteen minutes, meet us at the car. meanwhile, yn and us have lots to talk about.”

somehow, she doesn’t make it sound like a threat, more like an invitation. 

drawing a smile, isagi mumbles a soft "sorry" before heading to the locker room. as he walks away, you call out: “i´ll be fine. i think she likes me." 

isagi’s smile is wide and bright right before he disappears through the locker room door. he’s so wrapped up in his own joy —so stupidly in love— he doesn’t even notice the trap he’s just walked into.

inside, the locker room is already full. his teammates are waiting, ready to tease him.

"i have some spare jerseys" karasu mocks, his voice high-pitched, grinning wide. "i could give you one”

isagi throws his towel at him.

"oh, shut up”

"nah, thats a good move, isagi" otoya chimes in “i've done that a bunch. nothing makes me play better than having a cute girl with my number on in the stands”

isagi doesn't love the comparison. otoya is famous for rotating girls every match —and that’s so not him. definitely not with you. 

he wants you at all his games. he wants you to be the only one ever, actually. for everything. only you, even if it seems too intense.

"its not like that" isagi says "i really like her. like… marry-her-like-her. having-kids-with-her-like-her. celebrate-christmas-with-her-like-her. ” 

otoya blinks.

"huh? well, i like all my girlfriends a lot too.”

isagi doesn’t respond —mostly because chigiri and reo immediately jump into a debate with otoya about how what he just said is probably offensive to, like, every girl in the country. and in the world.

still, one word lingers in his mind.

girlfriend. 

yeah. he wouldn’t mind calling you that at all.

masterlist.

tags ౨ৎ @ireallylikemenalot @rohfulike @numberonenessandnagistan @blu3-l0v3r .ᐟ (i tagged everyone who asked for the part 2, hope u dont mind <3 tell me if u want me to remove u from the list no prob!!)

﹫luvseisagi, june 2025.

[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 001 ! the left side

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

authors note reader’s official emoji is a panda! also most of the interview dialogue is real (from two videos combined) lol

previous <> masterlist <> next

you and your group had arrived at the scene. the entrance process was rushed seeing as you were all running a little late. but despite being short on time, the six of you still stopped to wave at your fans before heading inside.

“take your places. we are late after all, i would expect that enhypen is already out on stage.” your manager informed, ushering you all out from behind the camera.

and she was right after all. they were in fact waiting for your group, respectfully bowing their heads as you and your members made way to take the spot beside them.

luck was in your favor, as you were instructed to stand next to ni-ki. you couldn’t resist your stares, carefully trying to sneak a glance, only to see he was already looking at you. he smiled at how your cheeks flushed pink.

the mc’s, eunchae and sangmin, quickly adjusted their lifeguard outfits while they waited for the intro music to end before starting their introduction.

“we are the mansaez!” they announced together. “shall we meet enhypen, who is back with a sweet melody?” eunchae read off the script. “welcome!”

“one, two, connect! hello we are enhypen!” jungwon introduced the group.

sangmin quickly greeted them, before going to introduce newjeans. “this time, let’s meet the girls that the world has been waiting for. shall we meet newjeans, who are back with supernatural? welcome!”

“two, three. hello, we are newjeans!” minji spoke into the microphone.

“nice to meet you all. to start off the interview, let’s first go to sunghoon. sunghoon, as a previous mc of music bank, how does it feel to be back?”

“i’m happy to be back after a long time. i’m also happy to be back with our second full length album, romance untold, and the fact that we are able to share this with our fans.” sunghoon smiled to the camera.

“now, hyein. you weren’t able to participate in the last comeback. how does it feel to be back on stage?”

eunchae and sangmin took turns asking you all questions. but as unprofessional as it was, you felt yourself zoning out, still completely stunned by the fact nishimura riki was real, and right next to you. you were so close, your shoulders practically touched his.

the sound of your name being called by eunchae drew you back into reality, pulling you out of the clouds. “y/n! we’ve heard ni-ki doesn't show the left side of his face, but we finally got to see that in enhypens latest comeback. since it's known that you have admired enhypen for so long, how do you feel about this?"

and immediately, all the blood that was meant to pump into your brain, left, and rushed to your cheeks. you felt lightheaded, but you knew your face was burning.

you stood there frozen in shock, your mic jittering in your shaky hands. you suddenly felt more nervous than you were before, as you made the rookie mistake of turning to look at the boy next to you. he stared at you so expectantly, with a glimmer in his eyes.

“o-oh? i didnt know these types of things could be shared..” you awkwardly laughed, playing it off as you just being shy. “i think its charming because its not something we get to see often? i suppose.” you answered, playing it safe. because really, how do you respond to a question like that?

riki smiled at your response, nodding his head in approval.

haerin, who was next to you with her arm pressing into yours, gave you a small thumbs up of encouragement. maybe you didn’t do as bad as you thought.

“ni-ki, how do you feel about this?” sangmin asked.

“ah, me? sorry. i find it cute that you think i’m charming, even if it’s something i don’t do often.” he replied, looking at you the whole time he spoke.

you remained the eye contact for a few moments, causing the air to run thick as it stayed silent.

the mc’s shrugged it off, not thinking too much of it, before keeping the interview going by continuing to ask the other members their questions.

and before you knew it, the interview was over.

as soon as the cameras cut, you thanked eunchae and sangmin, then the enhypen members. riki reached out to shake your hand, his touch lingering for a moment before pulling away.

you smiled as he smirked at you while you both went your separate ways.

the music bank interview had ended 6 hours ago. it was now 10 pm, and you laid on danielle’s bed with your head in her lap as she braided your hair. hanni was sat next to you with her legs crossed, engrossed in some game hyein showed her the other day.

“my god. that was so embarrassing!” you whined as you saw a clip of today’s interview on tiktok, grabbing hanni’s pillow from beside to her as you screamed into it.

danielle quickly moved her hands away in surprise. “hey, i said don’t move! now the mini braid is all frizzy.” she pouted, undoing it to start over.

“it wasn’t that bad. at least you managed to not cause a dating scandal! fans are going crazy over the interaction on twitter.” hanni informed you in a comforting manner, handing you her phone.

“i don’t care about what people online think. it was more about the fact that i embarrassed myself in front of riki.” you mumbled, before scrolling through hanni’s phone to see what netizens were saying.

“that’s so humiliating. not them clipping my every movement..” you sighed with a frown.

at that moment, minji walked in with haerin behind her, from the other room that you three shared.

everyone was now together in the second bedroom of the dorm.

“come on y/n. let’s go get some snacks from the convenience store. you need some fresh air.” minji spoke, taking the phone out your grasp and returning it to hanni. she pulled you up to your feet, gesturing for you to put some shoes on.

“right now? i’m wearing pajamas.” you raised a brow, examining yourself in the mirror. you wore your long sleeve shirt, and your baggy pajamas pants, along with the slides you had just put on.

“so am i.” she shrugged. “come on, just you and me. you’ll feel better.”

reluctantly, you followed minji out the door, dreading the fact you may be recognized like this in public.

“i guess we’ll be back.” you waved to your other members who remained inside.

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @itzningning @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona

[neiptune]

the entire party thinks we're dating

cw: 4.5k wc, female reader, sendo registers oliver on one of those rent a boyfriend for a day websites as a prank and you just so happen to need a date for another wedding you really don't want to attend on your own—

When you swing the door open, you can’t help but blink a few times at the sight before your eyes.

“Oh”, you say.

The man staring back with a lopsided smile, hands buried in the pockets of what looks like an expensive suit, raises his brows.

“Oh?”, he parrots, “thought we could start with hello, nice to meet you”.

“Sorry, it’s just…”, you tilt your head, “I get why you’re so expensive. They weren’t kidding with that description”.

When you leave the door open and waltz back into the living room, Oliver takes it as an invitation to come in.

“Can you remind me what that description said?”, the sound of the door being softly pushed closed echoes in the silent room while you’re busy checking yourself out in the mirror above the couch.

“Friendly, tall, incredibly charming, devastatingly handsome. Something like that”.

He smirks, catching your gaze in the mirror.

“And you just validated all that, huh?”.

You click your tongue.

“We’ll see about the friendly, incredibly charming part”.

“Devastatingly handsome it is then, I’ll take the compliment. You look really good in that dress, by the way”.

“Don’t”, you scoff, “you’re too hot to be that much of a clichè”.

He hums, amused.

“Not too hot to tell the truth. You know, for someone so wary, it’s surprising you’d let me pick you up at your place”.

“Not her place”, Chisako’s voice startles him and you sigh, turning to the mirror once more: your hair is being exceptionally stubborn.

“Listen… what’s your name again?”, your best friend eyes him up and down, hands on her hips.

“I’m Oliver”, he replies, seemingly amused. You meet his gaze in the mirror once more.

“Listen, Oliver. You do anything to her, anything, and I’ll kill you. Won’t even go through the fuss of pressing charges, you hear me?”.

“That’s sweet”.

She narrows her gaze.

“You think I’m kidding? Hands to yourself and don’t try anything funny”.

“Hey, just a quick reminder, she rented me”.

“You, don’t talk to my friend like that”, you finally whip around, exasperated, “and you, please don’t scare my very expensive date away yet. I still need him”.

With a scoff, Chisako lightly slaps your finger away from her chest.

“Fine. Share your location and call me if you need anything. Keep your phone with you”, you soften when you read the sincere worry swarming in her eyes and smile.

“Deal. Thank you”, with a deep breath, you grab your purse and take an uncertain step back, “do I look okay?”.

“More than okay, you’re…”.

“Beautiful”.

You both look at him, skeptical.

“You don’t have to do that”.

“Do what?”, Oliver chuckles, “let me guess, you think that was also a lie”.

“Hot and smart? You really are the whole package”, with a scoff, you walk past him and toward the front door, where you slip your very pretty, very uncomfortable heels on.

Still evidently amused, he opens the door for you and offers his arm to walk you down the stairs of the old apartment complex. Chisako waits on the balcony, arms folded and resting on the black railing. You look up and she waves, making you chuckle.

When Oliver leans forward to open the car door for you, you look at him astonished.

“You came… in a porsche?”.

He grins.

“I mean, you did pay for the whole package”.

Right.

“So, we’re gonna need a story, right? Am I your boyfriend or are we just casually dating?”, the smaller space you’re now sharing is ruthless in making you notice the details you couldn’t catch in your friend’s apartment. The man starting the engine and now sitting dangerously close to you smells unfairly good and the deep rumble of his voice, low, intimate, feels as soft as velvet. It almost resembles the purr of a big cat.

“Boyfriend. We met about two months ago and only recently made it official”.

“Sounds good to me”, he briefly glances at you with a smile, “whose wedding is it, anyway?”.

You grimace.

“An old colleague. She’s never gonna buy this but we can do our best”.

“Are you doubting me or yourself right now?”.

With a snort, you gesture vaguely.

“You’re an incredibly attractive guy who drives a sports car. No one at that wedding is going to believe I could bag that”.

“It’s my job to make sure they do”, Oliver clicks his tongue, “besides, I think I’d have a much harder time charming you. I’m pretty easy to bag”.

His absolutely serious tone makes you melt into a chuckle, which he seems to appreciate. Head slightly turned, you focus on his profile for a brief moment. The bridge of his nose, full lips, long lashes. You wonder if he’s using contacts. He must be, right? There’s no way he’d be blessed with those eyes too, among everything else.

“You’re staring”, he mutters, still focused on the road. The playful lilt of his tone makes you shift in your seat.

“You’re nice to look at”.

He huffs out a sound that sounds like a chuckle, both amused and somehow coy.

“How come you ended up on that website? You don’t seem like the type who’d need to rent a man”.

You stay silent for a few seconds, looking straight ahead while lost in your own thoughts. Truth is, you’re not quite sure yourself. It’s true: you’re definitely not the type and, suddenly, the entirety of the absurd situation weighs heavy on your chest.

You’re in a car, with a man you know nothing about, heading to a wedding party where everyone will be able to call your bluff. And you spent an embarrassing amount of money for this, too.

“I think I’m about to throw up”, you murmur.

“Excuse me?”.

“I’m seriously about to throw up. Oh, no. What was I thinking?”, your hands rise to cover your face, “stop the car, please”.

“We’re on the highway”.

“But I’m about to throw-”

“Please stop talking about throwing up, the thought of someone vomiting triggers my gag reflex”, Oliver sends an alarmed glance your way but you’re refusing to meet his gaze, practically bending over in your own seat, “think of the leather seats”.

“I don’t care about your stupid leather seats!”.

“You were fine ten seconds ago-”

“Oliver”, the way you straight out whine his name all of a sudden tucks the words back into his throat, “I don’t even know you. Oh, god, what if you’re a maniac? What if you try to murder me? I’m in a car with a man I don’t know, I spent so much money only to end up dead in a ditch!”.

“Okay, listen-”

“I’m sorry, I know this is a really weird reaction but I’m freaking out big time, I never did this before-”

“Me neither!”.

Your eyes grow in size and your jaw slacks, panic overcoming your features. Oliver clears his throat.

“I mean, I never had to convince an entire audience at a wedding. My dates were always a walk in the park, an afternoon at the mall, one movie, an ice cream on the way home”, he lies so easily it almost makes him laugh. Either way, Oliver slows down and gently stops the car, parking it on the shoulder of the highway.

“Hey”, he tentatively reaches for your wrist, to gently remove one of your hands from your face, “can you look at me? You said I’m nice to look at, no?”.

“You are. Which would make you the perfect murderer”, you whisper. Still, you comply and find an incredulous smile brightening up his face.

“Jesus. Okay, listen, I promise you can trust me. I won’t hurt you. If you changed your mind I can drive you home right now, or drop you off at the venue and leave”. 

“Really?”.

“Really”.

You inhale a deep breath and relax against your seat underneath the weight of his honest, magnetic gaze.

“I’m sorry. You must think I’m insane”.

“Believe it or not, I’ve met more insane people”, he smiles.

You lower your gaze.

“It’s just… not something I would usually do. I was really tired of being always the lonely one at weddings and social gatherings, I never let the teasing get to me but I guess I started feeling”, you pause to look for the right word, “vulnerable. I don’t have to prove anything but I was just so sick of it. And this particular colleague is insufferable, she’s been with the guy ever since high school and just kept talking my ear off about true love, soulmates, all that bullshit…”, Oliver laughs and you look up from your lap.

“What?”.

“Nothing”, he raises both hands in mock protection, “keep going”.

You glare at him.

“Well, that’s the story. I was exhausted, drank an entire bottle of wine, found the website, booked the most expensive option because I really wanted to rub it in their faces. Then I almost had a panic attack about it, apparently”.

“The most expensive, huh?”, his blatant smugness makes you groan.

“You know you are the most expensive”.

He doesn’t, really. But it’s surely a pleasant learning.

“Right. Well, I’m ready to be your arm candy and piss the bride off if you’ll have me”, Oliver flashes you another smile, “you know, I’m sure she hired a good glam team but I’m willing to bet my date still looks better”.

“You’re such a flirt”, you smile and idly shake your head, “you know what? Fine. What the hell, I deserve a few hours with a hot dude who says I look pretty. Let’s go piss the bride off”.

He starts the engine again with a pleased hum.

“Please pay more attention, I remember saying you look beautiful”.

“Ugh, they really know what they’re doing on that website”, you laugh, sudden and loud and genuine.

Oliver never thought Sendo’s dumb prank was something he’d resent him for. On the contrary, he decided to go with it just one time, for the sake of having a funny story to share one day.

Now, with the vivacious laughter of the (not entirely sane) stranger currently in his car still ringing in his ears, he knows he made the right decision.

Oliver is not prepared for the way you surprise him.

He has witnessed enough unsettling transformations in his life, hell, he still sometimes becomes another person on the field, but the switch you turn on the second you both walk into the reception is… staggering.

No one would be able to tell you had a breakdown in his car just moments prior to walking into the venue. Watching the way you carry yourself, how you talk to everyone, the confidence embedded in every word and movement is mesmerizing. Makes him doubt of his own sanity because what if he imagined you almost throwing up on his expensive seats?

His thumb idly runs over your knuckles as you introduce him to yet another friend. The boyfriend renting agreement comes with some important rules: the date is to be strictly platonic and there’s a fixed hourly rate which gets higher the more requested a boyfriend is. You briefly discussed some boundaries, to make sure the other is comfortable at all times: Oliver can’t kiss you and you can’t kiss him, but everything else is pretty much allowed. You asked if it was okay for him to hold your hand and he made it pretty clear that it wasn’t a problem, or so the fingers so easily slipping in between yours seemed to suggest. 

You kiss each other’s cheek and rest your heads on each other’s shoulder and your hands are so gentle as they move strands of dark hair away from his eyes. His arm feels solid and comforting around your shoulders, hand warm against the small of your back as he guides you through the garden filled with tables and guests.

Surprising Oliver is not easy but something weird happens when you call him baby for the first time. He wonders how you can make it sound so natural, where you learned to be a liar good enough to have your eyes sparkle like that, on demand. He’s there to have a fun story to share but he’s also supposed to do the work, to do what’s expected of him. Instead, it feels like you’re pulling the strings and all he can do is try to stay afloat within your current.

He surprises you too. When a few guests gather around you two, wonder shimmering in their eyes, friends asking where you even got to meet a pro soccer player, you look at him as shocked and rightfully confused as a fake girlfriend would be.

“She asked if she could get a jersey signed for…”, Oliver searches your gaze in silent demand and you clear your throat, still flabbergasted.

“Kenji”, you offer an easy smile.

The man standing on Oliver’s left, supposedly Kenji himself, gasps.

“Right, Kenji”, Oliver smiles too, “I told her I would only sign it if she went on a date with me”.

“He has that romantic blackmail thing about him, I fell for it instantly”, you ever so slightly narrow your gaze and, in response, he tightens his hold around your waist.

“You’ve been dating him for months and you didn’t think of getting us tickets to some games?”, another one of your old colleagues, Yoshio, pouts.

“You’ve been dating him for months and you didn’t think of getting us the numbers of some pro soccer players?”, your friend Yumi practically shoves Yoshio out of the way and you finally relax, melting into genuine laughter.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Guess we can still make that happen, right, baby?”, there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes when you look at him. He thinks he might get used to being looked at with such daring playfulness.

“Sure. Shuto’s always happy to go on dates-”

“Sendo Shuto?”, Yumi’s eyes get as big as saucers. This time, Oliver laughs with you.

It shouldn’t come as a shock that he’s good at what he does but you still can’t quite believe just how talented he is as a fake boyfriend. You’re aching to ask questions, the entire dinner spent wondering what on earth a famous pro soccer player is even doing on a rent a boyfriend website. Nothing gets past social media these days, wouldn’t that be news eventually? How does he keep it a secret? Is it a second job, a weird fetish?

Akane’s never been particularly traditional from what you can recall but her husband really wanted to incorporate as much traditional customs as possible in their celebration. You sit through course after course of plates and bowls filled with delicious dishes: clear soup with shrimp cake, sashimi, grilled fish glazed with sweet miso, tempura, red rice. All the while Oliver, ankle hooked around yours underneath the table, makes perfect conversation with everyone. He has an answer ready to each question and you pretend to ignore both your colleagues’ and Akane’s bewildered, inquisitorial gazes directed at you from tables away, too busy reciprocating your date’s honeyed praises and smiles.

He gets you alone in between courses, right as everyone is either taking a break or bringing the dancefloor to life before fruit and cake are served. They won’t buy it if we don’t pull away from the crowd for a little bit.

It’s why Oliver currently has you pressed against a retaining wall in a more secluded but still strategically visible part of the garden, body towering over yours and so close you can feel the heat radiating through the fabric of his white shirt.

“A pro soccer player”, you click your tongue, “care to explain?”.

“Relax your shoulders”, he murmurs and smiles, pleased, when you comply right away, “I owe you a date, not explanation”.

You deflate a bit and Oliver curls further over you.

“Fine, keep your secrets”, a pause, “won’t this be a problem if someone takes some pics and leaks them, though?”.

“I stopped caring about that stuff long time ago. But I can have everyone here sign an nda to protect you from it, just say the word”.

You shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’m not really on social media and we’ll split up by tomorrow, anyway”.

“Aw, you’ll break my heart”, one of his hands rises to rest on the side of your neck, thumb softly tracing your jaw, “even after validating how friendly and incredibly charming I am. So cold”.

There’s something about him, a stranger you paid to pretend to be your boyfriend for the sake of not attending yet another wedding alone. It’s odd and has your heart thumping in your chest, something behind your ribs catching fire whenever his fingers graze your skin so intentionally. You wonder if this is really him, if he’s the person you feel so inexplicably drawn to. If there’s a chance of you not being stupid enough to be attracted to a faux boyfriend with a carefully crafted, fictitious personality.

“Make it look like you’re kissing me”, you ignore his teasing for the sake of your sanity and slightly tilt your head up to meet the dangerous glint of mismatched eyes. Oliver lowers his head and tilts it slightly to the side, lips moving against your cheek when he speaks again.

“Put your arms around my neck”, he orders back in a murmur. Your scoff makes him chuckle as he pretends to not notice how you shiver against him.

“This is such a weird side job to have”, your embrace pulls him closer, or maybe it’s the lightest brush of your lips against his chin. When your fingers start carding through the green hair at the base of his nape, he exhales.

“Maybe it’s not a side job. Maybe I’m just here for you, just this once”.

You idly brush your nose against his cheek, a feeling warm and treacherous unfurling in your chest. He pulls back enough to lock your gaze to his once more, still so intense despite being concealed by the partial darkness of this particular corner of the garden. He is so unfairly beautiful. Not far from where you stand, guests are laughing and drinking and dancing, some of them no doubt looking at you two. It’s striking, how little they suddenly matter.

“Maybe that makes me lucky, then”, you whisper, lean into his touch when his other hand cradles your cheek. Oliver gently holds your face in his hands, seemingly conflicted as his gaze falls on your lips. You tilt your head back to give him a better view.

An absurd thought takes shape in a far corner of your mind: will this truly be the one and only time you’ll get to see him? Not that you’d ever be pathetic enough to rent a man from a website multiple times. Let alone the same man. It’s such a weird, ridiculous thing to be disappointed by. You wonder if it’ll rival the disappointment of not being kissed by him.

Oliver wets his lips, the pink flash of his tongue alluring in a maddening way. Your head spins. You don’t recall ever feeling such unusual torment before.

And then, finally, finally, he leans closer.

“Hey, lovebirds!”, Akane’s cheerful tone makes you both jump and you bring a hand to your chest as Oliver takes a wobbly step back, “we didn’t have the chance to chat, are you having fun?”.

She’s not talking to you at all, attentive gaze set on the man next to you.

“Everything’s perfect, thank you for having us. I wish you both everlasting happiness”, you smile, a little tense.

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t surprised. One almost wishes he was around for all those office christmas parties, right? Remember how you were always the only one to show up alone?”.

You clear your throat, shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I remember. Always alone and yet still the funniest person in every room, without fail”, with a wink, you hope to conceal the soreness caused by her ungenerous words.

Akane hums.

“I still wonder why that’s such a great coping mechanism…”

“It proves she doesn’t need a man to have a personality”, Oliver straight out grins, one hand comes to rest on your nape and gives it a gentle squeeze, “it’s what I like about her”.

She raises her brows in interest.

“Well, that’s true. She’s pretty great”.

“Yeah, she is”.

You relax under his touch and a strange thrill comes with it, with knowing he possesses the ability to make you feel at ease. He doesn’t exactly dislike such knowledge.

“I’m glad you have each other now”, Akane’s features soften, “maybe one day I’ll be invited to your wedding!”.

You cough, embarrassed.

“Let’s not go overbo-”

“Maybe!”, Oliver chimes in once again, jovial, “who can tell?”.

It almost makes you choke on air. When you look up at him, Akane’s cheerful laughter echoing in the sweet summer evening air, he’s already looking at you.

As you stumble back to join the other guests, heels sinking in the soft grass, the bride gently grazes your arm with the pads of her fingers before rejoining her husband and their closest friends. You know Akane is not a bad person, her words don’t hold any actual venom despite stinging. In her own way she means well, which is why you are so genuinely happy for her. She got the happy ending she was always destined to have. It’s just that not everyone is as lucky and it’s unfair to expect them to be just because she’s part of the chosen ones.

“Where are you going?”, Oliver hooks a finger in the low square back of your dress to pull you in, the contact setting something similar to a flow of electricity running along your spine.

“To eat cake?”, you easily dissimulate. He keeps his finger there, even when you stop in your tracks.

“Let them”, he winks, “may I have this dance?”.

You stay frozen.

“Did you just casually quote Marie Antoinette to me?”, is all you can come up with because, frankly, the idea of a man who already possesses so many blessings being also able to dance is a little too unfair.  

“Can’t a man be hot and educated?”, he grins, then finally releases the back of your dress by letting the stretch fabric lightly slap against your back, “don’t think you can distract me, let’s go”.

If there’s one learning to be taken from this impossibly strange evening is that, apparently, there is no escaping Oliver Aiku. He even rivals the promise of a rich serving of white chocolate almond cake with raspberry filling.

He pulls you close on the interlocking parquet dance floor rented by the newlyweds, hands splayed big and warm on your hips as your arms, for the second time, find their way to rest around his neck. You do your best to not feel intimidated by the excessively romantic, slow track everyone else is currently dancing to as well.

Then, it’s as if a spell is cast on you. Or rather a curse.

“Who is he?”, the question surprises you and your eyes find his. Oliver is so close and he smells so unethically good.

“Who?”, yet you struggle to keep your focus, attention oscillating between the stranger you’re currently pressed against and a more familiar face your wandering eyes keep searching, dancing not far from you. Something painfully throbs in your chest.

“The man you keep looking at, who is he?”, Oliver asks softly, almost caringly.

“My ex-boyfriend”, the confession isn’t but a low whisper, “I think. I think he’s here with the woman he cheated on me with. Well, one of them, anyway”, your chuckle is bitter. It distorts the joyfulness of the evening, the mere sight of them suddenly staining, polluting every positive feeling you’ve been able to feel until now.

And then Oliver is grasping your chin, tilting his head to effectively block your view of them. You’re forced to look at him and only him, to focus on how his thumb skating over the skin underneath your bottom lip feels.

“How about you keep your eyes on me, then?”, he whispers.

“Sorry”, you stop yourself with a sigh when your gaze slides once more, “I’m sorry. It’s really stupid”.

“What is?”, his gaze, perhaps involuntarily, falls on your lips, “caring? Feeling hurt?”.

“Don’t do that”.

“What?”.

“Don’t… like, I know this is an act. But you don’t have to do that too, pretend to care. You’re a little too good at it and it confuses me”.

Oliver lets go of your chin and offers a faint smile.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you confuse me too”.

You blink a few times, taken aback. He gracefully takes one of your hands from behind his neck and lifts your arm above your head to twirl you. For a moment, his eyes appreciate the airy swirl of the hem of your dress.

“I’m only pretending to be your boyfriend”, everything else feels a little too real, he wants to add. Maybe you’ll read the unsaid in eyes he can’t seem to be able to keep on anything else but you.

“You have a gift”, with a smile, you choose to deflect, “ever thought of giving up the soccer career?”.

“For this, you mean?”, Oliver goes from having his hands on your hips to hooking his arms around your waist, effectively caging you against him. Your forehead grazes his and the wind is swiftly knocked out of your lungs at the sudden proximity.

“Something like that, yeah”, one of your hands toys with his green strands once more, nails lightly scratching the back of his neck. A sound of contentment vibrates low in his throat and it makes you want to pull him close, impossibly closer.

He tilts his head to the side and you feel dizzy because his lips are ever so slightly brushing against yours. Not quite touching them, never kissing them, just there as a faint reminder or rather an intoxicating promise.

“You have to go in about five minutes”, you whisper, perhaps for the sake of feeling more of his mouth so close yet still too far from your own.

“Mm?”, he only manages to let out a confused sound.

You let your nose brush against his own. Playfully, daringly.

“I could only afford a couple hours, not the entire night”.

Oliver welcomes the implications of your admission with a low chuckle.

“And if I stay?”.

“I may be too broke for that”.

He presses a kiss to the very corner of your mouth. Sweet, fleeting. Determined.

“My treat”.

He can keep it platonic for about five more minutes.

[angstywaifu]

Bondage - Azriel

Request/Prompts - "I want to ruin you.” & "A little biting never hurt anybody.” Summary: You need rescuing from someone at Starfall, and Mor sends in the Shadowsinger. Little did they know a certain bond would snap into place as he looks you in the eye. Unable to process his emotions, Azriel winnows you to his room where a night neither of you will forget takes place. Warnings: smut, nsfw, 18+, pet names, oral (f receiving), shadow play, bondage

Kinktober MasterList

As per usual Rhys and Feyre had gone all out for Starfall this year. The House of Wind full decorated for the occasion. Ever since Nyx was born they had always gone all out for any holidays, clearly wanting to give him the best memories. And I wasn’t complaining, I loved the holidays. But especially Starfall.

A soft knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts and I turn to see Mor stepping inside. As per usual, she looks beautiful. The blue dress she’d chosen for the occasion hugged her figure beautifully, and the colour look amazing on her.

She grins widely at me as she approaches, hands already reaching out to touch my dress. Most of the girls opted for lighter colours for Starfall to represent the souls passing on. But this year’s I had opted for something darker. A sheer black dress, lace strategically placed to cover me, and black sequins scattered across the fabric that caught the light perfectly.

“Holy shit, you look gorgeous.” She explains as her fingers run over the fabric. “Trying to catch a certain males attention?”

I roll my eyes at her, turning back to the mirror as fasten my necklace. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look nice, especially when Feyre has gone all out.”

“That wasn’t a no Y/N,” she teases, catching her smile in the mirror as she peers over my shoulder.

“And it wasn’t a yes.” I say sternly as I turn to face her. “If it was going to happen, it would have. So I figure, may as well get out there you know.”

I catch what almost looks like sadness in her eyes, but she’s quick to hide it as she smiles at me and nods.

“Well I can assure you, you’re definitely going to get someone to notice you tonight. If you leave tonight without a date I’ll be surprised.” She reaches out and grabs my hand. “So let’s go get you a drink and out there and mingling.”

And drinking and mingling is what we did. Though once Emerie had arrived Mor had excused her self to go say hello. That was over an hour ago. And now I no longer had her to help me escape conversations that weren’t going well.

The male in front of me currently was bragging about his business and all the money had made. Clearly trying to impress me with it. I do my best to smile and nod, making polite comments where I can, but it was becoming tiresome.

I cast my gaze across the crowd and finally catch the eyes of Mor who was clearly looking over to see how I was going. I do my best to convey I need help with a slight nod towards the male who was too enamoured by his own story to notice. She nods before holding up a finger to signal she needs a minute before she turns and rushes off into the crowd. What the hell could she need a minute for? Usually Mor would just march over and pull me away. What was she up to?

A few seconds later I get my answer. A familiar feeling of a shadow swirling around my arm tingles my skin causing me to shiver slightly. And as the male in front of me turns his head, eyes going wide, I know how Mor as chosen to rescue me.

“Sorry to intrude,” Azriel’s smooth voice announces from next to me as he falls into place next to me. “But I need to borrow Y/N here for some official Night Court business.”

The male nods quickly before scampering off into the crowd, clearly intimidated by Azriel. And I couldn’t blame him. With his height, build and wings, Azriel looked intimidating. And his reputation as the Spy Master didn’t help either.

“You didn’t have to scare him off,” I joke, placing my empty glass down on the bar before turning to Azriel.

As I meet his gaze his shadows rush over my, causing my to tear my eyes from him as I start giggling and watching them. Causing me to miss the way Azriel’s eyes widen.

By the time he’s recalled them his face is withdrawn and reserved, a look I rarely see on him unless he’s working.

“You ok Az?” I ask, stepping forward to place a hand on his arm.

Azriel was usually one to welcome my touch, but he goes rigid as I place my hand on him. I withdraw my hand before looking up at him, noting the wild look in his eyes and the way his nostrils flare.

“Az, what’s wro-“

My words are cut short as Azriel grasps my wrist in his hand, pulling me close before the familiar feeling of winnowing washes over me. I stumble forward in to Azriel, clutching the front of his shirt as his smell engulfs me. Despite being so close to him I know it’s not that. And as I look around I notice we’re in his room. Which I barely have time to register before a yelp escapes my lips as he pins me to the door.

I open my mouth to speak, but a change in smell has me falling silent. It smelt like Azriel, but it was different. His scent far more potent and…. Sweet. Alluring. My eyes going wide at the realisation. I look up and meet his eyes, so blown out I can barely see any hazel in them. As if his shadows have consumed his eyes. There’s a hunger and want in them I’ve never seen when he’s looked at me before. But now it’s as if he’s fighting back the urge to claim me. To make me his. A similar feeling washing over me, that doesn’t feel entirely like my own feelings. A feeling I’ve only had described to me by Feyre and Nesta. As if sensing my realisation, a small tug pulls in my chest. As if connected to someone else who’s pulling on the other end. I imagine tugging back, Azriel’s eyes widening, his shadows going frantic in response as if also affected by the new bond.

Azriel leans down, closing his eyes as he rests his forehead on mine as he breathes deeply. “Sorry for reacting like that, it just took me by surprise.” His voice sounds strained, as if he’s holding himself back.

“It’s ok Az, you don’t need to be sorry.” I say softly as I loosen my grip on his shirt slightly,

He shakes his head slightly. “No, it was inappropriate. Especially in front of all those people. I…. I let my emotions get the better of me.”

I reach up and lay a hand on his cheek, his still blown out eyes looking down at me through his lashes. “Would it be so bad to let those emotions take over?” My voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales heavily, holding in a breath I hadn’t realised he was holding. “Yes Y/N, it would. Because right now every fibre of my being wants to claim you as mine. Claim you as my mate. I want to ruin you.”

His words ignite a fire in me. My body reacting to his words and the new mating bond. I watch as his nostrils flair, noting the change in my scent. The sweetness of my arousal now heavy in the air as it melds with his.

I step forward, closing the small gap between Azriel and I, his hands dropping from where they’re braced on the door either side of my head to rest on my hips. “That doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

The only warning I get is his fingers digging into my hips before his mouth is one mine, my back hitting the door again as he walks us back. I shiver as his shadows weave around us, as if joining us together even more. The kiss is desperate and needy, filled with longing and lust. Both of us fighting for dominance in the kiss. A fight I win as I weave my fingers into his hair, tugging on the soft black locks, causing Azriel to go rigid as he groans deeply. And it’s all I need to take control of the kiss, spinning us so Azriel’s back hits the door. My hands trailing from his hair down to the buttons of his shirt, my fingers fumbling to get the buttons undone.

I gasp as a cold sensation runs down my back, something grabbing the ribbons holding me into the dress and tugging on the ends, loosening the corseted back. Confusion washes over me as I feel Azriel’s hands knead the flesh of my hips. And as I break the kiss and look down, I confirm that his hands are still firmly on my hips. I feel the cold sensation on my shoulder, turning my head slightly I note the shadow caressing over my shoulder. I can’t help giggle as it continues to caress over my shoulder as Azriel nuzzles into my neck, light but desperate kisses trailing down my neck.

The shadows finally loosen the dress, the fabric falling from my body as the ribbon gives way. Instantly Azriel pushes me back slightly to look at me. I go to cover myself, suddenly feeling embarrassed under his intense gaze. His shadows are far faster than me though, wrapping around my wrists and binding my hands behind me. The movement causing my shoulders back, pushing my breasts out towards Azriel as he eyes them hungrily.

He lunges at me, hands grasping the back of my thighs as he picks me up. Thankfully his shadows disappear from my wrists allowing me to grasp onto Azriel as he walks us backwards towards his bed before dropping my down onto the sheets. My arousal peaking as he looks down at my hungrily, his shirt half undone giving me a glimpse at the hardened and toned muscles beneath. As if sensing where my gaze lingers, he quickly loosens the last of the buttons before tossing the shirt to the floor. I go to sit up, hand raised to help him with his pants, but they’re suddenly yanked above my head. His cold shadows wrapping around my wrists again. I turn my head to watching them secure themselves around the posts of the bed, leaving me at the mercy of the Illirian at the end of the bed.

A yelp escapes my lip as teeth lightly nip at my inner thigh, head snapping back to see Azriel eyeing my hungrily from where he now lays between my legs. “You’re ok love, a little bitting never hurt anybody.” His voice barely above a whisper before he nips at my inner thigh again, this time a moan slipping from my lips as my legs go to clamp around his head before his shadows anchor them to the other bed posts.

Now I was definitely fully at the mercy of Azriel and his shadows. I whimper as he kisses all around where I want him, where I need him, shadows caressing my inner thighs. The mix of the two already having my quivering and pulling at the shadows tying me to the bed.

”P-please Az.” My voice breathy as I plead to him.

”Please what love?” He coos back as his lips ghost over me.

”I need you s-so badly. P-please.” I plead again, my voice full of lust and need.

He looks up at me, smirking in a way that tells me I’m in for a long night. “Where do you need me love? What do you need?”

I almost growl in frustration at him as I pull at the shadows. Bastard. “I need you to touch me, need you inside me. I need you.”

”Of course my love.”

His words the only warning I get before his mouth is on me, his tongue diving between my legs as he kisses me. A moan instantly leaving my lips as he goes down on me. Lips sucking at my clit, tongue lapping over the bundle of nerves, his shadows caressing over my body. I was already a mess, and he’d barely started. Back arching off the bed as much as it could due to his shadows still tying me up, my fingers grasping at what I can of his sheets as I try to anchor myself while Azriel eats me out liked a starved man.

I cry out as his fingers are added to the mix. Azriel who was usually shy about his hands was the complete opposite now as he used them skilfully to bring me closer to my climax. The scars he usually hid bringing an extra element to the mix. And as he curls his fingers inside, I thrash against the restraints, my body desperate to tip over the edge, to grasp onto something to anchor myself as I come undone on Azriel’s mouth.

My attempts to do so had not gone unnoticed by him, his chuckle vibrating through me. “Look at you, so desperate to tip over the edge, so desperate to touch me. Do you want to touch me love?”

”Yes!” I cry out. “Gods yes Azriel.”

”Then be a good girl and cum for me love, and then you can have what you want.”

And as he sucks on my clit, adding another finger that he curls inside, I tumble over the edge. My climax coming and going in waves, a wave that is Azriel. All I can sense is him. His touch as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of me, his lips pressing soft kisses to my stomach, his scent thick in the air with his own arousal, and his feelings pouring into me from the mating bond. My moans echoing around the room as I ride out the wave.

As I come down from my climax, his shadows release my wrists and ankles, my body relaxing into the soft bed as I catch my breath. But a clink of a belt has me rising up on my elbows. At the end of the bed Azriel drops his belt to the floor with a loud thud before unclasping his pants, letting them drop to the floor as he exposes himself to me. My bottom lip dragging through my bottom teeth as I take in the sight before me as he kneels on the bed, hand lazily stroking up and down his length as his shadows billow around him.

”Are you going to touch me love? Or am I going to take care of this myself?”

@idkimjusthere100 @strangeeaglepost @puttyly @kyl13sm1l3y @wildflowermooon @oliviajm21 @honethatty12 @lesehexe

[ivystoryweaver]

Stay With Me Tonight - Marc Spector

"His scent lingered here in his bed, seducing you while taunting you at the same time. You could find endless pleasure here, but it would inevitably end. You would always have to leave."

Summary: Marc is the easiest and most difficult person you’ve ever gotten to know. You’ve never spent an entire night with him. What does he do when you accidentally fall asleep at his place?

Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader who would wear a dress to a big event. Gif does not indicate reader’s race.

Word Count: 5.5k

Content: meet cute at first, reader doesn’t know Marc is a system, newer established situationship, angst, fluff-adjacent at points, domesticity, insecurities, allusions to Marc’s past, talk of DID, Steven is mentioned, very sensual and there is sex but the language remains somewhat vague and gender neutral - more erotic than explicit, allusions to hand stuff, oral and penetration, not beta'd

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You didn’t know much about Marc Spector at first except that he was from Chicago but was back in the States after years abroad. Now he worked security at your ex's family’s company and that’s how you met, unofficially.

It wasn't that you didn't notice him. He wasn't exactly tall, but his shoulders were broad for his frame, even through the slightly-too-large standard issue button up. He stood with his legs shoulder width apart, one hand holding his opposite wrist in front of him.* The black dress pants did nothing to hide the delicious back side of him. A black tie, plain black baseball cap, matching dress shoes and an earpiece completed his polished and unfairly hot ensemble.

Various people in the building occasionally whispered about "Marc the security guard.” He was kind of hard to miss.

Although you passed Marc every day on your way in to work, exchanging nods or general greetings, it wasn't until the office holiday party that you met him officially.

You almost didn’t recognize him out of his security uniform at first. After two beers, surrounded by coworkers telling jokes, his dark eyes were shining, the corners crinkling as he let loose a little.

As you and your work bestie drifted over, it was almost as if you saw him for the first time. His typical uniform mandated black ball cap was obviously absent, giving you a view of his striking dark curls. They looked so soft, you wondered who was lucky enough to sink their fingers into them. What a shame to hide that hair every day.

Then he smiled at you and it struck a chord deep inside.

A chorus of greetings went up between your two groups, with you all exchanging hellos and hugs. Your eyes landed on his and warmth flared from your neck up to your cheeks.

“Hi Marc,” you gave a little wave.

He said your name, softly. Your first name, not the typical title-and-last-name you got at the security checkpoint each morning. His gaze, intense, but open, drifted to your lips, down the smooth column of your neck to apparently study the shape of your body wrapped in a party dress.

Preferring business trousers and work suits, you realized that Marc had never seen you like this before.

“You look really nice,” he finally said, his gaze returning to yours, as neutral as if he hadn’t just ogled you from head to toe.

“Thanks, you too,” you smiled, admiring how he'd traded his standard issue white button up and black tie for a soft navy sweater. “Never seen you out of uniform.”

By the end of the party, you were kissing him in the copy room, body draped half on top of his. His hands roamed freely, feeling the curves outlined by your dress, the bare skin of your thigh. Hand gripping the nape of your neck, he tilted his head for a deeper taste, groaning as your fingers twisted into his curls, just the way you’d imagined an hour ago.

It was anything but quiet, or appropriate for a public work function, but that didn’t stop his hands from slipping between your legs.

Bellowing laughter from passersby prompted him to tear his mouth from yours, his breath hotly ghosting your cheek. “Wanna get out of here?” He murmured against your lips before brushing his mouth over yours once, twice and then kissing you hard.

“Yeah, let’s go to mine,” you offered, getting yourself presentable before ordering a ride share on your phone.

“You’re not drunk are you?” You half teased, bumping shoulders with him as he tucked himself back into place and smoothed out his wild curls. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“It takes a hell of a lot to get me drunk,” he chuckled. “But you can still take advantage of me.” He winked.

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In the back seat of the car, Marc seemed to keep his distance, but you caught him looking at you several times until you finally asked, “What is it?”

“Nothing, I just…I didn’t think you would notice me in a hundred years.”

Sliding across the seat to be close to him, you laid your head on his shoulder, your heart melting. “I noticed.”

Marc took your hand and helped you out of the car, following your lead inside and into the elevator. As the doors closed, he laced his fingers through yours, and crowded close to you until your back hit the wall. Then he covered your mouth with his, reigniting the passion discovered at the office party. Only now you were alone and his restraint was gone.

By the time the elevator doors dinged open, you had to tear your mouth from his to lead him to your apartment door. You barely made it inside before he was on you again.

The thought flitted through the back of your mind that you should offer him a drink, put on some music or something, but you dismissed it, remembering he was here to sleep with you. It’s clearly what he wanted when he stopped things from going too far at the office copy room.

If this was going to be a one time thing, you decided to switch your brain off and enjoy it. This notion was made easier as he spread his palm over your inner thigh and squeezed, fingers climbing higher as he kissed you endlessly.

“Is this okay?” He breathed, stopping himself long enough to make sure the two of you were on the same page.

“Yeah, please,” you panted, gripping his bicep, guiding him closer to where you wanted him. “Touch me.”

And he did, right up against your front door, until your legs shook and gave out.

Then he laid you on the couch, spread you wide and cleaned you up with his tongue. His fingers were tender, tracing the shape of your leg, up and down, but his mouth ravenously devoured you until he pulled sounds from you that you knew were brand new. Deep moans, little whimpering shrieks of ecstasy that made him smile against your tender parts and keep going. And going.

“Can I keep going?” He gasped, reading your thoughts while unbuckling his pants.

You nodded dumbly, so blissed out you could hardly move. “Condoms…in my drawer…by my bed.”

“Hey,” he brushed his fingers over your cheek. “Too much? We can stop.”

“No, it’s good,” you sighed, reaching for him to bring him back closer. “It’s so good, Marc.”

You helped him finish undressing, happy to find he had his own protection with him.

When he pushed his way inside you, stretching you open, you realized you definitely wanted this to be more than a one time thing. Maybe he would stay the night. Maybe you could do this some more, during the night, in the morning. And perhaps you could have breakfast together. Anything to savor this feeling again and again.

After you finished and cleaned up a little, you offered him a drink or some tea or coffee. To your delight, he accepted, and the two of you talked for another two hours at your tiny kitchen table.

You talked about your family and a little about your ex, what movies and books and music you liked.

“Is it weird working for your ex's company?” He asked you.

“Sometimes,” you admitted, “but I moved departments so we didn’t have to interact so much. What about you?”

“What’s it like to work for your ex, you mean?” He teased, but quickly admitted, to your great surprise, that he had been married before.

“She was wonderful, it was completely my fault,” he shocked you by confessing.

And somehow, with this guy you just got to know and slept with, the two of you had the most candid conversation about exes, like ever. He told you that he wasn’t able to be what his ex needed. And the two of you talked long enough that you felt comfortable enough to ask, “Do you still love her?”

Scrubbing a hand over his chin, he nodded thoughtfully. “Not in the way you think. Not in a way that would lead to anything. She’s a good person and I’ll always love her, but I’m not in love with her.”

A comfortable silence fell over you both as you quietly sipped your drinks. "Is this a weird 'first night together' conversation?" You asked.

"I don't know, do you feel weird? Because I don't."

"No, actually," you admitted, hands wrapped around your mug. Everything about this moment felt comfortable. Right.

"Good." His eyebrows shot up in a cute and strangely sexy way. Polishing off his second cup of coffee, he stood, carrying his cup to your sink. "I better get going, it's late."

Well, that answered the question as to whether he would stay overnight, and for breakfast.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

That was the first of many nights with Marc. Many steamy, satisfying, sleepless nights, filled with late nights talking and the best sex of your life.

He was easy to talk to, in a way. In other ways, he was a fortress. There were times, while talking, in each other's arms, that his eyes, warm and alive, would go suddenly cold. His lips would pull into a thin line. With one shake of his head, a conversation would come to an abrupt end.

You tried not to take it personally. After all, you were still getting to know one another. Maybe he didn't want to talk about his childhood, or his family. He'd mentioned his dad only once.

Sometimes he didn't seem quite himself. He was more pensive, and spoke under his breath in Spanish. But you really liked him and were determined to give it some time.

One thing that was starting to bug you was how he never stayed the night. And on rare occasions when you ended up at his place, he would always order you a ride share or make sure you got safely home before you ever got sleepy.

Until tonight.

After cuddling on the couch and watching a movie, you slumped over on Marc's lap and fell asleep. You dreamed of waking up in bed, in his arms, sunlight streaming over his smooth, dark skin and chocolate curls. He pulled you close, smiling against your lips and kissed you sweetly. You smelled coffee brewing and breakfast cooking.

That’s how you knew it was a dream, and what brought you back to consciousness. Nothing like that had ever happened between you, not in the few months you'd been together.

When you woke up, you were facing Marc’s tummy. The TV was still on and Marc seemed to be watching it, his fingers gently raking up and down your arm.

You mumbled against his stomach, nuzzling its softness, feeling so content until you heard him groan.

“Marc?” You rasped, turning your eyes up to meet his.

The corner of his mouth curled gently as he reached to caress your cheek. “Hey.”

Climbing up to a sitting position, you smoothed your clothes. “I fell asleep, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head, holding onto your arms to steady you. “Come here.” He used his hold on you to pull you across his lap.

Gratefully melting into his embrace, you wrapped your arms around his neck, touching your forehead to his. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I promise.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Easing back, his gaze locked with yours, eyes darkening as he shifted underneath you. He swallowed hard, trying to figure out what to do next.

“I know, it’s just…you don’t like me to stay overnight. I wasn’t trying to step over your boundaries or anything, I promise - "

Marc silenced your ramblings with a soft kiss. “It’s okay,” he breathed against your lips.

He'd watched you sleeping for forever, mind racing with thoughts of how peaceful you seemed, his contentment and longing mingling over how you could feel safe with him. Yet he couldn't help but worry, keeping vigil over his own exhaustion, in case he were to doze. That was a mistake he couldn't afford to make. Not at this point in your relationship.

Still, as you dreamed, your soft sighs taunted him, warm breath seeping through the thin cotton of his t-shirt as you rubbed your cheek against the top of his thigh. At least his desire would keep him awake.

You buried your face in his neck, relief washing over you that he wasn't upset that you fell asleep.

"It's all right," he whispered, nuzzling the spot behind your ear. “I’ll make sure you get home okay.”

And there it was - the dagger in your heart. You tried so hard to respect Marc’s line in the sand. You shared so much together - dates, long talks, passion-filled nights, TV binging. You even understood that it might be too soon for him to open up to you fully, about his past, or whatever else he tended to clam up about.

If you truly cared about him, you should be understanding, that’s what you kept telling yourself over and over, but it was really starting to hurt that he wanted to usher you out into the night at 2 A.M. Simultaneously, you felt it was wrong of you to hold it against him. And that war in your mind and heart was beginning to bubble up to the surface.

You hid your tears behind a big, fake yawn, making a show of stretching your arms and rubbing your eyes before climbing off the couch.

Marc stood, following you closely, noticing the sudden glistening redness in your typically serene eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged him off gently. “Just tired. Where’s my phone? I’ll get a car.”

Slowly, he gathered your phone off the coffee table and handed it over. His lips parted, dark eyebrows shifting in what appeared to be concern, but ultimately, he said nothing. His mouth drew into a firm line as a worried wrinkle appeared between his eyes.

“I…I can get you a ride,” he finally uttered, witnessing you furiously swipe through a rideshare app.

“It’s fine, almost done,” you choked out, trying so hard not to cry and hating yourself for what your brain was doing to you right now.

“I’ll go with you,” he softly offered, “and get a ride back. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You finished up with your phone and stashed it in your back pocket. “I'll be okay. You should stay here and get to sleep or…whatever it is you do all night.” You winced as soon as the words left your mouth. Too clingy. Wayyyy too clingy. Or accusing, maybe?

“I’m sorry,” you offered before Marc could ever come up with anything to say. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I’m just tired. I…I gotta use the restroom.” You fled the living room and barely made it inside the bathroom in time for tears to flood your eyes. You had to get a handle on this. You felt ridiculous.

Obviously, this topic warranted a conversation, but later, when the two of you were rested and on an even playing field, so to speak.

Swiping repeatedly at your eyes, you finally used the restroom and washed up, trying to hide their redness and the tear tracks on your cheeks. Marc would see right through it though.

Just then, he knocked on the bathroom door. “Sweetheart…you all right? Your phone got a notification. I think your ride might be here.”

“Okay, coming,” you mumbled, trying one more time to splash the tears from your face and eyes. It wasn’t working. Oh well.

Yanking open the door, you attempted to dart past your boyfriend, but he clearly saw you were upset.

He wanted to go to you, to hold you, to beg you to stay, but he couldn’t. It was better for both of you that you leave mad. Because he couldn’t explain. You couldn’t stay because he was getting sleepy. It took everything in his power to stay awake while you slept comfortably across his lap. Nothing had ever felt so right in his life. The whole time he listened to your soft breath, felt you so safe and trusting in his arms, all he wanted was to lie down beside you and give into his exhaustion. Either that or kiss you awake and bury himself inside you.

He could do one but not the other. Because when he woke up, he would probably be gone. He wouldn’t be himself and he couldn’t do that to you. Not until he figured out some way to tell you what was wrong with him. That he wasn't like everyone else.

Marc cursed himself as you tucked yourself into the car and were driven off into the night.

He should have stopped you. He should have done something.

But this bought him time. Time to figure out how to somehow let you in, or let you go.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The next day, when you passed through security at work, you tried to act normal, smiling at your boyfriend and wishing him good morning. He seemed surprised, but relieved to see your smile. You couldn’t stay mad at him, especially not when he didn’t know why. And especially not with how handsome he looked in his uniform. If only you had five minutes to drag him to your office by his tie. 

‘You look amazing today.’ He texted you once you made it up to your office.

‘Don’t lie to me, Spector. I am running on maybe 3 hours of sleep. But you are sweet to say so xoxo’

‘You slept almost 2 hours on my lap, so that’s 5 hours. That must be why you look so good.’

‘Shit, I slept for 2 hours? I’m really sorry. Embarrassing.’

‘You don’t have to be sorry. I told you that.’

You weren’t sure what to say to that. But he texted back before you could decide what to say.

‘Do you still want to come over tonight?’

You did. You really did, but it was going to hurt again when he took you to heaven, finished inside you and then ushered you out the door. Why couldn’t you just accept where he was with all this?

You had to talk to him. It wasn’t fair to be upset and keep it from him.

‘I always want to see you,’ you typed back. ‘I’ll leave earlier so I won’t fall asleep again.’

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Dinner was delicious and Marc was in a flirty mood. You barely finished dessert before he was all over you, not that you were complaining. The thought flitted across the back of your mind that you should talk to him, but you forgot to care once he kissed a trail down your body and used his lips and tongue to send you to heaven.

The two of you spent the evening in the dark, tangled in his sheets. His scent lingered here in his bed, seducing you while taunting you at the same time. You could find endless pleasure here, but it would always end. You would always have to leave.

He made you come so many times that you forgot to care for a long while, so blissed out that you accidentally drifted into exhausted slumber. Naked, in his arms, in his bed.

This time, when you woke in the night, you wanted to close your eyes and pretend to still be asleep so badly, wishing to remain in this moment a little longer before you either had to get a ride home or have an uncomfortable conversation about how it was starting to hurt your feelings.

Maybe Marc was asleep. Maybe you could pretend a while longer.

"You awake?" His voice rumbled deeply in his chest.

"Yeah...sorry. You wore me out. Didn't mean to fall asleep though."

"It's okay."

Untangling yourself from his arms, you sat up on the edge of the bed, determined to keep your composure. "I'll get a ride home."

Marc sat up right along with you, pressing his bare chest to your back and laying a soft kiss on your neck. "You can stay, baby. It's almost 3:00."

Relief washed over you like a powerful wave, nearly knocking you over. And it might have, if Marc's body wasn't pressed up against you so firmly.

"Are you sure?" You whispered, holding your breath, awaiting his answer.

"Yeah," he murmured, kissing your cheek. Wrapping his arms around you, he coaxed you back down to bed, pulling you half on top of his chest. "I don't want to let go of you."

Heart racing, you chanced the big question. "I don't want that either. I want to stay right here with you. But…”

“What?”

“But you don't like to spend the night together...right?"

He stiffened, letting out a long sigh. "I do want to. Believe me. But...see, the thing is...I…I actually have another job."

After a few silent moments of shock, you actually laughed. "Another job? In the middle of the night? Doing what?"

"Well, I...I watch over people."

"So like, after hours security work?"

"Basically yeah."

"Oh my god, why didn't you just say so?" Now wide awake, you propped up on your elbow so you could look down into his moonlit eyes. "I was starting to think I was your dirty secret or something."

"What?" He chuckled, which made your heart lighten and stop thundering. "You're my dirty something, but I don't think our relationship is a secret. Everyone at work knows, right?"

You nodded, smiling to yourself. Marc could be so literal. After agreeing with him, you apologized.

"What are you sorry for?" He softly asked, tracing circles on your lower back.

"For not talking to you sooner, about spending the night. I guess I didn't realize it was bothering me so much until I fell asleep here."

“Baby,” he whispered, pulling you against the solid warmth of his body. Although he was the one comforting you, he seemed to slightly tremble under your touch, his heart thundering in his chest so hard you could feel it. “I-I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

“No, Marc, you didn’t do anything wrong. I know you don’t want me to stay - "

“I want you to stay,” he said firmly. "I just have to leave early. Probably while you're still asleep."

"Are you sure?" You asked him. "I don't want to do anything you're not ready for."

"I'm not ready to lose you, or even upset you," he told you with conviction.

His confession seemed to appease you for now. And he did have a second job, in a sense. No one paid him to do it, but he did watch over people. His daytime security job paid the bills. He would usually have come home and sleep as long as he could until he went out on patrol to watch over the travelers of the night, or he had a date with you.

Mercifully, the ancient god he served left him alone some nights, so he was able to get a little more sleep after he left your place, or you left his. But sometimes he patrolled right up until he had to come back home and get ready for his day job.

As he held you close, soothing you back to sleep, Marc tried to decide how much he wanted to tell you. What would you think if you found out he was Moon Knight?

That would be hard enough to tell you, but he had to keep this sleep thing under control. There was no telling what could happen if you woke up to...not him. And it would happen soon. He was losing control, feeling so exhausted, fronting all the time. You would find out one way or another.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc knew this would happen.

The night you spent together more than appeased you, but it created a problem. Or perhaps an opportunity. Once you spent the night together, Marc knew you would want to do it again. He wanted it too, honestly. The feel of you in his arms - your warm breath against his throat - he wanted more. He wanted to let you in.

But he’d never done anything like this before. Very few people knew he was Moon Knight and fewer still knew he was…the way he was. His secrets ruined his marriage, and had kept him single in the years since. He’d let this thing with you go on too long to consider it a fling. He wanted to be with you. Sometimes you were all he could think about.

He didn’t want to lose you.

He simply had no idea how to keep you.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

In a way, you felt closer to Marc than ever before, but there was something distant in his eyes. You worried that maybe you were pushing things too far now that you were spending the night together, or maybe he simply wasn’t getting enough sleep.

So you asked him over for dinner to talk about it. And even if he got handsy, you were determined to really talk and sort some things out. You loved him, he was worth it.

After dinner, you cozied up on your couch, listening to music, when you finally admitted you were worried about him.

“Why are you worried?” He asked you, slightly fearing the answer. What had you figured out?

“I care about you, so much,” you told him with a tender smile. “You know that, right?”

“I care about you too,” he softly returned.

‘You’ve been a little different lately,” you carefully stated, covering his hand with yours. “I’m hoping you’re getting enough sleep, with your two jobs.”

You weren’t wrong. He was definitely burning the candle at both ends. He could feel his grip on everything slipping. Had Steven met you at some point he didn't remember?

“So, I know I should have talked to you first, but…I asked for you to get a raise.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you winced, waiting for his reaction.

Marc blinked at you so openly, so sweetly, you hoped your plan would work. “You got me a raise?”

“Yeah."

He shook his head in wonder. "You talked to your ex about giving me a raise?"

"Yes," you nervously laughed. "So, you know, just in case you can quit your second job. But only if you want to. I mean, maybe you like it, I don’t know. I just…wanted to help, if I could.” You gestured animatedly with your hands as you explained.

“Thank you. No one’s ever…no one’s done anything like that for me before.”

“Oh good, you’re not mad,” you laughed out, touching his cheek.

“No, I'm not mad.” Blowing air out of his lips, he nodded, as if trying to convince himself of something. “But I have to tell you something too. A few things actually.”

“Okay,” you whispered, rubbing your hand up on and down his forearm soothingly.

“I…I don’t want to lose you,” he carefully admitted, clearing his throat. “But if I tell you this…it will probably change the way you feel about me.”

You swallowed, wondering if this was it. What he’d been keeping from you about his past or maybe a secret family or something. There had to be a catch. He was almost too perfect.

He stared at you, lip trembling as a hint moisture gathered in his warm brown eyes. “I-I’ve never done this before, I don’t really know how…”

“I’m here,” you assured him, holding his hand. “It’s okay, take your time.”

He nodded again, gaze dropping to his lap. “I’m not who you think. I mean, I am, but…I’m not alone.”

“Not alone?” You questioned, swallowing thickly. “You mean, like…you’re married or - "

“No,” he quickly assured you, placing his palm over his chest. “I mean in here. I’m not just me in here. I’m…I…sometimes I’m not here. I’m not me. Sometimes, Steven is here. Instead of me.” He exhaled loudly, shoulders slumping as if he’d just run up three flights of stairs.

Stroking his hand gently, you tried to understand. “Steven? Who is Steven?”

“He’s part of me. In here.” Marc’s eyes found yours. “He’s been with me since I was a kid. And sometimes, after I fall asleep, it's Steven who wakes up and not me.”

It sounded like Marc was trying to tell you about another part of himself, like another personality. Your mind turned over the thought, realizing that “personality” sounded wrong. Like…an outdated term. What was the thing that used to be called…multiple personalities? You’d seen it on TV and movies a dozen times at least. But now it was called something else.

“Marc, are you - I’m not trying to offend you, I promise. But are you talking about, um, it's like - dissociative identity disorder? Like, it used to be called multiple personalities? Is that what you’re saying about Steven?”

“Yes,” he looked so relieved to be finally making sense. “Yeah, like that, I guess. I don’t know for sure. I haven’t been to the doctor in a long time.”

His eyes went round and his bottom lip formed an almost precious pout. "I'm not ready to talk about all that. I don't want to talk about...the doctors." His head dropped and he started to turn away from you. "Please don't ask me."

You gave him a moment, not really knowing what to say. But you could tell for certain that he was trying. He was giving you a part of himself to know. To accept.

"I don't know what to say," you softly admitted your thought, giving him some space, "except that what you're telling me definitely doesn't change the way I feel about you."

Your admission brought his eyes back to yours. One tear dropped onto his cheek as he sucked in a breath. "It doesn't?"

"No, I mean, I have like a ton of questions, but just because you open up to me doesn't mean I'm going to change my mind about how I feel, Marc. I love..." Pressing your lips together, you averted your eyes, mentally scolding yourself.

Too fast, too fast...

"S-sorry," you offered meekly. "I just mean that..." You chewed on your lip helplessly.

"Don't say it yet," Marc interjected, but his voice was tender and his eyes soft and filled with something real and accepting. "Not til you know who I am. Maybe...you know, maybe after you meet Steven, or...there's just so much more I have to say - "

You silenced him with an urgent kiss, gently grasping his face in your hands. "We have time," you whispered, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes. "I can wait, if you aren't ready."

He nodded quickly, letting out a sigh of relief, eyes shining with adoration. "I'm ready, for some of it, anyway. You can ask me questions if you want. Just...not about the doctors. Not that. But about Steven or, just anything."

"Okay," you agreed, pulling one leg underneath you and getting more comfortable. "Does Steven know who I am?"

"He knows I'm with someone, yeah."

"Have I met him?"

Marc shrugged. "I don't think so. But you would know better than me. Have I talked in a British accent, or rambled about ancient Egypt? Or dressed really different?"

"Oh my god," you gasped, "are those Steven's shirts in the back of the closet? The ones with all the prints?"

"Those would be the ones," Marc laughed, his countenance brightening. "Wait, when were you in my closet?"

"You told me to get a hoodie when I was cold last week."

The two of you shared a laugh, hands reaching for each other, relief flowing between you.

"Is this why you didn't want to stay with me all night? In case you fell asleep and Steven woke up with me? Oh shit, would I scare him?"

"I doubt it," Marc chuckled. “He would love to meet you, I bet.”

"Wait...do you really have a second job? Or was that just the story you were running with until you were ready to tell me this?" Your eyes narrowed curiously.

Marc cleared his throat. "Yeah, about that..."

END

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

*Thank you to @missdictatorme for this line specifically and thank you to Dolli and other moots for listening to me

marc masterlist • moon knight masterlist • main masterlist

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[auroralwriting]

clean 2

tfatws! bucky barnes x stark! reader

bucky and you finally start your life together, washing each other clean of your pasts

word count: 2k | warnings: coupleish fluff with a hint of angst, part one

"Bucky, you have to admit, the navy sofa looks so much better than the green one."

The two sofas were displayed on two sets of phones, seemingly calling to be chosen. It was a tough pick, but ultimately, Bucky knew whatever color you wanted was going to be the one you'd get.

It had been a whole month since your first kisses, since the harsh end of Karli, and the new beginning to much happier lives. So far, the only people to know about Bucky and your relationship was Pepper and Morgan, both extremely accepting of the news. You both decided to wait on telling sam until your apartment was perfectly ready for visitors. That, of course, came with the much needed decoration of the place.

"C'mon, doll. Our sofa now is already so nice." Bucky argued.

Your face was dumbfounded, "Buck, that sofa was the previous owners. Imagine how gross it is, we have to get a new one. Plus, you can't say no to the one who's buying."

Bucky gave a defeated sigh, "I'm pretty sure this money isn't what Tony intended it to be for."

"Well, technically it's all my money since I own the company." You debated with a shrug. "And it's what I intend to use it for, that's all that matters."

So, with a few clicks, the couch was bought.

The apartment was filled with decorations now. It felt so much homier and more comfortable. Now, with you by his side, Bucky finally felt comfortable sleeping in a bed once again. Of course, it was one you had picked out, but Bucky didn't mind; you had wonderful taste.

The vibration of your phone buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out to look at the screen, you smiled and showed it to Bucky.

"Hello?" You said as you pressed the accept button.

"Hi Auntie Iron!" Morgan's sweet voice came through the phone, out on speaker for you and Bucky to hear. You could see his eyes melt at her words.

"Hi there, Miss Morgan!" You cheered back. "How's my favorite niece in the whole wide galaxy?"

Morgan giggled, "I'm you're only niece!"

"Exactly!" You laughed. "How's Momma? Is she the one who called?"

"No, I'm mad at her." Morgan pouted, causing you to give a cheeky look to Bucky. "She won't let me have more juice pops."

You feigned a gasp, "No she didn't,"

"Tell her I can have all the juice pops ever!" Morgan cried out in exasperation.

"Well, Morgie, Momma said I have to be a better influence on you," You paused, handing the phone to Bucky, "But she never said your favorite Uncle had to be."

Morgan let out a huge gasp, "Uncle Bucky?" She yelled excitedly.

"Hi Morgan," Bucky smiled as he spoke. Bucky was nervous to meet Morgan, and officially meet Pepper, too. After about three and a half minutes, Morgan had Bucky wrapped around her little finger as she dangled from his metal arm. It took Pepper only seven minutes to accept Bucky with welcoming arms, with a slight amount of hesitancy, of course. But seeing Morgan so obsessed with him, it was hard to not crack. Now, you'd have to say Pepper liked Bucky more than you, and you were her in-law. "I hear your Mom won't let you have any more juice pops."

"It's not fair!" Morgan cried, "I only had one. Tell her you said it's okay, Uncle Buck!"

Bucky chuckled, "But did you have a cheeseburger today?"

Morgan went silent, "... No."

"Well that's probably why then," Bucky laughed. "How about this, you promise your Mom you'll eat all your vegetables at dinner and then you can have a juice pop before bed."

Through the phone, it was clear Morgan was gagging. "I hate carrots!"

"Then you probably won't get a juice pop. I'm doin' you a favor, Morg." Bucky said. "Your Mom's stubborn, this is the best deal I can get you."

A large sigh came through, "Fine," Morgan sighed, "But I want a purple one!"

"Then a purple one it is," Bucky grinned as Morgan cheered.

After a few minutes of talking to Pepper after Morgan finally handed the phone over, you laid your head on Bucky's lap as his hand found your hair. "They love you," You smiled.

"I love them," Bucky replied. A small silence ensued right after, and by looking at Bucky's face, his brows all creased and lips pressed together, you knew he was in deep thought.

"What?" You questioned softly, looking up and softly caressing his cheek. "Are you thinking about Steve?"

Bucky took sight of your face and knew there was no use lying. "You always know exactly what I'm thinking about." He mused, watching as you tilted your head slightly. "I'm just thinking about how.. happy he would've been for us."

"You think?" You acknowledged.

"Yeah," Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "He would've been over the moon for us." Bucky sat you up, sitting you down on his lap as his arms enclosed around your waist. "He woulda seen how happy you make me, how loved I feel. He would've had no choice but to love us."

With a small laugh, you put your hands on Bucky's cheeks, "He might've cried if you put it to him like that," You remarked as Bucky smiled softly. "You two are just big ol' softies,"

"Only for you, doll." Bucky's thumbs rubbed soft circles over your clothes in the softest touch he could give.

"What else are you thinking about?" You continued, "There's never just one thought in that mind of yours."

Bucky clicked his tongue, "Are you sure you aren't a mind reader? Maybe that suit is ingrained in your brain or something." You both laughed. Bucky continued, "I'm thinking about if Tony would've been happy for us."

"I think he would've," You answered as Bucky raised a brow. "Buck, I've literally never had a boyfriend longer than maybe two weeks. If anything, Tony would be thrilled I'm not dying alone in the near future." Bucky gave a small lopsided smile as you continued. "But I truly, from the bottom of my heart, believe he would've been so happy I found someone who loves me so much."

"He still would've punched me," Bucky shrugged.

You nodded with a hesitant grin, "Probably, but then he would've loved us."

Quickly, Bucky spoke, his words in a rush. "I wanna tell Sam about us."

Previously, you'd both talked about how you wanted to keep this private. However, it was becoming increasingly harder with the press following "CEO Stark" around everywhere, and how Sam wouldn't stop nagging Bucky about why he's been so off the radar in the last month.

"Are you sure it's time?" You asked softly. "We can still wait if you need time,"

Bucky's heart swelled at your gentle words. You always knew what to say to remind him he's his own person, allowed to make his own opinions, have his own thoughts and feelings. "Yeah, doll. I'm sure I'm ready."

"Okay," You nodded, a small smile creeping on your face. "When do we wanna tell him?"

"How about I invite him over to see the newly decorated place, and then we tell him together, in person." Bucky offered. He was always so good at making the best plans.

You nodded quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him in for a kiss. "That sounds wonderful," You agreed as you pulled apart.

"Man, this place looks great!" You heard Sam remark as he walked into your living room. Right now, you were waiting in Bucky and your bedroom for the right time to come out. "Did you hire some interior designer to do this? No way your taste picked out this shit."

Bucky laughed, "No, but I'll give your compliments to the chef,"

You could hear them walking around, "I'm proud of you, Bucky, really. You're doing great for yourself."

"I've had a lot of help along the way," Bucky replied. You didn't hear any footsteps anymore, so you assumed they were sitting down.

"Damn, this is a nice couch." Sam commented. You gave yourself a metaphorical pat on the back, you knew the navy one would be the best. "It's soft, this is nice. I could sleep here." After a beat, Sam asked, "So, what have you been up to?"

"I could ask you the same, Cap," Bucky teased.

Sam laughed, "Not too much, just a lot of press, then going back home to be with the family."

You could tell Bucky was probably nodding along, humming in reply like he always did. "Look, man. I have something I've been wanting to tell you." This was it.

"Oh God, who did you piss off this time?" Sam sighed as Bucky chuckled.

"It's not that bad," Slowly, you opened the bedroom door as quietly as you could and hid behind the wall, right around the corner to the living room. "There's something I- we've, been meaning to tell you,"

Before Sam could reply, you turned the corner and gave a small wave, leaning up on the fronts of your feet nervously. "Hi, Sam."

The look on Sam's face was so priceless you wished you would've taken a photo. For a moment, he just gaped at you, looking back and forth between Bucky and you. Then, the biggest smile known to man pushed its way through as he stood up, tightly hugging Bucky and giving him a clap on the back. "Man, I knew something was up with you!" Sam made his way over to you and gave you a tight hug. "And I knew Bucky wasn't the one to make this place look as nice as it does." The three of you laughed as you sat down next to Bucky, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"Any questions?" You asked as Sam sat down next to you. His eyes glimmered as he beamed.

"So many," Sam replied quickly. "One, who started this? Two, how long? Three, who else knows? Four-"

Bucky held out a hand, "Let's just start with three for now. Technically me, I kissed her first."

"And its been about a month now," You continued. "The only other people who know are Pepper and Morgan."

Sam raised a brow, "What was the jury's vote?"

"Jury voted in favor," You responded. "Bucky's already Morg's favorite uncle."

Bucky's face turned pink in embarrassment as Sam laughed, "Wow, Uncle Buck. I didn't know you were such a child magnet. All the kids you meet love you."

"What can I say, I'm just a people person." Bucky joked.

"It's just the metal arm," You joked as Bucky squeezed your side causing you to sequel lightly, pushing yourself into his side as he chuckled. "Soon we're hopefully gonna get a cat, too."

Bucky sighed, "Doll, I've already told you, we cannot get a cat."

"You'll love a cat!" You cried, "Plus, you're an animal person, you can't lie about that."

Sam chimed in, "Its true. When he met Kate Bishop's dog, he couldn't leave that thing alone for more than two minutes."

"It was the dog who couldn't leave me alone," Bucky scoffed.

The three of you continued to laugh and talk all night. Sam eventually convinced you both to come down to Sarah's again to spend some more time there. Of course, you quickly agreed. Now that your best friend and close family knew, it felt like all was becoming normal for once in your lives. Now was the time you began to shed yourselves free of your past and make a happier future together. Finally, you were both clean.

[thinkingotherwise]

Hello! Just a girly obsessed with Umemiya, requesting a scenario where he thinks reader and him are dating but he didn’t officially ask. A little bit of panic happens before he realizes his mistake 😆🥹🩵 (any levels of spicy 😆) 🙏🏼

Cute, it's like dating but not really.

Hajime is a little chaotic in this and acts before thinking.

Hajime Umemiya x reader

A little spoiler to Hajime's backstory, not much he just wants to introduce you to his family.

- Umemiya's touch was more frequent, you noticed recently. It was surprising but you didn't mind it at all. - It brought you a sense of relief even if you felt warm whenever it happened. - Of course, your mind searched for the source of what exactly brought this new wave of touchiness. - You remembered it all started during the latest BBQ party that the Bofurin Leader organized and you helped, as usual. - Yet you couldn't recall the specific moment that could bring it, that could deepen your relationship with him. - So you went with it. The fact that you had a crush on him might have been an additional reason.

- But then he asked you to visit his old orphanage together and oh dear, if you knew what it would entail. - You agreed, why wouldn't you when he smiled at you like that with eyes full of excitement? - You walked with him up to the front doors voicing how nervous you were to meet such important people in his life. - "Don't worry, I'm sure they'd love you, I know I do." - He said and that made your mind blank. Did you hear him correctly just now? - Noticing your absentminded stare he thought you were really anxious, so he stepped closer placing his hand on your cheek before connecting your lips together. - Okay, now saying you were confused would be an understatement. - Your brain shut off as you let his lips move against yours. You felt your blood pumping rapidly as warmth spread all over your body. - Then he pulled away sending you his pretty smile and your eyes moved frantically over his features. Your mouth opened as you breathed heavily trying to calm yourself. - "What was-" - You were cut off as Hajime brushed your cheek before letting his hand fall to grip yours. - "You're gonna do well. Don't worry." - His voice was calm and comforting, complete opposite to how you were feeling right now. - Everything happened way too fast for you to catch up. First, he saying he loved you, kissing you, and now the front door opened showing some kids as they cheered seeing Hajime. - An older man appeared behind the group and you felt as if you were about to get a heart attack when Hajime's next words left his mouth. - "Hello guys, as promised, I brought my partner with me. That's (Y/n), be nice to them." - This man, he really wanted to put you in hospital with his unpredictable behavior. - "Ex-excuse me?" - You questioned your hand tightening around Hajime as he still held it. - The older man brought the kids back inside and motioned for you two to join them. Yet you didn't move. - Your hand pulled on Bofurin leader's as you finally collected some confidence to question him. - "Hajime, what is this all about? We're not dating, are we?" - You asked with wide eyes questioning even yourself, if maybe you forgot about something. Did you have some short-term memory loss? - His head tilted to the side as his eyes looked at you disoriented. - "We are, aren't we?" - He questioned back. - And now both of you stood, in front of his orphanage with doors open wide, frozen in place instead of entering. - "Since when?" - You tried to remember when it did happen, was it why he was more touchy with you recently because he thought you were going out? - "Umm.. since the BBQ." - He replied his voice losing its volume, but as he stood close to you, you heard him perfectly well. - "I confessed to you and you reciprocated my feelings." - He added and you went back the memory lane to the day.

- In your mind, it seemed like a normal conversation, well slightly normal as you certainly remembered him saying he liked you in front of everyone, but he did so with others as well and you thought he meant it in a friendly way, so you replied that you liked him too. - You described the memory to him and watched as his mouth opened wide and his ears colored red. - He covered his mouth with his hand and turned away from you as he gasped when reality crashed into him. - Why? Well, he remembered the moment a little differently. - He was looking at you, enchanted by your smile, so much so that he didn't realize that instead of saying things out loud he was thinking them inside his head. In his mind, he confessed all of feelings to you before finally voicing out a short 'I like you'. Which honestly, was supposed to sum up all of his confession but how could it make sense for you when you couldn't read his mind? - So when he heard you saying you also like him, he immediately thought you also shared the same deep feelings he did and that meant you were together.

- The realization appeared in his eyes as he slowly turned to you, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked so apologetic. - "I'm so sorry. Oh my God.. I really apologize I-" - His voice cut as he recalled the last minutes and what he did as well as his previous actions that must have made you uncomfortable, in his opinion. - His knees bent as he kneeled in front of you head bowed down. - You gasped in surprise and embarrassment as he apologized to you. - Your hand moved to grab his biceps as you tried to pick him up from the ground, your eyes darting behind him to the open doors trying to see if someone was watching. But when you found no one you pulled on his arm and he finally stood up. - "I really am sorry, I'll tell everyone at the orphanage that you're my friend and explain it." - He rambled on and you covered his mouth to make him listen to you. - "Umm I really was surprised and confused when you did all that." - You waved your hand as you started talking. Flustered like never but also a little amused at the fact that he confessed to you in his head. - "But I really didn't mind when you became closer. I mean, I do like you, like as more than just a friend but it would be nice to know we were actually dating." - A small smile appeared on your face and Hajime slowly became more relieved seeing that you didn't mind his actions as much as he thought you would. - "So if you still want to, we can make it a reality and this time confess out loud." - His head moved rapidly nodding at your words as he grabbed your hand and pulled it away from his mouth. - "Yes, sure. Of course, I really liked the thought of dating you and the last days when I thought we did." - He replied excitedly before pulling you into a hug which you reciprocated. - That was until the old man that was leading the orphanage appeared at the doors again asking if you were going to join them or would you just stand outside. - You smiled at him, more confident, now that you cleared things up with Hajime, before walking into the building with your new boyfriend following after you.

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE WAIT FOR THE FIRST RACE

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. the waiting time between pre-season testing and first race is being filled

content warnings. the girls (men) are fighting and y/n gets a reality check

notes. another chat chapter because you guys liked it lol

george russell Welcome, @/oliverbearman and @/ynstark to the main Grid Chat. I will add you to the other ones as well.

daniel ricciardo WELCOME!!! We're so happy to finally have you here

Also, @/kevinmagnussen, welcome back you ass

Don't leave any groupchats again, it's a pain to add you back

george russell Considering I have to do the work, you're not allowed to complain Daniel

lando norris booo, let him have the fun

nico hülkenberg Oh no, it starts again. I'll mute you asshats if you don't stop this

lando norris you're just boring

oliver bearman thank you guys! very happy and honored to be finally part of the big guys 🫣

y/n stark thank you, george! and i'm excited to officially meet you all, until then, hello :)

charles leclerc Hello y/n, welcome to the grid! I hope you'll enjoy your stay here 😉

y/n stark thank you charles, i'm sure i will lol

kevin magnussen I swear I will block you all

daniel ricciardo Don't be like that, you love us

y/n stark lol, he actually hates you guys, won't stop whining kevin magnussen One day, young lady, one day... y/n stark y'all hear sum? charles leclerc Gagged. lando norris charles???

carlos sainz Can you guys just shut up for once, dios mio.

charles leclerc Aww, Carlos, you love us! carlos sainz Debatable. Sometimes I wish you would all crash and not survive to be honest oscar piastri We get it, you're an asshole carlos sainz Fuck off Piastri oscar piastri Right back at you Sainz

lewishamilton welcome to our new rookies! ollie, awesome to see you again, y/n, don't be a stranger, we haven't talked in ages!

y/n stark lew!! we defo have to, gonna hit you up for fashion show for sure, pepper has been planning something pierre gasly Lew 👀 y/n stark look who's here... the tripod.... pierre gasly Yeah yeah, shutting up. Welcome to the grid y/n y/n stark thank you pierre

sergio perez Welcome, rookies.

max verstappen From me a welcome as well!

esteban ocon Welcome, welcome!! This is so exciting, I've been waiting for a long time now 😋😋

lance stroll Estie??? esteban ocon Shht, Lancey, let me cook lance stroll 💀💀💀

lance stroll Anyways, all of them are idiots, as we already know, welcome to hell, y/n

y/n stark aww, thank you lance. so sorry you have to go throught this 🫂 charles leclerc We're not so bad?? lewis hamilton Well. charles leclerc Oh come on Lewis lewis hamilton I didn't say anything

fernando alonso Stark and Bearman! Welcome to the coolest people on the paddock 😎

oliver bearman thanks fernando! y/n stark thanks nando 😎

alexander albon Hi guys, so nice to see you finally in here! @/georgerussell you took your sweet time man

george russell You be Head of the GPDA then. alexander albon No thank you, I'm fine 🙃

logan sargeant Welcome, welcome, happy to see some new faces!

oscar piastri They're finally here. Welcome back Ollie and welcome Y/n to this shit hole

lando norris you know what osc? oscar piastri No, and I don't care. Save the talking for the track lando norris you do know i'm still zak's favorite driver? i could get you fired oscar piastri Please don't. charles leclerc This is what you get for lying in an interview. No groupchat with all of us is ever formal oscar piastri This literally isn't about you Charles charles leclerc Boo, you hater

y/n stark @/kevinmagnussen i see what you've said now...

kevin magnussen Never ever doubt me again, I've been with those fuckers for years now daniel ricciardo Hey!! That's not nice yuki tsunoda you know what else is not nice ricciardo? daniel ricciardo Yuki, drop it. Team orders are team orders yuki tsunoda i don't give a fuck old man, you behave like a bitch you get bitch behavior max verstappen Drop it or else I'll involve Helmut. yuki tsunoda fuck you dan-cocksucker max verstappen Yuki. We don't carry out team issues to the grid. yuki tsunoda he started first and i have proof daniel ricciardo I don't know why you're being so dramatic, it was only testing yuki tsunoda i give you dramatic you fucking asshole. you know what you did and i stand by my statement that this was a total asshole move. just because you got a big smile doesn't mean you're fooling everyone fucking ass george russell I will both kick you out if you don't drop this immediately.

carlos sainz And it starts again...

valterri bottas You're all children. Stop it

y/n stark so pierre was right huh 😀

kevin magnussen I told you so. pierre gasly Why am I getting involved in shit again?

zhou ganyu I apologize for their behavior. Y/n, Oliver, welcome to the grid, I'll be excited to race you both!

kev

are they actually children because wtf did i just witness.

Yeah... I told you drivers are dramatic. Well, most of them and other's are just their victims. Of course we have our moments and friendships but it's a ruthless sport

man tf. literal man children. i'm so glad i have you as a teammate kev. like seriously. i don't know if i could survive with someone like daniel or carlos

the passive agressive vibes <<<<

that's just not it tbh

I have no idea what you just said but I agree. Daniel and Yuki are not good teammates, it was already bad last year and now this.

To be honest, Nico and I often missed stuff like that since we were stuck at Haas and the upper dogs never really showed interest in what we thought or did but everyone knew what happened between them

pls don't tell me they have a clique here... oh my god and i thought the rumors were false

I mean.. not really but also kinda yes? Better drivers stick together since they're always spending time together, you know. No one cares about the ones who're limping behind, well besides Pierre and Esteban, but they're only kinda involved because they're close to Charles and Lance. And Lewis and Fernando aren't really on their level, they keep to themselves

why are men problematic

not you obvs, but like... jeez really felt the love here when we got welcomed

Welcome to F1 kid, it's a shithole

thanks, it's so lovely here

dad?

i think it's worse than we thought

Honey, what are you talking about?

everything. you should see the group chat with the drivers right now. i thought people were joking about f1 drivers being bitter and bitchy towards each other, but there are literally groups and alliances or whatever the fuck is going on there

and if that's only the drivers... i don't want to know how the teams are

Oh.

but also like, what is that going to stop us? we made plans, we know what to do but dear lord are men stupid. well not all but most of them. i literally had to watch how yuki and daniel were fighting because of a team issue in the GROUPCHAT with all drivers

and when max told them to drop it, he got called a dan-cocksucker, can you imagine??

everyone seems to know why they're fighting besides me and ollie, i knew there was tension in alpha tauri but this?? it's a new level of what the fuck is going on here

Are you alright?

i am

just

yk had to tell someone who's not kev since he has been involved in this forever and is used to it. but i still thought

well idk what i thought, maybe i'm just stupid for my wishful thinking

should've known all of this was pr and that most rumors are true. it will make our lives a bit harder

Don't worry, no matter what they throw against us, it's no alien invasion. They're just whiny little men after all and I'm literally Iron Man

i know dad

love you. and thank you

Of course, anything for you

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel, @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles , @fangirl-dot-com , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora , @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozart , @leclucklerc , @yl90 , @thebook-bitch

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

[janeyseymour]

Scrubs- pt 2

part 1

for @sweetpinkstrawberriez with the prompt: the reader getting to meet the rest of Melissa’s family

*entirely unedited*

WC: 3.75k

Since that first seventeen minute, quite the unconventional first date, you and Melissa have been on a multitude of other dates. Some are in between little lulls and breaks that you have during your shifts, some are dinner dates when you’re able to make it work, and others are overnight when all you can do is collapse onto the couch with her and curl into her figure to fall asleep after a particularly hard shift. It’s not conventional by any means, but the two of you make it work. And you find yourself falling for her more and more. But nothing is official between the two of you, not yet at least. Nobody has brought up the words ‘girlfriend’ or ‘partner’ or ‘significant other’. So you remain in a little bubble of limbo land. You’re oddly okay with that if it means that you continue to get to see her.

“I have off tomorrow and the next day if you wanted to do anything,” you tell the woman you’re seeing softly over the phone.

“I unfortunately am not available tomorrow,” Melissa tells you. “Nonna is having everybody over for a luncheon to prove that her stroke was ‘bullshit’. But Sunday, I would love to see you.”

“Yeah,” you smile into the device. “I’ll see you Sunday. Tell Bea I’m glad she’s feeling better.”

So, Melissa shows up to her nonna’s on Saturday alone. And immediately upon being spotted, Bea is pestering the redhead.

“Where is that pretty girlfriend of yours?”

“What do you mean?” Green eyes are rolled. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Nonna.”

“Y/N, the nurse?” Bea says as though it’s obvious. “Your ma says you’re still seeing her relatively frequently, and everyone else’s significant others are here, so she should be here too.”

“Nonna,” the redhead sighs. “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s not my significant other, she’s not my-”

“You’ve been on dates?” A nod of the head. “You’ve kissed her?” Another nod. “You have feelings for her and still see her?” One final nod. “So, you’re dating. She’s your girlfriend whether you want her to be or not.”

“Unofficially,” Melissa tells her grandmother.

“So invite her over,” Nonna instructs. “And before you try to lie to me and tell me that she’s working, I already know that she isn’t.”

“And how would you know that?” the second grade teacher asks, eyes narrowing.

Bea just smirks. “I know a guy. Now go call her and invite her over. If you don’t, I will.”

You’re sitting out on your front porch reading a book on this exceptionally nice day when your phone starts to buzz to life next to you. Melissa’s smiling face is on the screen, and you can’t help but furrow a brow as you place your book down and answer your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey hun,” you hear her deep voice, and it sounds somewhat agitated.

“Hey,” you turn your voice to butter. “Is everything okay? I know you said you were supposed to be at Bea’s house right now.”

“I am,” Melissa sighs. You don’t know it, but she’s rubbing her temple as she prepares to ask you this question. “Are you doing anything right now?”

“Besides sitting on my front porch reading my book? No. Why? What’s up?”

“How would you feel about coming over to Nonna’s? She’s practically begging for you.”

Your eyebrows creep up your forehead. “Uh, yeah, sure. Send me the address?”

“I’ll just come pick you up,” Melissa tells you. “I’m not far from your place anyhow… only about ten minutes.”

When she pulls up to your house, you’re sitting there looking effortlessly beautiful in a sundress and a light bit of makeup. She makes her way out of the car and up your steps.

“You didn’t have to get out of your-”

She shushes you with a soft kiss as she pulls you in gently by the waist. You’re left somewhat breathless as you pull apart, although you aren’t sure why. It wasn’t an intense kiss by any means- maybe it’s because you’re swooning at the softness of her touch this time.

“You look beautiful,” she compliments you quietly.

“Thank you,” you smile softly as you tuck a few stray hairs behind her ear. “You look… wow, Mel.”

“I look like I always do,” the redhead laughs softly. “Probably worse considering we’re all just hanging out at Nonna’s house. We should probably get going too, before I hear anymore from Nonna. She’s already texted me eight times since I left her house… ten minutes ago.”

You allow her to lead you to her car and climb in. When you pull into a spot, your eyes go just the slightest bit wider at the amount of cars in the driveway as well as running up and down the street.

“Don’t let it get to you,” she tells you softly. “It looks like a lot of people, and it is; but everyone is spread out and doing their own things.”

You hum softly in response before undoing your seatbelt. You climb out of the car. By the time you’re closing the door and spinning around to face the house again, Melissa’s hand is in your own and squeezing gently- as if silently telling you that it’s all going to be alright. 

The two of you make the trek up to the house, and as soon as she’s opening the door, all eyes land on you. Well, those who are in the front room- including Bea Schemmenti herself.

“There she is!” the matriarch of the family claps her hands in delight. “Oh, Y/N! Get over here!”

You chuckle as you drop Melissa’s hand gently and make your way over to your former patient. She’s hugging you tightly, kissing both cheeks of yours, and telling you that she’s absolutely thrilled you’re here.

“Glad to be here,” you smile softly, a deep shade of red creeping into your cheeks. Nonna only continues to hold herself close to you until you feel Melissa’s presence.

“Nonna, let her go,” the redhead rolls her eyes as she takes your hand back into her own. When Kristen Marie coughs and looks at her expectantly, the woman sighs. “Guys, this is Y/N. She was one of Nonna’s nurses at the hospital-”

“That I did not have to be in!” Bea interjects.

“And we’ve been hanging out for the past month or so,” Melissa finishes.

The family just eyes you warily before turning back to their conversations. The teacher just pulls you along into the kitchen, offering you a drink. You smile and gratefully take a glass of wine as she pulls herself out a beer.

She gives you a tour of the house, holding your hand the entire time as she does so. She introduces you to everyone in the family with a smile on her face, but she never once uses the word ‘girlfriend’. You don’t much mind- the two of you haven’t spoken of it. That is, until she’s showing you the last room- the den where all of the kids hang out.

With such a big family, there are about ten kids playing in the den. It’s loud, it’s exciting, it’s everything that you would expect from a bunch of rowdy kids. But upon ‘Aunt Lissa’s’ entrance, they go silent and wide eyed. They’re only that way for a second though before they’re all cheering and tackling her in hugs to the point that she has to drop your hand to hold onto a few of the little ones as she tumbles to the floor. 

“Good grief,” the redhead groans playfully as she pulls herself up from the floor. “I told youse, Aunt Lissa is getting too old to tackle, and youse are getting too big.”

They all just give her cheeky and not at all apologetic smiles as they continue to cling to her in any way they can. And then their eyes land on you.

The youngest, who you would later learn is her cousin’s daughter, cocks her head to the side as she inspects your looks. “You’re pretty.”

“Thank you, hun,” you smile warmly, keeping your voice soft.

“Who are you?” another asks- and it isn’t rude or ill-intentioned. It’s a simple question full of curiosity.

“That’s actually why Aunt Lissa came down,” the redhead cuts in gently as she scoops the smallest one into her arms and settles her on her hip. “This is Y/N, and she came to join us for today. I wanted to introduce you all to her.”

The oldest of the group, maybe about nine, looks between the two of you with a knowing look. “Aunt Lissa?”

“Yeah?”

“She your girlfriend?” the kid asks bluntly.

Green eyes meet your panicked ones, and you can see the same look in hers. You give her a small little shrug and a smile- one that you hope conveys she can saw whatever she feels is right to explain your situation to a bunch of young children.

“Something like that,” Melissa chooses to say. “Something like that.”

“But Aunt Lissa,” the littlest one lays a gentle hand on the woman’s cheek.

“Yes, Elizabeth?”

“Nonna only lets family over,” Elizabeth states finitely. “So… she gotta be your girlfriend.”

Melissa looks to you again with a sparkle in her eye. “I would say she’s definitely something like a girlfriend to me… we just haven’t gotten that far to talk about if she wants to be a girlfriend to Aunt Lissa or not.”

The little girl shrugs as she starts to twirl the red curls around her little finger with a yawn. “She should be. She’s pretty.”

“I’m glad you think so, Lizzie,” Melissa chuckles as she strokes the little wisps down. “Is someone getting sleepy? Is it time for nap time?”

The young girl shakes her head adamantly, but she does lay her head down on her aunt’s shoulder. “Just like Aunt Lissa cuddles.”

“And Aunt Lissa never says no to that,” the redhead says gently as she drops a kiss to Elizabeth’s temple. “But I am going to head back upstairs with Y/N.”

Lizzie shrugs and tightens her hold around Melissa’s neck. The three of you head back up the steps, you now holding both your wine glass and her beer bottle as your… something like a girlfriend… carries the little girl.

You end up settling on one of the couches in the family room, just taking everything in. What Elizabeth had said about Nonna only letting family over for gatherings like this sticks with you. Does she think that you and Melissa are girlfriends? Does she not know that you’re really not together yet- at least not officially?

You shake those thoughts from your mind though as you feel a hand interlace with yours with a gentle squeeze. Melissa is looking at you with that soft look that you’ve grown quite fond of as she keeps another hand gently on Lizzie’s back, the little girl now dozing softly.

“I think we may be stuck here for a while,” the redhead jokes with you. “Liz loves her sleep, and if she wakes up too soon, she’s a cranky little bugger.”

“You’re really good with her,” you compliment softly, leaning over to kiss her cheek. 

She smiles back. “I try. She makes it easy for the most part. They’re all really great kids down there.”

You hum softly before leaning into her figure a bit more. The two of you take in the chaos around you for a bit until you hear Nonna’s voice calling that lunch is ready and to start filling up plates. But Melissa still has the little girl on her.

“I can grab our plates,” you offer quietly.

She smiles at you and kisses your cheek before nodding. “That’d be great.”

“What should I put on your plate?”

“A lil scoop of everythin’,” she tells you. “The Schemmenti’s can cook.”

You chuckle softly before heading into the room where all the food is, and your eyes widen just slightly. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this much food in one room before. 

You oblige her requests, filling two plates with a little bit of everything laid out before heading back to her. You hand her the plate and utensils intended for her before taking Lizzie out of her hold.

Once you have the little girl settled on your own chest, you glance over to see Melissa looking at you curiously.

“So you can eat,” you shrug softly and continue to hold your… girlfriend’s (?) niece close to your chest.

Others start to fill in the room, and they look at you with a sense of warmth as they see you holding onto the smallest member of the Schemmenti family while Melissa eats.

Lizzie wakes up in your hold a bit later.

“Y/N?” she asks quietly.

You just nod with the softest of eyes, ones you know show warmth and kindness and that you use with patients consistently. “Yeah, hun. Are you hungry? Should we go fill up a plate for you?”

The little one climbs off your lap before holding out her hand and looking at you expectantly. You take it, of course you do, and allow her to lead you to the spread of food once more. You fill up a plate for her before taking her back to where you were sitting previously.

Voices had filled the living room as everyone questioned Melissa and the fact that you were sitting in on a family gathering, but as you entered, they all hushed.

You just smile at them all as you sit back down next to Melissa, holding Lizzie’s plate. The little girl climbs back into your lap before beginning to feed herself. The entire time, you just watch with such a fondness in your eyes. You ignore the fact that almost the entire Schemmenti family is staring at you.

Eventually, she’s finished, and she’s holding out the napkin that you had brought for her. You clean up her face, wipe down her hands, and let her decide what to do next.

“I go play,” she tells you with gusto. Before she runs back off for the den though, she squeezes you in a tight hug, her cheeks squishing into yours. And then she’s off. 

Only then do you reach for your own plate, now cold. It doesn’t matter though- Melissa was right: the Schemmenti’s sure do know their way around the kitchen. You lean into Melissa’s side a bit with a smile as you start to make your way through your own lunch. 

A throat clears, and only then do you look up. All eyes are on you.

“Hm?” you hum through a mouthful of food.

“How did you do that?” One of Melissa’s cousins looks at you wildly.

“Do what?” you ask, once you’ve swallowed.

“Get Lizzie to sit with you like that? She literally only goes to Nonna, Mel, and her parents.”

You shrug and look to the woman sitting next to you, silently asking if that was true. She nods. Then you shrug again. 

Once you’re finished your meal, you insist on helping clean up as a thank you for allowing you to join their apparently sacred family meal.

“You don’t have to, Y/N,” Bea tells you.

You wave her off. “I insist, Bea.” You take everyone’s plates and stack them high before carrying them off into the kitchen like a waitress.

Melissa goes to follow, but her mother coughs, stopping her.

“What, Ma?”

“When are you gonna just ask her to be your girlfriend?”

“We haven’t talked about it yet,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“You ain’t dating her?” A cousin pipes up.

“I-”

“They’s datin’,” Nonna cuts in. “Whether Melly wants to admit it or not. Why you think Y/N’s here with us for family lunch?”

“We aren’t dating,” Melissa huffs. “At least not yet.”

“Well, you should be,” Kristen Marie tells her sister. “I see them puppy dog eyes she gives you, and you have a lovesick look in your face- disgustin’.”

“Shut it,” the redhead glares at her sister.

“Is all I’m sayin,” the blonde sister shoots back with a smirk.

The two of you do the dishes in a peaceful manner, much like how you usually do them in the comfort of either of your homes, before she wraps a hand around your waist.

“So,” she sighs softly as she kisses you.

You kiss her back gently. “Yeah?”

“How you like the family?”

“Love ‘em,” you reply with a cheeky smile. “Especially the little ones. Lizzie is adorable.”

“She is, but what Gia said is true,” Melissa tells you. “Liz won’t go to anyone but 

Nonna, me, or her parents.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re something special, you know that?” the redhead tells you as she tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Just bein’ able to waltz into my life, into my family… An’ so, I was thinkin’-”

Whatever she’s about to ask you, and you have an inkling of what was to come, is interrupted by Lizzie running up the steps and flying into both yours and Melissa’s legs, using them as a shield.

“Liz!” Melissa gasps out in shock.

“Sophia’s trying to catch me!” the little girl squeaks out. 

Somehow, this ends up with the two of you roped into their little game. It’s a little bite of domesticity with Melissa, and something in your head tells you that you’re going to be a part of this family for a long time- even if just as a friend. The Schemmenti’s have already welcomed you in, specifically the oldest and the youngest, and of course Melissa.

Eventually, you’re able to get out of the game, the redhead telling them that Aunt Lissa is too tired and needs to go be a boring adult upstairs. They protest, but she stands her ground. She goes to take you with her, only to be met with a chorus of protests.

“I’m a little tired too,” you chuckle softly as you crouch down to meet their eyes. “But I promise I’ll come play again before your Aunt Lissa and I leave, okay?”

“Pinky swears?” Lizzie holds out her pinky.

“Pinky swears,” you interlock your finger with hers before kissing your thumb and pressing it to hers. You stand up straight, smooth out your dress, and take Melissa’s hand in your own before heading back up the steps.

You can’t help but smile at the little voice giggling to her cousin’s, “Y/N even knew about sealin’ it with a kiss!”

It’s a long while before you and Melissa go to head out. Her family had fully invited you into the conversation, wanting to get to know you more, catch up on life, and spill the little secrets of Melissa as a child to you. It’s… it’s something special that you’ve found yourself in. And then of course, you couldn’t break your promise to the kids, so you head downstairs and promise them ten minutes of playing before you were to really head out. Melissa stays up with her family, who all look at her with a sense of urgency.

“J’ask her out yet?” Nonna looks at her granddaughter expectantly.

“Well, I was gonna,” the redhead sighs dramatically. “But then Liz came up and roped us into their game.”

“She’s real good with them,” a family member notes. “My Alex said that she adores Y/N and thinks you two should be together.”

“‘Course she said that,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “I’m gonna ask her, okay?”

“You better, ‘fore she realizes what a shit show you are and runs,” Kristen Marie teases her sister. 

Melissa goes to smack her sister, but you walk back up the steps, Lizzie on your hip. The little girl has her one hand twirling your hair around her finger while the other hand plays with the necklace that hangs from your neck.

“Hey,” you smile and make your presence known. “Lizzie wanted to know if Aunt Lissa would come down for the last five minutes to play?”

Lizzie nods excitedly.

“What are they playin’?”

“The big kids playin’ fort, but I wanna play dolls,” the little girl mumbles. Then she looks at her aunt. “Please, Aunt Lissa.”

The three of you head back down the steps, and five minutes turns into fifteen before you really do try to head out.

“No!” Lizzie protests. “Keep playin’, Y/N.”

“Y/N will be back,” Melissa tries to placate the little girl.

The three year old looks at her aunt with big green eyes, ones that nearly mirror Melissa’s. “You pinky swears?”

“Pinky swears,” the redhead smiles as she promises her niece.

By the time the two of you leave, you’ve had a million more hugs from the little ones of the family, Bea has kissed your cheeks multiple times, and Annette has handed you multiple Tupperware containers full of food to take with you.

You and the redhead end up in her car with warm hearts, fully stomachs, and a slight blush tinting your cheeks now that you’re finally alone.

“Your family is precious,” you tell her with a smile, taking her hand in your own.

“No they ain’t,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “But they sure as hell love you.”

You smile at her.

“I- I know it’s probably a bit too soon to say this,” she fiddles with the ring that sits on your middle finger. “But… they love you, and I love you.”

Your eyes go almost comically wide at her words. She was right, this was very early to be saying that word. “I-”

“I don’t expect you to say it back,” she tells you quickly. “But I wanted you to know… and I’ve wanted to ask you this the entire day, but any time I went to, we were interrupted.”

“Yeah?” you ask, a smile dancing across your face. You know exactly what she’s going to ask you.

“Do you wanna… you know, actually date? Be my girlfriend?”

You laugh. “Wow, Mel. How romantic. Really, such a charmer.”

“Hey… I’m not great at the hard questions,” she rolls her eyes. “But, what d’ya say?”

“I’d be honored,” you chuckle as you lean over the center console to kiss her. “And so you know, I love you too.”

Neither of you know it, but Nonna is standing at the window watching the two of you. She smiles and claps her hands as she turns back around to face the rest of the family. “Melly’s got a girlfriend.”

“About damn time,” Bea’s daughter chuckles.

Tags

(and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[cut-the-camera]

Gally x Male! Runner! Reader - The Maze Runner

Author's Note: I have recently got in touch with 11 year old me and re discovered my love for the maze runner and this character so I'm afraid everyone will have to deal with this for a while. I do feel like I'm about 9 years too late for this fandom but I'll leave it here anyway in case there are any closeted Maze Runner fans still alive and kicking in 2025 🙏

The reader has a vaguely outlined character of their own that I felt for this story so I’m sorry if you feel that’s out of character for yourself!

Trigger Warnings: General things that go along with dystopian media like injury, threat, language, blood, fear, and death/threat of death

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Anthem of the Maze

You arrived in the glade, just like everyone else with no memories and you were pulled out by the boys of the glade, joining the twenty ish boys that had already been there for nearly a year

Y/N gasps as he snaps awake, sirens wailing in his ears. He sharply inhales, desperate to pull what little dusty air there was into his lungs. His eyes dart around the confined space that he now inhabits.

The teen boy struggles to his feet, gripping the metal walls that surrounded to him to pull himself up, working against the current that's pulling both him and the box upwards.

He catches his reflection in the metal walls of the room and softly brushes his shaking hand against it, a pit forming in his stomach as he realises that...he barley recognises himself. His H/C, H/L hair and E/C eyes are completely unfamiliar to him. He watches his own hand stroke his cheek softly to prove it really is him in the reflection.

His mind whirs trying to recall anything that could ease his mind or comfort him but he's only drawing vague ideas of what he's supposed to be thinking. Parents, home, friends, school all are things he vaguely knows the concepts for but now can't understand why or what they mean to him.

Eventually, the box stops abruptly, the force knocking Y/N off his feet and winding him as he hits the cold metal floor again. There's a pause for a few seconds, blaring alarm falling silent leaving only the occasional mechanical clank and Y/N's laboured breathing.

Just after Y/N manages to get himself up and leans on his elbows, two great doors open in the roof and light hits his eyes like a bomb has gone off, completely disorientating the young boy even more than he already is.

There is a sudden surge of light, fresh air and voices. Voices. His head spins as a hoard of teenagers are all mumbling excitedly and examining him like a fish in a bowl leaving him feeling a bit like he'd just been raptured.

"Look at the new greenie!"

"Move shuck-face I can't see!"

"It smells like clunk down there,"

"You don't smell much better dude,"

As his eyes adjust to the light, the pure white environment turns into blurry dark shapes and eventually the figures of young teenage boys all of similar age to him, staring down at him.

Y/N eventually finds his voice, silencing the crowd with a single, stuttered and shaky word, "h-hello?"

One of the boys leaps down from the surface and slams down in front of him, extending a hand for the boy that's on the floor.

"Nice to meet ya," he says, nodding officially, "welcome to the glade."

Y/N barely has time to take the boy's hand before he's hauled up and thrown down on the grass, the sudden movement abusing his already shaken stomach to the point where he thinks he might vomit.

Several more pairs of hands are on him, grabbing at his shirt and trousers, tousling his hair, gripping his arm and grazing his hand all in some attempt to 'help him up.'

"Alright!" The boy who pulled him out of the box calls, "back off, give him space or he'll klunk himself,"

As Y/N's feet hit the floor again and everyone backs off, he finds the time to finally look around at where he'd been put through the gaps that the boys have now created. Grass stretches out far and wide surrounded by tall concrete brutalist walls where vines climb up the middle and then trail off like it can go no higher. His head whips around to look at the whole of his new environment, unintentionally showing himself to the whole circle of boys some of whom snigger and reach out to poke him.

The sudden contact brings his attention back from the glade to the boys in question. There was around 20 of them raging from probably 14-18 all dressed in dirty and fairly worn clothes with dishevelled hair that look like it was cut by their own hand and they're all looking at him with wide, interested eyes.

A taller boy, Alby, says a lot of words very quickly and Y/N does his best to try and catch up, turning the facts around in his head. 'tour of the glade,' 'dinner at 19:00,' 'rules'

"Do you remember your name yet?" is the very last thing Alby asks him.

Y/N looks down and comes to the horrifying realisation that ....he couldn't, he shakes his head unable to say anything and is met with a sympathetic look from the Glade leader.

"It'll come back to you," he says, "for now I'll give you to Gally, he'll show you around"

Logically, Gally is the first person you really bond with seeing as he's the one that takes you on the tour and has to answer your many questions

"How long have you been here?" Y/N asks as they make their way past the homesteads on their little tour.

"Few months," Gally mumbles, kicking his foot into the floor and pulling up some of the grass, anything to avoid looking even slightly vulnerable.

"Damn," Y/N lets out almost involuntarily, recognising what he said as Gally glares at him softly.

"Yeah well get used to it greenie, you're gonna be here for a while too,"

"Would you stop calling me that?" He asks politely, if a little exasperated, trying to work out what all the words used by these people meant like he'd skipped out on a few classes when he was learning his own mother tongue.

"What'd you want me to call you?" he asks snidely, "shank? shuckface? klun-"

"Y/N."

"What?"

"Y/N," He repeats, "it's my name, remembered it on the way over here,"

Gally's shoulders sink slightly, his body language relaxing realising that the boy isn't trying to be confrontational with him.

"Oh," he says softly, "well, nice to meet ya Y/N,"

"Nice to meet you too, Gally,"

Y/N's gentle smile catches for a moment, infecting Gally's face as he relishes someone in the glade, for once, being nice to him without any prior judgement of his character or perceived notion of his bravado and it was kinda nice. It did have to end though as Gally thinks about what he was doing and stops smiling just as fast as he'd started.

"yeah alright, better get some rest, big day for you tomorrow,"

You would try all of the jobs in the glade with Gally rather liking you helping him out with building work but the gladers all started to realise that you probably had a better use...

Y/N settles in fairly quickly, he tries gardening which proved tedious to him, the same with cooking although he's quite good at it. Gally likes having him around for building, he's strong, works hard and doesn't 'annoy the klunk out of him 24/7,' which is his exact verbiage to Alby when he was asked how Y/N did. Though, he does have to yell at him a few times over petty mistakes and his optimistic, 'can do' attitude makes him want to rip off his own face sometimes.

Clint makes the executive decision that Y/N is far too hyper to be trusted with people's health and/or medicine so he has to forgo his trial with the med jacks, leaving him with very few options left to try.

While he was making his way through the different jobs within the glade, the others, particularly Newt, started to notice something.

He was fast.

It started when Gally left a hammer across the glade and sent Y/N to go and get it and he returned in less than 30 seconds (Gally then thought the guy was messing with him and made him do it again just to prove he wasn't,) then Newt sent him to collect some fertiliser and the boy got there and back on the tail end of a minute, then he chased some chickens back into their pens for the slicers in ten seconds flat with no chickens harmed in the process and by then people were starting to talk.

"We should at least try him" Minho argued that night in the council meeting this caused. Y/N did start to wonder why it was that chasing some chickens had garnered him this much attention to the point where he was now standing in the middle of the room with everyone's eyes on him and them all talking about him like he wasn't there, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

"He goes out there and gets himself killed!" Gally argued, not fully sure why he's scared of that.

"Maybe not! We should at least try him, if we don't let at least one of the greenie's try being a runner we'll never get any new talent,"

"Alby?" Gally turned to now converse with the only person he thinks can back him up, "come on you can't seriously be considering this?"

There's a pause, everyone wondering what their leader was going to say. None more than Y/N who didn't quite know what he was getting himself into.

"....fine, Y/N's runner trial is tomorrow morning."

Everything in the glade works as usual for a long time actually with you going out with the runners every morning and coming back every evening to eat dinner and listen to Gally pester you about whatever it is that was bothering him that day

Y/N shovelled down the plate of food that Frypan placed in front of him, barely able to swallow the first mouthful before Gally threw himself down next to him.

"They need to put a note in that box to send me better damn tools, I've been trying to fix the shucking pig pen all damn day and I'm nowhere near,"

"I have tomorrow off, can't I help you?"

"You don't have to do that," Gally urged even if he was smiling at the offer of help, "you're supposed to rest on your day off"

"I don't mind," Y/N smiled, the chicken he was digging into distracting himself from the fact that Gally was staring at him

Gally recognised his feelings for you early on, despite how closed off he may appear, he's very in-tune with the way he actually feels even if he chooses to present it in a different way. It's not like he doesn't try, he does many times whether it's choosing to sit next to you at dinner, fighting Alby trying to give you a dangerous job, giving you massages when your muscles hurt, staring at you or just having really obscure, symbolic conversations with you that you can't possibly understand as confessions when it just sounds like he's talking about birds or freedom. It becomes impossible, however, to hide it on one particular day…

Minho drags Y/N back through the doors of the maze yelling the for the medics until his throat burns. Everyone in the glade was at their side nearly instantly with Gally clearing the glade faster than he ever had in his life, falling next to you and watching as you bled onto the grass.

"Minho what the fuck happened?!" he yelled to Y/N’s running partner, pulling at his clothes where the blood was coming from, his breathing frantic and hands desperate.

"The walls were changing," Minho panted, "stupid shank fell and scrapped his leg, I don't get why it's bleeding so much"

The medics get to him fairly quickly and thankfully it's not a bad wound so they can get him patched up easily with only an order to stay off running duty for a week or at least until they say it's healed enough for him to go out there safely.

The damage however, was done, everyone had seen the way that he flipped his absolute shit when Y/N got what turned out to be the slightest of injuries and they started to suspect there was something going on between the two that wasn't really being discussed

He vaguely heard about the rumours whispering around the glade but he can't bring himself to care much as he sticks by your side whenever he can while you recover, trying his best to make you feel better which is when it all comes out...

"What's that in your hand?" Y/N asked as he lay in bed with his leg and ankle rested up on a pillow.

Gally sat beside him, as he had fo the past few days, clutching something in his hand, "I uh...made this." He held out his hand and within it was a string necklace with a carefully carved wooden and stone pendant.

"Ah that's pretty, how long did that take you?" Y/N leaned forward and held it softly in his hand, running his finger over the pendant

"Few hours, needed something to do with my hands," he answered bashfully, pushing Y/N's hand away when he tried to hand it back, "nah, I made it for you,"

"For me? how come?"

"Thought it might make you feel better," he shrugged, "and uh...I wanted to uh...tell you something,"

"Yeah?" Y/N asked, tying the necklace around his neck and making sure it sits nicely against his shirt

"Promise you won't laugh?" Gally asked, a vulnerability in his tone that wasn't there before and wasn't usual for the young boy in front of him.

"yeah...I won't I promise," Y/N assured, a little worried at this point his eyes tracking the other's movements to try and work out what it is the other was going to say.

Gally averts his gaze down to the floor, fiddling with the cuff on his wrist to keep his hands occupied and hs anxiety at bay, "You uh...you really worried me when you got hurt you know," he said, "I thought you got..I thought you got stung or something and I thought I'd ...lose you,"

"Lose me?"

"I ...like you Y/N," he eventually spits out, shuffling uncomfortable in the shocked silence for a while, "I don't ...know much abut what it's supposed to be like but...I know what I feel for you and it's ...different to how I feel for everyone else, I don't wanna scare you off since you're the only one out of all these shuck faces that even wants to talk to me but I feel like I can't hide it anymore. It's okay if you don't feel the same but I-"

"I like you too Gally."

I think generally the two of you are alright. The glade doesn't strike me as a place that's particularly homophobic. You probably catch the odd joke or snide comment from one of the others that's met with either a glare from Gally or a fist fight if it's a bad day but generally I think Alby makes sure that the two of you are fairly left alone and people are generally a bit too scared of Gally to ever cause a major problem over it.

Everyone always says this but it's true, he's insanely protective over you. You could be 6'9 and two years older than him but he would still swing for boys who look at you the wrong way. Contrary to popular belief, he's not violent by nature but he's not afraid to defend the shit out of you if anyone says anything about you or god forbid touches you in some way

It was a small scrap, that was it. Y/N was never one to start fights, everyone knew that, but he was no wuss. Shoving thirty something teenage boys into a confined space for years on end for sure meant that spats would arise especially when, like on this particular occasion, one of the gladers sees another as a ‘push over’

Y/N with his all smiles, gentle optimism, teamworking, puppy dog like persona had attracted the attention of a group of gladers who assumed he would lie down and take anything they wanted him to. This, as they would come to discover, was false.

Gally heard yelling outside the builders hut in the early evening that day, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before so he figured it was just shuckfaces being shuckfaces until he heard one particularly enthused glader yell something along the lines of, “get him Y/N” or “go on Y/N,” he wasn’t quite sure on the specifics but he heard his boyfriends name loud and clear and was instantly on high alert.

He was prepping himself to throw a heafty punch to defend his lover, planning all the ways he’d explain to Alby how it was that the other gladers ended up with a rock shaped hole in his face but when he got there he found that he didn’t quite need to…

Y/N had the glader pinned to the ground, both of them adorned with mud and the slightest of scrapes. Y/N wasn’t actually quite sure when the other boys in this glader's gang ran off like children and left their leader to the wolves but he didn’t very much care either.

For a few moments, Gally doesn’t move, his thoughts working on overdrive as he takes in the scene before him. His boyfriend, who that morning was using the time off cause of his injury to make flower crowns from the weeds in gardens, was currently beating the shit out of another gladers. He considered, for a moment, not getting involved not because he wanted to let you defend yourself though he did, it was more because he found it fucking hot.

Soon Newt arrived, and much to Gally’s dismay ended the little show early, tugging on Y/N’s arm to pull him off and ordering someone to get the other glader to the med hut

"You could have been badly hurt," Gally scolded lightly as he carefully examined the tiny scratches on his boyfriends arms and neck after everything had calmed down.

Y/N took the opportunity to admire Gally, his eyes taking in the concentration of his partner, "you should see the other guy," he joked softly.

Gally couldn't help but laugh quietly, shaking his head, "you're nuts,"

He worries about you a lot, not just because of the fight you had but for many reasons, especially after you head back into the maze after your injury. He makes a point to always give you a hug and wish you luck before you head out, always sending you out with a 'be safe' message

You teach him a lot. He assumed there was nothing he had left to learn, he knew how to build houses, make moonshine and stay alive and that was all he deemed important before he met you.

“Oh come onnnn” Y/N groaned as he lay on the tree branch above Gally’s usual quiet spot, “there has to be something you do for fun,”

Gally shrugs, “We have play fights,”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, “Something a bit less destructive?”

“Like what?”

“Dancing?" he asks, "Singing?”

Gally can't help but let out a dry laugh thinking for a moment that his boyfriend was messing with him but soon realised he wasn't, "No! I'm not good at either of those things,"

“You don’t have to be good to have fun!” Y/N carefully dropped down from the tree as Gally scoffed.

“C’mon” the H/C boy held out his hand for Gally, "dance with me,"

“What- no-“

"humour me," Y/N begged, keeping his hand outstretched, "pleaseeeee"

Gally made the mistake of looking the other in the eye and caught sight of the pleading expression of his boyfriend and, what can I say, he was done for.

"Fine."

A few gladers saw it through the branches of the trees far away, Y/N gripped tightly onto Gally, attempting to teach him some form of tap dance or at leats that's what it sounded like from how heavy footed Gally appeared to be.

"Sorry!" Gally laughed as he stepped right on Y/N's shoe.

“Careful," Y/n smiled as he kept a firm hold on his boyfriend, "there’s a danger of you having fun if you keep this up”

After that he's a lot more receptive of 'fun.' He sings with you round the bonfire (as long as everyone else is joining in and his own voice cannot possibly be heard by anyone other than you,) he brings you more little carvings and creations that he comes up with in his free time, he dances with you in the privacy of the woods and he'll lie in bed with you making up little stories as you run your fingers across his body in an attempt to calm him to sleep.

Gally often has problems with sleeping as you'd expect, his nights plagued with nightmares and sleeplessness meaning he often spent them alone, far away from the homestead so he doesn't disturb anyone else. That was, until you came along. He ever outright asks for your help of course, you often just wake up to find him out of bed so you go and search for him somewhere else in the glade either talking him to sleep, softly rubbing his back or he'll sometimes sheepishly ask you to sing him to sleep.

Y/N slowly made his way over to the deadheads, the leaves crunching under his feet and alerting Gally who sat far in the horizon, hugging his legs close to his chest.

He turned, his shoulders relaxing when he realises it's just his boyfriend and not some kind of threat or one of the other gladers coming to ridicule him for having nightmares.

"What're you doing up?" he called to the H/C boy as he approached.

"I could ask you the same question," Y/N says, taking a seat next to the other, relishing the contact they had even if it was just the tips of their knees

"I can't sleep," he grumbled, closing off his body more than it already was in a desperate attempt to not show his perceived weakness

"Can I help?"

"I don't know," Gally shrugs, his gaze wandering off into the distance and taking in the extent of the glade only illuminated by their soft candles and the rising of the sun. "Just...be here I guess,"

Y/N nods softly and lets them both sit there for a moment, their breaths intertwining into one, comfortable sound

"What will you do?" Y/N asks him, breaking the silence after a while, his head resting on his arm, "when you get out of here?"

Gally just shrugs, "haven't thought about it," he says gruffly which in all fairness was true, he's never wanted to get his hopes up too much if they were just going to stay there forever and he has no idea what the outside world even looks like anymore.

"Oh come on!" Y/N urged, "There has to be something you want to do!"

Gally shrugs again, "what'd you wanna do?"

"Sing," he stands quickly knocking Gally's arm away from him, shuffling his feet then spinning with his arms outstretched, "and dance and eat chocolate and go swimming and run through nature rather than shucking concrete,"

Y/N lurched forward, his hand clasping around his boyfriend's forearm and pulling him up to join him, keeping his hand comfortably on Gally's arm. "And kiss you"

Gally can't help but smile at the boy in front of him, his unwavering positivity on display once again showcasing every reason Gally likes him.

"I love you," the builder said fondly, a distant quality to his voice that sounds a bit like he wasn't supposed to say that out loud because...he wasn't. He'd never said that before and it wasn't something he was planning on saying in case he ended up scaring Y/N off.

"I mean ...uh-"

"I love you too," Y/N replies with little hesitation, his hand finding it's way onto Gally's cheek and his lips meeting his shortly after.

The kiss feels comfortable, gentle as Gally's hands find their way to Y/N's waist and stay there as they live in the closeness between them for a while.

Suddenly, Y/N feels Gally's lips rip away from him as a siren blares its way through the glade in the early hours of that morning. Their eyes show panic for a moment before they realise what's going on.

"New greenie time," Gally announces before making his way out of the deadheads, keeping a grip on Y/N's hand.

He's instantly jealous of Thomas. Jealousy was something that he'd felt before of course but after living with the gladers for so long and having everyone know about the two of you, he had very few worries that any of them could potentially take you from him until...Thomas came along and he knew nothing about what his intentions could possibly be. He sees you talking to him a lot seeing as you were the one that was tasked with him giving him the tour on one of your off days and it drives him to distraction

Gally's attention wavered from the guy he was sparring with in his own make shift fight club as he watched Y/N lead Thomas around his welcome party. He was so distracted, that the other guy managed to get an edge on him, pushing him back to a soundtrack of the gladers going 'oooooh.' He didn't care much about this guy, he had a new plan now so he shoved the poor guy back right into where Y/N and Thomas were walking, knocking the new greenie down.

"What'd you say greenie?" he asks, "wanna take me on?"

Y/N raises an eyebrow at him as everyone starts chanting for Thomas to join the fight. As the two started to spar, Gally found himself looking up a lot for Y/N's approval, to see if he was impressing him which distracted him long enough that Thomas managed to get him down. He fell at Y/N's feet, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as his boyfriend shook his head and walked away.

"You didn't have to do that," Y/N tells Gally later when the other eventually finds him sitting on one of the logs by the bonfire.

"Do what?" Gally asks, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend.

"That...power play thing you did there," he laughs softly as he wipes some of the dirt from the fall off of Gally's face softly with the pad of his thumb, "all it did was get your face planted,"

"I got him in the end," the builder pouts somewhat defensively.

"you mean after looking for me to see if I was watching?" Y/N asked playfully, leaning into his boyfriend's grip, "you didn't have to try and impress me baby, I know you’re a good fighter,"

Gally doesn't respond, keeping his eyes low, unable to dispel the rumour that he did that entirely for Y/N's approval.

"look at me," Y/N took two fingers and turned Gally's cheek to pull his gaze into him, "you have my attention okay? I'm yours, always."

He nods and rests his head against Y/N's softly, the two taking the rest of the party to spend time by the fire while everyone else fawned over the new member of the glade.

He was a little bit more comforted after that with his jealousy subsiding but he still didn't trust Thomas even if he couldn't pin point why. When Ben came back stung, he threw his arms around you and didn't let go for a long time only repeating, "I'm so glad you're okay," because it dawned on him that it could have been you

His sleeplessness got even worse and he spent most of the day glaring over at the new greenie, hating the atmosphere that he brought to the glade. That morning he hugged you for a few seconds longer than usual, anxiousness building in his chest as he watched you run off into the maze with Alby and minho after Ben got stung and sadly, that anxiousness would became 100% justified.

"They should be back by now," Thomas turns to Newt, voicing his own anxiety which was unfortunately, overheard by Gally.

"Don't you think we know that Shank?!" the builder snapped, not waiting for a reply before storming over to the doors of the maze, watching, waiting.

Soon, everyone's there, waiting to see if or when the three would come back. Gally stands with his hands on his knees staring at one spot in the dead centre of the corridor, willing Y/N to come back and whispering under his breath, "come on Y/N, come on come on,"

Gally felt like his heart was going to give out when the walls sarted moving with an ominous grinding sound, actually making him whimper out a quiet, 'no.'

When three figures did eventually round the corner, everyone started screaming. They noticed that what was slowing them down was the need to carry their leader down the corridor.

Gally nearly tears his voice out screaming for Y/N to just leave him, come back to him, just run. fucking. faster. In the end, however, it's no use and it looks like the walls are going to close. Just before they do, Thomas slips out from everyone and forces himself in between them in some poorly judged attempt at a rescue mission that ends with a lot more yelling and the slamming shut of two large concrete doors.

Gally's legs give out almost immediately, sending him to the floor in complete and utter shock as everyone else stands there staring at the place where they'd been, reeling from everything that had just happened.

What the fuck just happened?!

He stays there completely unable to move at all. He sits with his back against the walls just staring down at the grass in what looks like shock. At first, some of the gladers try to convince him to come away or come for dinner but he lashes out making people just leave him be. Newt, knowing it might be hard for him, brings him dinner so he can stay there and then leaves him too.

There's an eerie silence, the sound of the walls slamming shut on the four in the maze still sounding like it's echoing even twenty minutes later. Gally's back burned as he leaned against the hard concrete of the walls, his eyes locked on the floor in a sort of trance like state as his mind replayed what just happened.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard one of the gladers try and speak to him but it sounded like they were distant, under water almost as he couldn't process what it was they were saying to him.

Wordlessly, Gally's hand found itself on the glader's chest, forcing the other guy backwards and away from him. He wasn't even fully sure who it was that he'd pushed until he looked up through tears to find that it was Frypan.

He tries to open his mouth to apologise for the shove but...nothing comes out and he doesn't try too hard to force it. Frypan just nods at him, walking away and leaving the young boy to his grief.

Gally can't bare to go back to their room or their bed, that would just cement to him that Y/N was gone and most likely, never coming back. So he stays right there where he last saw him, sitting in the pouring rain crying into his knees.

Slowly, Newt approached causing Gally to immediately try to appear defensive. Just as he's about to snap at the second in command to piss off or ask him want he wants, Newt puts one hand up in surrender and uses his other one to slowly place a plate of food down at Gally's feet.

"Try and eat something," is all he said softly before he turns and starts walking back to the homestead.

As he picked a the food slightly, Gally can't help but consider what the glade will be like now Newt will have to take over from Alby and ...Y/N was gone forever.

He's still there the next morning when the doors start to open, shaken awake by the sound and everyone rallies around them upon Chuck's request to see if the four of you were still alive.

He stands there biting his nails as the walls start to open again, almost not wanting to let himself get his hopes up when he knows the possibility of Y/N coming back was slim to none.

The pit in his stomach widens as the walls open to an empty hallway, an empty space where his boyfriend stood the night before. He turns, defeated about to finally make his way back to the homestead when he hears Chuck calling for him

"GALLY!"

He whips his head around to see what the big deal was when he sees it...four figures racing towards the entrance to the glade. He has Y/N swept up in his arms before he even knows what he'd doing, his head spinning as he buries his face into his boyfriend's shoulder.

"fuck fuck fuck fuck," he sobs into Y/N's shoulder, his hands gripping him so tightly they're probably millimetres away from drawing blood, "don't you ever do that to me again you hear me?!"

"I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay..." is all Y/N repeats, his own fear and panic from the night they faced leaving his body as he's held by the person he loves most, "I'm here Gals, I'm okay"

Gally didn't know what to do with all of the fear that he felt, he'd almost lost you and all he could think to do was find someone to blame, someone to keep you safe from and that, unfortunately, ended up being Thomas.

He was fucking pissed when he found out that you went with Thomas and the others back into the maze which led you to have your first ever argument as a couple

Y/N followed his stroppy boyfriend out of the council hut and chased him down as he stormed through into the deadheads.

"Gally! Gally where are you go-"

"The hell were you thinking!" Gally turned, snapping at him before he can even register what's going on, "You barely survived a night in the maze and what you just run back in there on his order?"

After he'd recovered from the slight shock of Gally's swift turn, Y/N folded his arms defensively, "We found something Gals, actually really found something!"

"You could have died out there."

"Oh come on-"

"No Y/N!" He cuts in, "First Ben gets stung in broad day light, then Alby then your new best friend kills one of them, those things are clearly fucking angry with us and this is making it worse! You had no idea what could have happened when you followed him through there!"

"I have no idea what's going to happen if I stay here!" Y/N argued, "I'm trying to help us Gally!"

"No! You're trying to get yourself killed by trusting him!"

"Thomas isn't dangerous!"

"Really? Cause everything started going wrong when he showed up!" Gally flailed his arms around in a way that would have almost been comical if Y/N wasn't slightly pissed.

"Correlation doesn't equal causation,"

"Oh slim it with your fancy words Y/N I don't care"

Y/N scoffed in almost shock, "why're you talking to me like that?!"

"Because you're being insane!"

"No you are!" he argued, "We can't stay here forever Gally!"

"It won't matter anyway if you carry on like this!" Gally spits, "I just hope your new boyfriend's worth dying for."

"Gal-" but he was gone before Y/N could get another word in, storming off performatively to some other part of the glade.

You shake your head, having to walk away to calm down which brought you to the mapping room thinking it would be empty. It was there however, that you found Minho and Thomas

"Congratulations" Y/N sighed as he threw himself down on the seats on the outside of the room, "On becoming a runner, I think you'll do good with us,"

"Someone should tell that to Gally," Thomas mumbled making Y/N laugh softly

"He's..." Y/N sighed slightly, "I'm sorry about him..."

There was a silence for a moment as Thomas worked up the courage to ask the question he's been toying with for the last few days.

"Hey what's the---what's the deal with you and him?"

Y/N laughed softly, looking down and letting his hand carefully play with the necklace that Gally made for him, "He's my boyfriend if that's what you mean,"

Thomas didn't quite know what to sat after that but it didn't matter very much seeing as both him and minho were soon running out of the hut and towards where the girl had woken up.

Through all the commotion, Y/N pushed through the crowd of gladers and towards the river were he found Gally, sitting staring down at the light ripples.

"Hey," Y/N spoke softly, making a move to sit down next to his boyfriend. He carefully nudges his knee against Gally's, a quiet display of peace among the two.

When he got little more reply than a side glare, Y/N sighed, "come on Gally don't be angry with me anymore okay? It's done, lets move past it,"

"What if you'd have died,"

"I didn't"

"Can you stop being so fucking casual about this!" He yelled, his body finally turning to face Y/N, "I could have lost you!"

"You sound like a broken record Gally," Y/N sighed, reaching out to touch his boyfriend's face, a part of him shocked that Gally let him touch him, "I'm here, I'm fine and I can take care of myself"

The other boy bit his lip softly, his gaze averted downwards seeing as he knew that he'd give in even if he accidentally caught Y/N's eye for a second.

"But..it's my job to look after you,"

"And you do," he says sincerely, "but sometimes you have to trust me too,"

The pair made up, they always did. They watched the stream run under their feet and rested their head upon each other until the sun slipped beneath the walls and a gentle chill began to cut through the air.

"Come on big guy," Y/N patted Gally's shoulder as he rose to his feet, "let's get some rest"

You two were fairly okay after that with only a few more spats whenever he got a little bit too aggressive with Thomas. You had however, noticed that he was a lot more hot and cold as of recently, even more than he already was. One moment he was sassing you about trusting Thomas again and the next minute he was holding onto you so tightly you felt like you were struggling for breath.

If there was any anger he felt towards you still after that, it was instantly forgotten by the time the grievers got to the glade. He barely let go of you and even if he did he never let you leave his sight. You couldn't help but feel though, that you should be out there helping your fellow gladers rather than hiding and so that's exactly what you did ...

As the hard stone walls ripped apart again, all the gladers fell into silence, disbelief. It lasted for approximately three more seconds before orders were being barked around the group and a nauseating mechanical sound in the distance.

Y/N felt a hand grip onto his wrist, firm and grounding as his head began to spin. Gally runs, speeding off towards the other side of the glade and gripping onto Y/N’s wrist so tightly the poor boy felt like his wrist was about to break as they weaved their way through the Glade and eventually settled in the box.

He pushed his boyfriend down into the box only then giving the H/C boy time to hold his painful wrist, "Jesus Gal," he spoke, "d'you have to drag me like that"

His boyfriend rushed over, calming slightly due to their new found safety, "I'm sorry," he mumbles out, taking hold of Y/N's wrist and kissing it softly.

"It's alright," Y/N soothed softly. He opened his mouth to speak again but he's cut off by screams of their fellow gladers breaking through the air, "we have to help them."

Y/N sprung into action nearly immediately, pulling himself back up towards the doors of the box before he's pulled back down by the back of his belt, landing back down in front of Gally, "Gally wha-"

"You're not going back out there are you crazy?"

"Gally I have to! We protect each other that's the rule!"

"But-" Y/N was gone before he could finish, rushing out into the glade and doing his best to help the other gladers find hiding places, avoid grievers and even fight off a few

The next thing he felt was a sharp pain in his stomach as the tail of a greiver swung around and launched him into the air. He eventually hit the roof of one of the huts, sending it tumbling to the ground in a pile of rubble around him, a beam landing straight into his head and knocking him out cold.

Gally found you shortly after that, ignoring his fear and running through the griver infested glade to get to you. He was pissed beyond measure after that, deeming the whole thing Thomas' fault which led to the swift punch to the face that Thomas received after the griever attack.

He'd seen you hurt before, of course he had, but this was the first time he'd seen you out cold from an injury, lying there believably dead and bleeding and that terrified him. If it wasn't for the fact that he had his hand pressed against your pulse, he would have had a completely breakdown right then and there. He personally carried you to what was left of the med hut and stayed with you for a lot of the night, only leaving to do some more screaming and somehow take control of the whole glade.

Y/N woke up slowly, his eyes focusing on what looked like what remained of the med hut. His head spun as he tried to sit up, pausing for a moment to just stare down at his lap to let his vision focus again.

"you're awake," he heard from the doorway, turning his head to see Gally pushing open the cloths and rushing towards his bedside.

"What happened?"

"Everything's gonna go back to normal now," Gally reached forward and softly kissed Y/N's forehead, "I promise,"

"What're you talking about?" Y/N asked but before a response came, a loud commotion started out into the glade, "What's that?"

Gally's gaze quickly shifted from the door to his boyfriend, an almost guilty look on his face, "I'll be...I'll be right back stay here," he said before rushed out back through the cloths.

Ever defiant, Y/N pushed himself up and out of bed, pushing through the cloth and out into the slightly intense sunlight.

"Gally," Y/N rushed after him as fast as his slightly fragile body would take him, arriving at the doors of the glade right as Theresa's hands were being tied back to a pole, "what's going on?"

"Y/N!" Theresa called, Y/N was actually quite sure that this was the first time the girl had ever even looked at him, never mind referred to him by name,"You have to talk him out of this he's being insane!"

"What the hell is going on?"

"This place is what's insane Y/N," Gally speaks lowly, almost like he's trying to convince him of something, "I don't wanna cross anymore names off that wall, especially not yours"

"Gally this isn't the way to do this," Y/N tries to argue but he's quickly cut off as Gally yells again, sending his already fragile head spinning.

"Look around! Look at our glade! This is our home!" He gestures around at the smokey huts and materials strewn across the grass, "this is the only way."

“Gally c’mon this is ridiculous,” Y/N spoke, his own voice at its low tone still aggravating his head ache, "I know this is a mess but turning on each other now is the last thing we need"

“I know you’ve had a blow to the head just now but do you not see that you’re being insane?!” Y/N couldn't help but flinch back slightly as Gally's voice rose, "They're not one of us! Tie him up." he barked a command that fell on deaf ears.

"Did you hear me?! I said tie him up!"

The uprising was fast.

Y/N watched as people he cared about split in half into groups, leaving or staying. He considered it for a moment and truthfully, he had no clue what he wanted, neither option seemed great. There was stay in the glade with Gally and get mauled by grievers or there was leave and potentially get mauled by grievers just a few meters away from the glade with the tease of freedom.

He softly rested a hand on his boyfriends back, feeling how tense he was even just with one hand, “Gally come on! Either we die in here or we-“

“Die out there!” He argues, pushing Y/N's hand off of him as a reflex though, he did seem like he regretted that the second that the touch was gone

“Or maybe not! Come on Gal this could be our chance!" Y/N backed off towards where Thomas and his little revolution were standing, he kept his boyfriend's hand in his hoping that he could pull him over with little resistance but Gally breaks their contact real fast, their hands breaking apart feeling like a tear in the fabric of their world.

Gally averted his eyes from Y/N knowing that, sooner or later, he'd give in if he held that eye contact, he surveyed the gladers that were standing in front of him, one betrayal stinging a lot more than the others, “Good luck out there with the grievers,”

Y/N’s heart sank as he heard those words and hears the quiet scampering of some of the others off into the maze behind him. He wanted nothing more than to yell that Gally was being stupid, grab him by the wrist and force him to come with them but…he couldn’t.

Newt tapped him on the shoulder, forcing his gaze away from his boyfriend and urging the two to run deeper into the maze.

And they did

Gally didn’t handle your absence well at all. He turned and surveyed what was left of the gladers, feeling betrayed and having to bite back tears. The only reason he wanted everything to go back to normal was to keep you safe and….now you were gone.

The other gladers were shocked that you came along with them with Newt occasionally shooting you confused glances as you sprint through the maze for the very last time as if wondering whether or not he'd imagined you leaving Gally or if that actually did happen. He was even more shocked when you absolutely busted your ass trying to protect all f them from the grievers, yelling that you'll hold them off while they got the door open.

Walking through the control room felt...off. At every new thing that you saw, you turned to point it out to Gally who, no matter how many times you looked for him, was never there.

You had to be physically restrained by some of the other gladers to stop you from going over to Gally when he'd been stung, your struggling only getting more and more frantic.

"Just let go!! I can handle this!"

"No Y/N, he's been strung he's dangerous"

"Oh fuck off he wouldn't hurt me!" just as he spoke, Y/N turned his attention back to his boyfriend of two years who, throughout all the commotion, had now pulled a gun on them. The gladers all collectively took a small step back almost instinctively, even Y/N who stared froward, a confused and hurt look flashing across his face, "Gally....?"

"Gally.." Y/N made moves to slowly inch himself forward, his eyes flicking between the eyes of his boyfriend and the loaded firearm currently pointed at his chest., "We're done, we can go. we're free."

It all happened fast, way faster than Y/N could process as Thomas distracted Gally, a bullet was fired, Chuck jumped in front and...Gally was on his knees

Y/N yell cut through the air. His ears rang with the force of the gunshot, his own voice sounding muffled. The gladers all released their hold on him to fall by chuck's side or cover their mouthes in shock but Y/N's legs took him to his boyfriend before he'd even registered what was happening.

"Gally!!" his hands trembled as they moved from Gally's chest to his face to his stomach, desperate to workout what to do as blood stained the clothes of the love of his life and the spear stuck out of him like a flagpole, "baby stay with me please, I got you,"

You sob over his body until you're forcibly dragged away from him by guards, kicking and fighting them just like Thomas did to stay closer to Chuck

He hardly registered the large mechanical door opening as he stuck by his boyfriend, keeping his hand tightly wound against Gally's. He fought, hard against the soldiers holding him but in the end he just broke down, letting himself be overpowered and dragged through the doors with the other gladers and out into the blinding light and chaos of the outside world.

The air outside was heavy, thick with sand and heat somehow so different to the glade despite the fact they were merely a mile away.

As he was forced into the helicopter, he finally lost sight of Gally's body eventually just turning his sight down to the floor knowing he wouldn't be able to look Thomas or Minho or any of them really in the eye.

His stomach lurched as the helicopter rose higher and higher and the grey haired man said something he wasn't quite tuned into. He turned his head away from all of the gladers and out of the window, feeling some of their eyes on him, he couldn't face any of their stares, not right now. As he looked out, he saw the place they'd been in clear detail below them, the maze and the glade turning into a smaller and smaller spec the higher they got.

They'd been there for three years, their whole life revolved around those four walls and now they were watching it from above like gods. His eyes studied the arial of the glade, their home for the past three years, taking in what was now the burning remnants of their supposed prison that they were desperate to escape from and the Maze walls that he'd spent a lot of his life running and realised...he just wanted to go back.

Author's Note: I'm not entirely sure if Gally is out of character or not, I tried to combine his character in the films of the big tough guy with the scared, kinda pathetic boy that he is in the books so I hope I did that some justice. I saw a quote someone wrote about the books that said something like that “Gally’s a character that seems obsessed with making the ‘right decision’ and really just wants someone to listen to him” so I tried to go for that energy.

I was also pretty inspired by a couple of other pieces dystopian and apocalypse media like the last of us, his dark materials and the hunger games for this series so if anything about it seems familiar that's why

I may edit this as time goes on as I feel that it could be written a little bit better

Let me know if this is any good by the way! I do have the rest of the trilogy kind vaguely planned out for this pairing and I had fun writing it so if that's something you wanna see let me know!!

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