#As easy as it would be to have them make out here or even go further than that

[okaylikeschaewon]

Chapter 10: Choices

~6k words, male reader, smut

“I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” Sakura yawned, rubbing her eyes.

“Kkura I’m fucking scared.”

She took one proper look at you and that was enough to let the drowsiness instantly fade from her face. The fact that it was the break of dawn and that she had just rolled out of bed a moment earlier seemingly no longer mattered. Shrugging her shoulders to protect herself from the cold, Sakura shut the door behind her and stepped out into the crisp morning air, pulling her robe tight around her body.

“What happened?” she asked softly, her beautiful, round eyes widened. Her expression was warm, despite the chilly morning air.

“What if she doesn’t take it well?” you asked, your breath catching in the cold and your teeth clattering.

“Let’s slow down for a second,” Sakura began shivering. “But first, can we go inside? It’s freezing out here.”

“Uh…”

“Oh, right,” Sakura frowned. “Car?”

“That works,” you agreed, turning around and leading Sakura towards where you parked.

Sakura got into the passenger seat as you turned on the car.

“Much better,” Sakura shivered, holding her hands up to the vents as you started blasting the heat. “Alright, now do you want to explain what you’re talking about?”

“I slept on it, like you said,” you began anxiously. “I can’t shake my head around… I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Sakura sighed, her eyes shimmering with compassion. Her gaze was soft and understanding, radiating a soothing energy that promised there would be no judgment on her end.

“You’re going to need to clarify who you’re talking about.”

“Sorry. It’s Zuha. I can’t get that girl out of my head. I swear ever since she confessed, I’ve felt something inside me that I just haven’t been able to shake.”

“Then I guess you have your answer.”

“Isn’t it fucked up though?” you raised your voice unintentionally, nearly shouting at the girl without even realizing it. “Sorry, I just mean like, for Chaewon, I feel awful. I still really love her, I think, but I think I also have feelings for Kazuha? I don’t know, nothing makes sense to me anymore, what am I supposed to do?”

“I’m not here to tell you what’s right and wrong,” Sakura replied calmly. “I love both of those girls with all of my heart.” 

“And I still have a lot of love for both of them.”

“But you can’t see both of them romantically,” Sakura smiled gently. “There’s no real nice way to put it, you have to pick one.”

“It just feels wrong,” you let out an exasperated sigh. “Why can’t I just have them both?”

“It’s one thing to sleep with both of them, but it’s another to have feelings for both,” Sakura chuckled. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it would be fair to either girl if you tried keeping both.”

It sucked to hear, even if for just a moment you tried to trick yourself into thinking it would be possible. “You’re right, I know, it just blows.”

“And I’m not telling you which one you should pick, that’s your decision,” Sakura continued. “Lucky you, by the way, in the grand scheme of things there are worse choices to be left with.”

“I know, I’m making my own life difficult.”

“I’m not saying it’s an easy choice.”

“But I have to make it.”

“Yeah, you do,” Sakura pursed her lips as her expression bled empathy. “They both really like you, more than you probably know.”

“That doesn’t make it easier.”

“My bad,” Sakura chuckled before her expression turned more serious. “If it makes you feel better, I know better than anyone that you’ll do right by Chaewon even if you decide to move onto Kazuha.”

Better than anyone. Something about that comment didn’t exactly sit right with you, and immediately you figured something was wrong.

“Sakura?” you gave her a look of confusion as you fixated on that one line.

“I’m fine,” her voice cracked as she quickly turned away from you to look out the passenger side window.

“I… are you…” your voice trailed off, and it was like there was a rock in your throat. All of a sudden you couldn’t speak, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You reached out for Sakura’s shoulder with your hand.

“I said I’m fine,” she repeated firmly, pulling her shoulder away from your touch, still staring out the window. “Just… give me a second, please.”

“Sure, let me know,” you leaned back slowly.

This couldn’t be much further from what you expected the conversation would be like. It all happened too fast, you were still trying to comprehend how it turned into this. You kept your gaze fixated on Sakura’s back, confused and worried about her, forgetting about your own dilemma for the moment.

She brought one of her hands up to her face, presumably wiping her eyes with the cuff of her robe, followed by a couple of silent sobs. Her body trembled just enough for you to notice, as if she was still outside in the cold, but the car was as warm as it could be. She let out one final sniffle, shrugging her shoulders as she took a deep breath and turned back to face you.

“Sorry about that,” she stated, her beautiful round eyes stained scarlet. “As I was saying-”

“Sakura,” you cut in, barely hearing your own voice over your thumping heart. “Are you okay?”

A shaky exhale escaped her lips as her brow furrowed. Her lip began to tremble, and her eyelids began blinking rapidly. She nodded, unable to find her voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Sakura laughed as a couple of tears flew down her face. “About how pathetic I am? How it takes one mention of our past to send me down a fucking rabbit hole all night?”

“What are you talking about? You’re not pathetic-”

“Aren’t I?” she shouted, her voice unstable and shaky, each syllable wavering and threatening collapse. “I bet you didn’t think about it at all after we stopped talking last night.”

“Of course I did,” you responded unconvincingly, fully aware that she knew you were lying.

“Yeah? Did you also spend all night looking at pictures? Pictures that I refused to delete? Even though I told myself I would?” Sakura snapped back. “That’s what I thought.”

It was tough to hear and you were admittedly at a loss for words, staring at Sakura as she was on the verge of fresh tears. It hurt so unbelievably bad to see her like this. You’ve known this girl for years and seeing her in this state was a rare occurrence, but it was so fucking difficult whenever it happened. You hated it. You hated every second of what was happening in this car.

“I’m fine,” Sakura choked, still struggling to get the words out. “Being reminded last night just really had me thinking about those days.”

“I’m sorry-”

“It took me a really long time to forgive you,” Sakura confessed, ignoring your apology. “Like, a really fucking long time.”

“I had no idea-”

“I once told Zuha I was going to murder you in your sleep.”

“Oh,” you raised your eyebrows. “Understandable, very reasonable.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Sakura scoffed. “What you did was… honestly it’s been long enough, I’m going to say it. What you did was fucked up.”

“Excuse me? We both agreed to end things when we ended them,” you finally found your voice and defended yourself. “How can you put all the blame on me like that?”

“You’re right, we both agreed,” Sakura retaliated with her voice full of rage. “I’m talking about the reason you gave and what you did right after.”

“You mean-”

“Yes you fucking asshole,” Sakura interjected. “Do you have any idea how much that hurt me? And it’s not like she knew a thing, I made sure to never tell her, because it wasn’t her fault, she didn’t deserve to have that in her mind.”

“I didn’t plan for things to happen the way they did, you know this. It just… things just happened the way they did, no one could have seen it coming.”

“I. Fucking. Know,” Sakura sighed with exasperation, frustratingly agreeing as if she knew she had no other option. “Of course I fucking know, I’m the one who basically…” she sighed deeper with heavy pent up frustration behind her before adding in a nearly-silent whisper. “But it still really hurt.”

“I’m really sorry Kkura, I-”

“Never thought about it? Had no idea? Why would you? You had a pretty girl obsessed with you while all I had was fucking nothing, nothing but the pleasure of watching you replace me in less than… however long it was. I don’t even give a fuck about that part, it’s just the reason you gave me.”

She was right, to a degree. It’s not that you hadn’t thought about it, but you clearly did not realize how much you put her through, or perhaps you were just too much of a dickhead to care. She deserved better, and it took you far too long to realize this, you hurt the girl who was there for you far more than you ever could have known.

“Kkura-”

“Alright, fine, maybe I did care about that part as well, maybe I felt like what we had wasn’t very special if you could replace me that quickly. I don’t know, but I could have overlooked it,” Sakura kept going, not letting you get a word in. “Really it’s probably my fault, I could have said no when you asked me that night, I could have just ignored your text, never set you up on that date.”

“That’s not fair at all, no one could have ever predicted that night to turn into what it did. Chaewon wasn’t even in the picture at that point. It wasn’t even supposed to be her, you know this, things just kinda fell into place after.���

“Obviously I do, I set it up,” Sakura snapped at you. “And we both know damn well how I don’t have it in me to ignore you like that, but I probably should have.”

“Sakura, I know I hurt you,” you began as you chose your next words carefully. “But you know my first date with Chaewon was before the announcement, right? I had no idea she was going to debut again, she didn’t tell me until way later.”

“Even if you knew, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but it still matters,” you replied softly. “The reason I gave you was genuine, and I don’t think I would have gone forward with Chaewon had I known about the group. You believe me, right?”

She paused for a moment to think about what you said. “Yeah, I do, and honestly I don’t really blame you, I know I don’t,” Sakura replied, her voice losing the anger and being replaced with a touch of dejection - one that stung much more than when she was yelling at you. “I get it, I saw the way you looked at her. It was clear as day you were madly in love with her, and you two were just so perfect together.”

“That must have made it even harder on you,” you muttered, your vision starting to blur. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sakura replied bluntly. “How could I be upset? Chaewon was happier than I had ever seen her. I was happy for her. Of course I was. It’s not her fault.”

Words once again escaped your brain.

“As mad as I was, I was also secretly happy for you as well,” Sakura confessed with a smile stained with melancholy. “It may sound stupid, but even though we didn’t work out, deep down I still wanted to see you happy. Oh, who am I fucking kidding, it wasn’t that deep down. I wanted you to be happy, even when you hurt me. Pathetic as fuck, right?”

“And I also want to see you happy, does that make me pathetic too?” you replied, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. “I hope you know I really mean that, I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. And my reason wasn’t bullshit, I swear I really felt that way, I just wasn’t expecting that whole thing to unfold the way it did.”

“I know, I don’t think either of us expected it, I didn’t even know it was an option,” Sakura mumbled quietly under her breath. “I promise I never held it against Chaewon.”

“Just against me.”

“Only at the start,” Sakura laughed softly as the tears finally spilled. “You know how I said I know you’d do right by Chaewon? Yeah, as much as you hurt me, there’s a reason I didn’t actually murder you in your sleep.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know, but sometimes things happen,” Sakura smiled faintly, her eyes glistening as she fought the losing battle against the wave of emotion threatening to break through. “Seeing how happy you made Chaewon made it a lot easier for me to forgive you.”

Just like that, tears also began flowing down your face in a way you couldn’t control.

“That… wasn’t supposed to be…” Sakura stammered quickly.

“Sakura I’m so-” you choked up before finishing your thought.

“It’s okay,” Sakura whispered, leaning over and wrapping you up in her arms. “I promise it’s okay. I’m here with you.”

It took you a few moments - squeezing Sakura tenderly - before you were able to compose yourself again. You let go of her slowly and another wave of warmth shot through your body when you saw her face tear-soaked.

“It’s all behind us now,” Sakura said softly. “Just like I was able to forgive you, I’m confident Chaewon will, too.”

“Does that mean you think she’ll be mad at me?”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that,” Sakura quickly backtracked. “This situation is different.”

“Isn’t this one worse?” you asked nervously. “Fuck, Sakura I don’t know anymore, maybe this is all a mistake.”

“I don’t think you should doubt yourself, just listen to what your heart’s telling you. It’s also kinda too late to back out now, think about Zuha.”

“You really think so?”

“I don’t see a better option, but it’s definitely complicated,” Sakura replied nervously. “Just be thoughtful when it’s time to tell Chaewon, if you’re mean to her, maybe I will have to murder you in your sleep.”

“Then let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you half-smiled. “But let’s be honest, we both know I could never hurt that girl on purpose, ever.”

“You probably thought that about… actually let’s not go there again,” Sakura returned your smile half-heartedly. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“I really hope you’re right.”

“Fingers crossed,” Sakura chuckled, wiping her face clean as she opened the door.

The two of you stepped into the brisk air once more. You walked around your car to Sakura who was waiting for you. Without speaking a single word, the two of you embraced in a tight hug, properly this time.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into her shoulder, the coldness of the morning being completely replaced by the warmth of Sakura’s hug.

“Good luck with everything, I’m always here for you if I can help with anything,” Sakura whispered back before letting go of you and shooting you a nervous glance. “When do you plan on talking to them?”

The talk with Sakura ended up creeping just a bit of doubt into your decision, but your mind was still set. You knew, as much as you didn’t want to do it, this conversation had to happen at some point soon because the longer you waited the worse it would become. With that in mind, you returned Sakura’s nervous expression with a look of determination.

“Right now.”

—

“Hey,” you whispered, peeking your head through the door to see if she was awake.

“Oh! I thought it was Kkura,” Kazuha blurted out as she looked up from her phone. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I came to see you, actually,” you answered while opening the door a bit more. “Mind if I come in?”

“Oh, uh, yeah of course,” she replied, sitting up in her bed and putting her phone aside. “Come, sit. What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Kazuha raised an eyebrow at you as if you were an idiot. “I pieced together that much,” she giggled softly. “Did you not sleep well? Your eyes are a bit red.”

“Oh no that’s just-”

“You don’t have pinkeye do you?” Kazuha leaned back away from you. “I really don’t want to wear an eye patch, not during promos.”

“No, Zuha, it’s not pinkeye,” you smiled meekly.

“Okay good!” she giggled again, leaning back in and cuddling up next to you before quickly pulling away in fear. “Uh, sorry, that was… I probably shouldn’t do stuff like that right now with the whole… sorry…”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” you scooted closer to her as her face turned a shade light pink. “Forget everything else for a moment, because things are a bit complicated, but just listen to me. I like you, Zuha. A lot.”

“Oh,” Kazuha blushed even harder. “T-Thank you? I also like you, a lot.”

“I want to make you my girlfriend.”

“What?” Kazuha began blinking rapidly as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “But what about-”

“I told you, please just for a moment forget everything else, we’ll figure that stuff out,” you cut her off. “Just tell me, would you like that?”

Kazuha pondered your words. Unknown to you, her heart was beating harder than it ever has before. “I… I would…” she muttered before smiling brightly at you with her eyes twinkling. “Yes, I would.”

Just like that, you knew you made the correct choice. The way she looked at you, the way you felt right now, everything was perfect. You wanted nothing more in life than this girl sitting next to you, that precious smile and those pure eyes. Your insides were burning up in a warmth of comfort and love that you didn’t know you felt towards this girl, all of a sudden it just came rushing in. That gnawing sensation you’ve had inside you ever since her confession, it finally made sense.

Unfortunately, the feeling only lasted for a fleeting moment before reality came crashing in and Chaewon popped into your mind again.

“What’s wrong?” Kazuha looked concerned as she immediately noticed your shift. She pulled you into her arms, just like Sakura did earlier. “I guess we need to address the elephant in the room.”

“How am I supposed to tell her?” you whispered, pulling away from Kazuha slowly. “I want this, I really do, but I don’t want to hurt Chaewon.”

“And I don’t either,” Kazuha agreed as worry filled her expression. “Should we talk to her together?”

“You think that’s better? It’s a bit of a unique situation, I don’t really know what to do.”

“I don’t either,” Kazuha smiled softly. “You’d be my first relationship, remember?”

“I guess we’ll be traversing some uncharted territory together,” you smiled back at her before leaning in.

Without thinking, you kissed her. As soon as your lips touched, you froze, regretting and realizing this probably wasn’t the right time - but then you felt Kazuha kiss back. You let her take control as she ended up on top of you, her lips pressed softly against yours.

“Zuha,” you whispered into her mouth.

“You asked me to forget everything else, just for a moment,” she whispered back before kissing you again. “Can we really forget it all, please?”

“You mean?”

“Yes,” she gasped as she sat up and began taking off her shorts. “Can we?”

Your mind went a bit hazy as you thought back to the other night. The memories of how good Kazuha felt flooded into your brain.

“Fuck it,” you also began lowering your pants before you flipped Kazuha onto her back and spread her legs.

“Is this wrong?” she asked, looking up at you with her hair framing her face as if she was some sort of angel laying there beneath you.

“Probably,” you shrugged as you pulled her underwear to the side. “We could stop, we don’t have to do this right now.”

“No!” her voice cracked, immediately followed by an intense red glow of her cheeks. “I just mean… uh…”

“Don’t explain, I understand,” you smiled down at her as you lined yourself up. “Whatever happens in this room this morning, it’s between us and only us, let’s agree to put everything else on pause, alright?”

“I’d like that,” Kazuha nodded at you before spreading her legs a bit wider. “Go slow?”

“Let me know,” you whispered back as you pressed yourself forward carefully. You leaned in close, slipped your hands under Kazuha’s body, and pressed your mouth to her neck, kissing it softly as she flexed her body. “Try to relax, if you can.”

“It’s really fucking tight,” Kazuha whispered, arching her back.

“Should I stop?”

Kazuha hesitated, taking a couple deep breaths before speaking. “No, not yet, just… just slowly…”

“Okay,” you moved up a bit and began lifting Kazuha’s shirt up.

She helped you take it off, exposing her perky tits, letting a sweet moan escape her lips as you pressed your mouth to her chest.

“Oh that’s nice,” she whispered as you started moving your hips. “Good, but still really tight.”

“Hold on,” you moved your hips back and pulled out. “How about we slow down even more?”

Kazuha bit her lip. “I’m sorry, for some reason I’m more nervous this time.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled reassuringly while bringing your fingers between her legs. With delicate and deliberate movements, you tried your best to ease her nerves, slowly pressing where she was most sensitive. “We can take our time, or we can try again another time, it’s up to you.”

“How about a different position?” Kazuha suggested as she pressed her fingers down on top of yours and pressed them down a bit harder. “But this feels nice.”

“Yeah? Should we just keep doing this?” you asked before leaning into her again and kissing her collarbone.

“This feels really nice,” Kazuha moaned softly as she pressed her fingers even harder, guiding your hand around her pussy.

Your fingers began sliding easier as time passed. The gentle sound of wetness, accompanied by Kazuha’s eyes shutting and her features softening, put you into a state of ease. It was working, and you didn’t want to stop. You had her entire body relaxing, you could almost see each and every fiber of Kazuha’s toned muscles relax.

She began moaning in a musical-like tone, one that screamed class and innocence with just a touch of naughty. It fit her so well, that pretty - unbelievably pretty - face. Even as she scrunched up her expression, she just looked so fucking pretty. You could stare at her all day.

While this was going on, the pressure building up in your cock was becoming too much. You couldn’t help but start stroking yourself to the view, trying to relax your own body as Kazuha began squirming beneath your fingers. It took a lot of self control, you knew that you could finish in just moments if you let yourself go, but right now you were more concerned with how Kazuha felt.

“You’re so beautiful,” you muttered softly under your breath as Kazuha’s body began trembling. He moans crescendoed, that beautiful voice of hers piercing your ears, but despite the increase in pitch, she stayed quiet. Elegant, in a way, even as she started cumming on your fingers, the epitome of grace and tenderness.

“I want it,” Kazuha moaned, fluttering her eyes open as she let go of your hand.

“What were you thinking? You wanna try being on top again?”

“No,” Kazuha smiled before pulling you closer. “Just like this, I want to see you, to kiss you. Is that fine?”

“Absolutely,” you gasped as Kazuha spread her legs a bit wider for you and took hold of your cock. She gave you a couple of soft strokes before rubbing her thumb against your tip, pressing against the little glob of precum. “That sounds perfect.”

With your cock in hand, you slid forward between her legs, pressing your tip against her entrance.

“Come on,” Kazuha replied while spreading herself even more, showing off her flexibility. “I need this.”

“So do I,” you muttered as you eased your cock into her pussy.

This time was a million times better than last time. She was still perfectly tight, but her pussy accepted your cock beautifully. The warmth and snugness hugged your cock like a blanket, bringing you unmatched comfort and sensation. She had the most ideal pussy.

She was like a flower, her soft and delicate curves moist to your touch. There was this warmth, this allure, that kept you captivated. You were entranced by Kazuha’s body, so much so that you felt this irresistible urge of greediness within you.

As carefully as you could, you grabbed Kazuha’s neck from behind and began kissing her deeply. Once you started, you pressed your thumb against her clit, making little circles along her skin. Your tongue slipped past her lips, gently intertwining and mixing against hers, while you worked her entire body.

“You feel so good,” you whispered as you leaned away from the kiss.

“Give it to me,” Kazuha pleaded with her eyes wide. “Please.”

So you picked up the tempo, pushing your hips harder, pressing your cock deeper. You slowly broke down that layer of delicateness that you viewed Kazuha through - her expression was basically begging for it. The more you fucked Kazuha, the harder you went, and the better it felt.

At this point, your thrusts had lost almost all degrees of tenderness, and both your hands had found their way to Kazuha’s hips. She took it well, bracing herself as you pressed your fingers into her skin and slammed your cock against her pussy. She showed no signs of anything other than raw pleasure as she took your cock over and over.

If she felt good, you felt fucking amazing. You lightened the grip you had on her hips as you slowed down your thrusting. This wasn’t a moment you wanted to rush, but you could only slow down so much - your body wouldn’t let you stop completely, it was out of your control. Still, you made do, sliding your hands up Kazuha’s body and giving her tits a few little squeezes. Her body was fucking amazing.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were too close to hold back. Despite your best efforts, it was already too late, so you took hold of Kazuha’s hips once more, pushing down on Kazuha’s body and shoving your cock into her as hard and fast as you could. Kazuha’s moans filled your ears as she shut her eyes and arched her back beneath you.

She looked so fucking good right now, even as your vision was going blurry. You held on for just a bit longer, fighting back any fatigue as your cock throbbed harder than ever. Her warm pussy felt better than heaven in this moment, and with a couple of final thrusts and grunts, you began launching your cum deep inside her pussy.

“Zuha,” you grunted a final time as your body gave up, collapsing onto her.

The next few moments had you in a trance as you let your cock pulse inside Kazuha’s warmth as she wrapped her arms around your body, rubbing your back softly.

“You feel so good,” Kazuha whispered against your ear. “Oh fuck, you feel so damn good, cum for me, fill me up.”

Such gentle words when delivered through her voice, but she was driving you insane right now. You almost felt paralyzed inside her as your cock just kept on spilling cum again and again, the pulsing felt like it went forever. It took so much strength for you to finally, carefully ease yourself out of Kazuha’s body. Even lifting yourself up off her was a task.

“Fuck, that’s a lot,” you mumbled as you pulled out, leaving your cum spilling between Kazuha’s legs as you reached for some tissues. “One second.”

“Wow,” Kazuha muttered as she gently rubbed herself, spreading your cum around, playing with it between her fingers. “That was something.”

“Something good or something not good?” you asked as you sat back down on the bed next to her.

“Something amazing,” Kazuha smiled softly. “But also a bit inappropriate.”

“If it makes you feel better, Chaewon technically wanted me to do this,” you carefully wiped her inner thighs clean before tossing the tissues away. “Although it still feels a bit wrong.”

“Oh,” Kazuha turned her head away from you.

“Not you, that felt amazing,” you quickly pulled her into your arms for a hug before grabbing her by both shoulders and staring tenderly into her eyes. “Zuha, let there be no confusion, that was fucking perfect.”

“Right, sorry, I guess I’m still just a bit…” her voice tapered off as she looked up at you and gave you a weak smile.

“You’re. Perfect. And. Amazing,” you whispered, kissing her neck between each word. “It’s totally natural to be a bit-”

“Sensitive?” Kazuha finished your sentence. “Because I am, I’ll admit it.”

“And that’s completely okay. What I said was stupidly phrased. I’m sorry,” you wrapped an arm tightly around Kazuha’s shoulders, pulling her to sit next to you, and leaned against her head. “Things are just messy, but we'll figure it out. Together.”

“I hope so,” Kazuha sighed softly. Her hand began exploring your thigh, inching towards your shaft slowly until she gently caressed it with her fingertips. “I wish there was some sort of way that we could do this without all the mess.”

“Zuha, you know it doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” her voice faded softly and she unwrapped your arm from her shoulder, leaning away from you and turning towards you. “Okay, this might sound stupid since you call me Zuha all the time, but I loved that. This time it felt… different?”

“I’m glad,” you smiled as a wave of warmth flooded your body. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly,” you kissed the top of her head. “But one thing - do not call me daddy.”

“Oh no I could never,” Kazuha agreed quickly, sounding completely put off just by the thought of it as she rested her head against your body again. “I guess we should probably talk about boundaries and stuff at some point.”

“We have a lot to talk about, but maybe we should wait until…”

“Until after you talk to Chaewon?”

“Yeah, I think,” you replied as your mind drifted into thought, trying to figure out how to go about things, gently stroking Kazuha’s hair. “Hey, I thought you said we should both talk to her together?”

“Well, I think you got it, I don’t know what I’d say.”

“I don’t even know what I’m going to say,” you sighed. “Zuha, do you think this might cause problems with the group dynamic?”

“Truthfully? At first, yeah, I did,” Kazuha answered quietly. “But then I got to thinking.”

There was a pause, a bit longer than you expected. Kazuha lifted and turned herself slightly so that she could look up at you.

“And?” you encouraged her to continue as the anticipation grew.

“Promise you’ll keep this between us?”

“I promise.”

“I’m serious, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Zuha, yes, I know. Not a soul.”

“Alright,” she bit her lip nervously. “I think there might have been a bit of… something… between Sakura and Chaewon at the very beginning.”

“Oh?” you waited for her to continue as you thought back to what Sakura told you in the car earlier.

“Look, I met them a bit after everyone else, but I could tell there was some sort of… resentment? I don’t exactly know, and maybe it was just because we were all getting to know each other.”

“Well, most of you were.”

“So you see what I’m saying?” Kazuha pursed her lips. “Chaewon and Sakura barely talked. I never understood it since they knew each other already, but then, seemingly overnight, the two of them became closer than ever. I don’t know if the others ever noticed it.”

“Chaewon never gave me details, but I sort of know around when this happened,” you explained. “She told me she spent a night with Sakura, and I didn’t really ask questions.”

“Right. Anyway, the reason I brought this up is because I really think no matter how the conversation with her goes, as a group we’ll get through things, we always do.”

Her words were reassuring at least, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit better. “Thank you, really.”

Then, you leaned in, but before you could kiss her, Kazuha lunged up towards you and pressed her lips against yours, catching you a bit by surprise. She kissed you aggressively until you fell onto your back with her on top of you. It felt like this kiss would go on forever, and maybe it would have if it weren’t for the knock on the door.

“I don’t know what’s going on in there, but I really need to get ready!” Sakura's voice came through the door.

---

A/N:

I posted a poll and based on the first day responses, Dating Seraphs was in the lead. Ask and you shall receive!

The Kazuha arc continues! Maybe? Probably? I guess next chapter will have more answers. The talk with Chaewon, the history with Sakura, sex with Kazuha, there's so much to cover in the next few chapters! Also, there's a cameo appearance coming soon that I can't imagine anyone will be able to guess because I don't know if I've ever talked about this idol, but we'll see how popular she is among my readers (ex-izone member). I'll give this chapter at least a few days to marinate before my next post.

Based on how things are going in my writing world and the initial responses to that poll, Dating Seraphs needs attention. My next post will probably either be Debauchery p2 or something in the roommates universe, followed by Dating Seraphs ch11, and then most likely I'll give Twice some love and post an update to that story. Of course, this is subject to change!

Feedback, requests, messages, comments, asks, whatever you feel like sending, feel free. I'm a bit more active these days with writing stuff, but just please be considerate if you're going to send something. I've gotten a few questionable DMs recently. Use common sense!

[jasper-dracona]

This is why only the already rich can make it That Big in business. They start with a lot so they can bait people in by keeping prices low and operating at a loss for a while. Then they engineer situations of exclusivity by driving out competition, encouraging dependence, making interconnected and interdependent products (think like the Microsoft suite of programs), setting up use contracts, discouraging/stopping piracy and replication, buying out specific pre-existing properties that people are already invested in/used to, and more. Then they increase prices to both recuperate those losses and run at a profit to both fulfill that “duty to shareholders” shit and gain wealth for themselves. But—and here’s the key thing—they can’t increase the prices too quickly or you would very easily notice and get pissed off and stop buying.

So that’s why you don’t notice even if you are old enough to theoretically have noticed the change. They specifically want to make it hard to notice, so they use the frog-in-a-pot method.

Also, even in a situation without full-on monopolies, companies can still operate together to force all of us to pay more. WestJet and Air Canada have been caught making this an explicit deal between them, more than once I believe, and all they ever get for it is a slap on the wrist, really. But other companies can make the deal not explicit but implicit, or this sort of thing can happen by totally normal and passive capitalistic incentives. Think about this: if your grocery store increased prices and you happened to notice this time, and you looked at prices at another grocery store and found they were cheaper, how much would it cost you to go to that different grocery store? Would it take more gas? Would you need to take transit now? Would it take way more time out of you day? It’s a hassle learning where all your stuff is in a new store, isn’t it?

So you’re not super likely to switch grocery stores due to small price increases, so they can all totally afford to increase their prices, comfortable in the knowledge that few of their customers will switch to a different store. It’s easy profit for them, really. Oh! And I completely forgot to mention rewards programs, another scheme meant to encourage exclusivity/brand loyalty.

[hughes-your-daddy]

Idk if you listen to Sabrina but in good graces where she says “break my heart and I swear I’m moving on to your favorite athlete” and now popstar!reader is in a happy but private relationship with Quinn. Her ex thought he could win her back after buying backstage passes and thinks he’s lucky to also meet his favorite athlete backstage only to find out Quinn and reader are together and Quinn is lowkey pretty protective of her

good graces

pairing: quinn hughes x singer!reader

summary: requested above

warning: creepy ex, mild sa

“i’m excited to see you perform baby,” quinn smiles, thumb running over your knuckles as you drive to the arena in the uber.

you had been asked to perform at the nhl all star game at half time, so here you are arriving at the arena for a sound check, ahead of tonight’s performance.

a few of the hockey players would also be there to do some pr, but hopefully none of them should be watching. well, quinn has made it his mission to sneak a peek since he won’t be able to watch tonight.

you quickly arrive, hopping out and grabbing your bag. thankfully there isn’t any paparazzi yet so getting inside is easy. you get taken through to a dressing room area where you and quinn dump your stuff before he moves to meet some of the other players for their pr.

you meet your manager at the rink, seeing the stage set up ontop of the ice like it will be tonight.

“ok so we have a lineup of taste, good graces and espresso, we’ll just need to sound check good graces since it’s a new one.” the stage manager says as you nod, pulling your hoodie tighter around you as you step out onto the ice, uggs keeping your feet warm and stepping onto the stage.

you say a quick hello to your band before starting to check vocals a little bit, saving your energy for tonight you just stay by your mic stand.

you finish good graces and before the music cuts out you hear clapping. confused your eyes drift over to the side of the rink where a group of players are stood, quinn at the centre of them clapping.

you see his smile, wide across his face. as he cups his mouth sending a whoop your way. you giggle slightly at the group before going back to sound check mode, your manager speaking over your in ears.

“we good?” you ask down the mic, your sound desk man sending you a quick thumbs up. you give them one back before handing the mic off to a sound tech and hopping down heading over to quinn.

“you were great baby,” he smiles, pulling you in for a tight hug, pressing a kiss to your temple, “i love that new song,” he whispers making me chuckle.

“you like your line?” you ask seeming him grin wide, nodding his head.

“that’s my sister in law everyone.” you hear jack call out making everyone laugh.

quinn sends him a glare, luke knocking him over the head, as his teammates giggle. quinn hasn’t asked you yet, but there’s been subtle signs, from both of you even his family that you’re ready to take it to the next level.

you say a quick hello to all the other players before you heading back to the dressing room, quinn trailing behind.

“i’m gonna head back to the hotel, do you know how much longer you’ll be?” you ask, grabbing your bag and sliding quinn’s jacket on.

“probably an hour or so.” he smiles, coming up to wrap his arms around your waist, resting his heirs head in the crook of your neck. you let your hands come up tangling in the curls at the base of his neck.

“want me to grab you some lunch on the way back?” you ask, feeling his smile against your neck, nodding.

“that would be insane thank you.” he mumbles before pulling away pressing his lips to yours. you smile into the kiss letting your hands tangle further into his curls before pulling away.

“i’ll see you later baby.” he smiles before you press one more quick kiss to his lips and leaving. you stop by a small cafe on the way back getting two chicken salads and a smoothie before heading back to the hotel.

you decide to just lounge abit, watching a bit of netflix while eating and then showering, before your glam team arrive, starting to set up in the room. you change into a small tank top, easy to take on and off after your makeup and hair when quinn comes back.

“hiya baby.” he smiles pressing a quick kiss to your lips before heading off to the bedroom to have his pre game nap.

your makeup artists does your signature rosey glam, with your hair stylist doing some hollywood curls, setting them in place with some hairspray.

your hairstylist is just finishing your hair when quinn pops in, still half asleep from his nap.

“i’m gonna shower now babe, jack and luke are gonna come up so we can head down together.” he smiles as you nod.

“i just need to get my dress on so we shouldn’t be long.” you smile before he disappears to the bathroom, jumping in the shower.

your hairstylist finishes and your given your dress to change into. you quickly thank them before heading through to the bedroom, hearing the shower in the en-suite still running.

you take off your sweats and tank top, also removing your bra since you can’t wear one with your dress before jumping at the sound of a wolf whistle.

“jesus christ quinn.” you laugh, seeing him walk out with a towel hung low around his waist. he comes over, setting his hands on your waist, a few water droplets covering your chest.

“baby, i got to get ready.” you smile, pushing a few wet curls off his forehead to stop them from dripping.

“do we have to go?” he whines causing you to laugh.

“well i think your captain if you team and im performing under a contract so i think so.” you reply sarcastically before he pressing a kiss to your neck, nothing sexual, just loving since he knows he can’t actually kiss you because your makeup artist would kill him.

“hurry up and dry off so you can zip me up.” you smile, patting his chest as he laughs, moving away to get ready.

you change your panties as well, before moving across to slide your dress on. the gold slip dress, corseted top slides on over your body, opting for a strapless look.

“can you zip me up please.” you ask quinn through the mirror. he walks over, shirtless in dress pants, zipping up your dress before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“you look beautiful baby.” he whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist, letting his head rest on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror.

“mmh, you should go for the shirtless look.” you giggle causing his to laugh before pulling away to finish getting ready.

you move back into the open area of your room, your stylist tying the corset before help you step into your loubiton heels.

you stand to take a few pictures before quinn comes out of the bedroom, dressed in a black suite, with a matching black tie, letting his curls breathe today, no beanie.

he stands back watching you for a bit before you motion for him to join you.

“just a few pictures babe?” you smile and he hesitates for a moment before joking you, letting you team take a few pictures before jack and luke are coming in, smiling when seeing both of you.

“hiya.” you smile giving each of them a hug.

“yous both look great.” jack smiles, pulling away as luke hugs you.

yous take a few pictures all together before your driver is ready to take all of you to the arena.

you head down to the lobby where there is a few paparazzi waiting outside the hotel since most of the players are staying here. you wave to a few, quinn’s hand staying on your lower back, offering a hand to help you into the car, before jack and luke hop in as well.

the drive isn’t too long and soon enough your stepping out heading onto the red carpet. you take a few solo pictures before quinn joins you, wrapping his arm around your waist, yours moving to the middle of his back, tapping your fingers gently, a little code you both have when in public situations.

he looks over to you, matching your smile before continuing to move down the line, jack and luke joining again for a group one before heading inside.

“love you baby, i’ll see you at half time ok?” quinn says, pulling you aside from the hustle and bustle, slipping into a side corridor.

“i did t get to tell you but you look really handsome tonight quinn.” you smile, a blush creeping on both your cheeks.

“not as hot as you though,” he smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, “can’t wait for tonight.” he mumbles against your lips before pulling away and heading down the corridor to the players room.

you giggle to yourself before heading down to your own dressing room where your glam team are setting up.

they help you out of your dress and get into some sweats and a shirt to wait in before having to get ready. you watch the game on a small monitor on the wall, before needing to get into your performance outfit, your team doing a few touchups and heading out to the arena.

you see the teams heading off before being escorted to the side of the stage which is being pushed onto the rink quickly by tech teams.

you begin performer “good graces” a new song with your back up dancers hearing the arena roar at “Break my heart, and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete.”

yours and quinn’s relationship hadn’t been quiet as such but you hadn’t made a big thing about it in public, simply just letting the public see whatever they see, you and quinn just being a regular couple, so hearing that line made the fans go crazy.

you finish up your set, waving goodbye to the arena, but one person catches your eye, someone who you thought you’d left 4 years ago, someone quinn saved you from.

your breath catches in your throat as his eyebrow raises at your eye contact before you keep your composure moving off the stage quickly walking through the corridors.

you space out, letting people move around you, someone taking your microphone, removing your mic pack before your free to go. you find your breath for a minute heading back to the dressing room, your glam team waiting outside.

“give me a minute yeh?” you say politely, flashing a small smile as they nod, letting you inside.

you quickly head in, leaning back against the door closing your eyes and taking a breath. you try to take a few calming breaths before jumping at a voice.

“very nice performance y/n.” he says, and you freeze, looking forward and seeing him, stood there, hands in pockets smirk on his face.

“that lyric huh? you knew hughes was a favourite of mine?” he asks, slowly walking over. your hand darts to the handle, but his is quicker grabbing your wrist.

“what do you want?” you ask, voice wavering of slightly, his grip tightening around your waist.

“i want you back, fuck that hughes boy.” he says getting closer, before he drags you away from the door, flinging you into the small sofa, your head hitting the wall, sending you into a dazed world.

he lets out a small chuckle before you see his blurry figure walk towards you again, towering over your figure.

“you always were good to me.” he says, leaving down, as you try to squirm away. you feel your breathing pick up, his grip tightening one again on each of your wrists, pining you down from moving. you feel tears well up and slowly fall, as your body starts to succumb to what’s happening.

“get the fuck off of her,” you hear a voice yell before he’s being pulled off of you by security, quinn wrapping you up in his arms, “baby, i’m here, breathe baby.” he soothes as you break in his arms, hear still half off from the break.

he holds you for a few minutes before you find your breathing begin to settle again, the room now empty of security, just you and quinn.

“that’s it baby, just keep breathing.” he says, grand brushing over your hair.

“i tried to get away quinn.” you whisper, his lips finding your temple, pressing a soft kiss to it.

“i know baby, but they’ve got him now,” he whispers, letting his head rest on yours as you pull away wincing, “baby, you hurt?” he asks, quickly pulling away at your flinching.

that’s when you realise how deep the ache is in your head.

“i hit my head, he through me against the wall,” you mumble, his hand coming up to check your head, his brows furrowing at the small bump starting to appear on the back of your head.

“i’m gonna get a medic to come check you baby.” quinn says, finger gently grazing over your head.

“don’t you have a game to play?” you ask, sniffling slightly, wiping your nose.

“they can go one without me, just an all star game, nothing serious.” he says sending you a soft smile, before moving to poke his head out the door calling for a medic.

they come in and check your head, doing a concussion protocol to see you have a very small one, nothing too serious but they tell quinn to keep an eye on you.

“let’s get you changed baby, we’ll head back to the hotel.” he smiles, moving across to your bag, pulling out your sweats and his hoodie, helping you get changed out of your outfit into some comfier clothes.

“give me 5 mins baby, im gonna go grab my stuff and ill be right back.” he says, pressing f a soft kiss to your forehead before quickly leaving, letting you rest against the couch, holding a small ice pack the medic gave you against your head.

as promised quinn is back in no time, hurriedly dressed in a hoodie and some shorts, sliders on, hair tossled from the sweat of the first game.

“ok baby, got an uber waiting outside, you think you can walk?” he asks and you nod, quinn moving to pack a couple things in your bag before slinging it on your shoulder and moving to help you up. he slides an arm around you waists before you walk out, security buzzing around the building each sending you a sympathetic smile as you pass.

quinn helps you into the uber before your back off to the hotel, your head falling to rest on his shoulder, as you drive back.

“you gotta stay awake baby.” quinn mumbles, gently nudging you as your eyes start to droop.

you manage to stay awake for the rest of the ride before you heading back up to your room, quinn swiping you room card and guiding you inside.

“lay down baby, i’ll order us some food, you’ve got to eat something.” he smiles, laying you down on your bed. you climb under the covers, letting your head fall back into the soft pillows.

you feel the bed dip beside you, your eyes fluttering open, moving to rest your head on his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

“they’ve arrested him.” he mumbles, you nodding against his chest, “gonna make sure he can never find you again ok?” he says, as you move to look up at him.

“that’s twice now you’ve saved me.” you say huffing out a small laugh, quinn copying.

“mmh, knight in shining armour.” he smiles, brushing your hair back, “i’ll always be here baby, but hopefully it’ll never happen again.” he says, hand moving to cradle your cheek, “i promise.” he says before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“relax baby, i’ll wake you when the food gets here.” he smiles before you rest yourself back against his chest, letting yourself relax a bit for the first time since he appeared.

[rosenclaws]

How the different Logan’s show their affection

Hello I am desperate to talk about Logan rn so here I am making some headcanons oop

anyways...

Origins Logan -

Origins Logan is soft and sweet. He's still haunted by his past which can make somethings difficult if he's having a bad day but you can usually break him out of it with some cuddles or sweet words. Or by making him dinner. He loves when you make him dinner. But Origins Logan is all sweet with his touches. He's the guy to kiss you awake in the mornings while tangled up in the sheets as the morning light shines in type shit you know. Just a teddy bear.

Trilogy Logan -

He is probably the flirtiest out of all of them. I mean we all saw how he would talk to Jean like can that be me plz and ty. But he would be the guy to have his hands all over you. Like you're minding your own business in the kitchen and suddenly he's wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck saying flirty and quite risky things in your ear just to see you get flustered. He's big on some PDA but not others if that makes sense. Like he's not really big on hand holding but when you're sitting on the couch he always puts his arm around you and he has no shame in kissing you loud and messy in front of other people lol. He's also kind of a perv lmao.

DOFP!Logan-

So this Logan has been hardened by a lot of shit and so he doesn't show his affection as easy as he used to. But in my opinion he shows it by being the guy who will do anything for you. Does that make sense? Like he'll help you grade papers or put up the shelf you've been putting off or he'll make you dinner or he'll rub your shoulders. He's not as outward vocally but he shows you in acts how he cares and it's really sweet. Sometimes he'll bring out that old charming self and be flirty which takes you off guard and he loves it.

Old Man Logan -

Now Old man logan is bad at sharing his affection. He's much angrier and meaner and sometimes it just doesn't come out right. He's like a cat who lashes out and then slowly slinks back to your side to apologize. He loves sitting down on a nice plush chair and pulling you onto his lap and rubbing his hand on your back and slipping his other hand up your thighs. He likes the quiet moments and he savors them every time he gets them. He also crawls into bed late at night when he gets home and just pulls you into him and you're half asleep and he quietly shushes you and tells you it's just him and to go back to sleep.

Worst Logan -

I've said this before but he's like an abused dog low key. He will lash out and get incredibly defensive at first and it takes a while for him to warm up to you because of his past but once you break down those walls he is so clingy and lovely. He needs you to be around him at all times. He constantly has a hand on you and is fiercely protective when someone gets to close. He could spend hours just laying in bed with you. You could be on your phone or reading and he just wants to be there and he's happy. He's pretty shy about PDA so he won't like, kiss you messily in front of anyone but he will pull you into a closet and push you up against the wall and kiss you until you can't even speak anymore. He's kinda of a menace too but its okay. He's also a perv but a shameful perv.

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

wicked game

chapter 10 - charming

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

cw: language, alcohol

it was a long, exhausting night after lucas left. you felt numb, empty, lost. but a part of you felt relief. and you felt so guilty for feeling that.

you didn't let the girls come over straight away, you wanted to deal with it yourself and process it, but you knew you needed to go out tonight to stop yourself from moping.

by the time the evening had had arrived, your chest still felt heavy, but the grief had dulled into something quieter. something you felt able to carry.

you allowed yourself to get dressed up, promising the girls you would meet them there as you just needed to take your time.

you stared at the dress hanging on the back of your chair that sarah had given to you back when you first became roommates. "wear this when you want to feel hot. trust me." she had said to you that night.

this was one of those nights.

you put it on, did a quick once over and decided it was good enough for right now.

the kappa tau house was, as always, buzzing and full of energy by the time you got there.

you found kie and cleo, who both did a quick double-take when they saw you, expressions flashing from surprise to concern to that unspoken thank god you’re here kind of relief.

"you made it,” kie said, immediately pulling you into a hug. "how are you?" she asked with sincerity.

you gave a weak smile. "ask me after drink number three."

cleo handed you a red solo cup like she’d already prepared for that answer. "you don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to."

"i know," you said, taking a sip. "i just want to be with my girls tonight."

"speaking of..." cleo nodded towards the corner where john b and sarah were making out. "she's been a little preoccupied."

you laughed, "so they're official huh?"

"apparently so. they're fucking whipped." kie sighed.

"she's never in our dorm anymore. always at his." you smiled softly, glad she had someone like him. "i'm happy for her." they nodded in agreement.

for a little while, it was easy. you laughed, danced, and let the negative thoughts stay hidden. but as the night went on, you felt yourself overwhelmed and in need of a break.

"i'm just gonna go get some fresh air for a bit. you guys carry on." you said to the girls.

"are you okay? do you want us to come with you?" kie rushed, always the first one to worry.

"i'm fine! i promise. just getting a bit sweaty."

"ok, but we're here for you, yeah?" cleo spoke with concern.

"i know i know. i'll be back shortly." you stepped away, slipping through the crowd in the living room and making it out to the garden. it was quieter, darker, with the slight flicker of cigarettes being lit and phone screens.

you exhaled deeply, the cool air hitting your skin like a reset button. you leaned against the wall, letting your head fall back, eyes closed, just trying to feel something besides the dull ache in your chest that comes back as soon as you're alone.

"you always sneak off during our parties?"

the voice startled you, pulling you out your trance.

"i didn’t know you were out here," you said quietly.

"didn’t know you were either. guess we both needed a break."

you glanced at rafe for a moment before returning your gaze to the backyard. "you always this good at finding people when they want to be alone?"

"not really. just tends to always be you." he shrugged, "why do you want to be alone?"

"just not really in a people mood right now."

he tilted his head slightly, watching you. "rough night?"

"lucas and i broke up." you responded bluntly.

rafe didn’t say anything at first, just nodded slowly. no told you so. no smug comment. just a shift in his expression. shock and a hint of sympathy.

"you okay?" he asked after a few minutes.

"yeah," you said finally. "i think it wasn't good for a while. he wasn't like, bad or anything. we just grew apart. it felt pretend. and that's exhausting in itself."

he didn’t push you for more. "i get that," voice softer now. "sometimes it’s easier to fake it than admit it's kinda falling apart.”

you looked over at him then, his face barely lit by the glow of the inside, his eyes steady on yours. there was no judgment there. just a weird kind of understanding.

"you always this philosophical at parties?" you let out a small laugh.

he cracked a smile. "only when i run into pretty girls in gardens."

you rolled your eyes, but your lips tugged into the faintest smile, "charming"

"you smiled," he said, "that’s gotta count for something."

"we seem to end up together at parties away from everyone else quite a lot." you said, sitting down against the wall.

"is that a problem?" he sat beside you, close but not too close.

"not really," you said after a beat, voice quieter now. "just… interesting."

he hummed in response, resting his arms on his knees, head tilted slightly like he was trying to read between the lines of your words. "maybe it’s a sign."

you looked over at him, brows raised. "a sign? for what?"

"that you secretly like my company," he said, glancing at you with the smallest smirk, but it didn’t come off cocky. "or maybe you just keep ending up in the same places i go when i’m trying to get away."

"away from what?"

"the pressure of being a frat guy."

you both burst into laughter, you swatted his shoulder, but rafe caught your hand before it could hit him. and he didn't let go. holding it before slowly brushing his hand against yours, just gently. just enough for you to decide.

you hesitated, then turned your hand over, letting your fingers curl lightly into his. it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t even flirtatious. it was steady. grounding. quiet.

his thumb grazed your knuckles, barely there. "you’re allowed to feel relief," he said softly, his voice low and warm. "even if it hurts. even if it’s messy."

"you always like this when you’re not pretending to be an asshole?"

he let out a small laugh. "don’t tell anyone. ruins the brand."

you smiled again, this time more real.

"i'm glad i keep bumping into you." you whispered after a while.

"yeah." he replied, just as quietly. "me too."

a/n: i hate this chapter wahhhhhhh anyway how much of this is bet rafe and how much is real rafe mwahahha

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub  @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @@jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman @drewsephrry @vanessa-rafesgirl @dreamybabbyy @pogueprincesa @happy-mushrooms @hannaa20002000 @whoismxtti @darlingstarkey @mattssweetheart @wuluhwuhmaster @harringtonsbowgirl @my-name-is-baby @rrosiitas @davinashifts333@cinnamqnnlatte @fastlovela @stelleduarte @fastlovela @deeninadream @moond0llie @dylsdaily 

[screaminglygay]

New way back

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader, past!natasha romanoff x reader, wanda maximoff x reader

summary: after the tension becomes too much, you and natasha break up, leaving behind feelings neither of you can shake. you leave S.H.I.E.L.D. to start over, while natasha finds her place with the avengers. when the maximoff twins join, fate leads you to wanda in a quiet bookstore and what begins as something small slowly grows into something real. but the past never stays buried for long.

warnings: cursing, swearing, emotional angst, past relationship tension, natasha struggling with unresolved feelings, mild miscommunication, lingering heartbreak, slow healing

word count: 10k

an: i just want to say thank you - truly. I’m so happy people are enjoying this story, and your support means more than I can say. It’s been such a joy to write, and I appreciate every single comment<3

part one I part two I part three

It´s the end of the week, so of course there is another party going on. S.H.I.E.L.D. was worse than some collage campus. The music thumped through the walls, the steady bass vibrating through the floor as laughter and chatter filled the air. It was supposed to be a good night, an easy night. A chance to let go, to be close, to have fun together. But it wasn’t. Not for you.

Not when Natasha was across the room, leaning into Maria Hill, smirking at whatever she was whispering in her ear. Not when every little touch, every lingering glance, every laugh felt like it wasn’t meant for you anymore.

You had put up with a lot. You had swallowed the jealousy, reminded yourself that you trusted her, told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That she just wanted to be liked. That she was figuring things out.

But this?

This was your final straw.

You had waited for your moment, watching the way Maria touched her wrist, the way Natasha let her fingers trail down the length of her arm, the way she didn’t pull away.

But when your song came on… the one she used to pull you into her arms for without hesitation, you thought this would be the moment she remembered. The moment she’d look at you, smile, and tug you close like she always did.

You weaved through the crowd, heart pounding, gripping her wrist gently. "Nat! It’s our song!"

She turned her head, the hint of an annoyed expression flitting across her face before she smirked and turned back to Maria, rolling her eyes.

"See what I have to struggle with?" she said with a laugh, making sure Maria could hear.

You froze.

Maria giggled, nudging Natasha’s shoulder, clearly entertained. And that was it. That was all it took for your heart to crack, for everything inside you to shatter into something raw and unbearable. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to cry in front of her. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

So you left. You pushed through the bodies, ignored the heat burning behind your eyes, ignored the way your hands shook, ignored everything until you made it up to the rooftop, where the cold air hit your skin like a slap.

It didn’t stop the tears from falling.

You curled your arms around yourself, shoulders shaking, and let them come. The sobs, the heartbreak, the frustration, the helplessness - everything you had been holding in, everything you had tried to push down.

You didn’t even hear her footsteps until she was there, standing in the doorway.

"There you are," Natasha said, as if this was normal. As if this was okay. "Maria’s about to play beer pong… figured you’d wanna watch."

You scoffed, wiping at your face, not bothering to hide how wrecked you looked. "Are you serious?"

Natasha frowned, stepping closer, "what-"

"I can’t do this anymore," you said, voice trembling, raw with emotion.

Natasha stilled, "baby-"

"No," you cut her off, shaking your head. "Don’t ‘baby’ me right now, Natasha. I’m done."

Her face fell, "wait-"

"You ignored me all night," you choked out, "for her. For them. I know you want people to like you. I get that. But when did I stop being enough?" The words were barely above a whisper, but they cut deeper than anything else.

Natasha’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. And in that silence, in that moment of hesitation, you saw it. You saw the way she didn’t have an answer. And that hurt more than anything.

You inhaled sharply, exhaling a broken laugh. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

You turned to leave, but her hand caught your wrist. "Wait," she whispered, voice barely audible.

You looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the fear, the desperation, the way she looked like she was about to lose something she had never thought she’d have.

But it was too late. You gently pulled your arm away. "I love you, Natasha," you said, voice cracking. "But I can’t keep trying to make this work when it’s only tearing me apart inside."

And with that, you walked away, leaving her standing there, alone. Lonelier than she had ever been.

The days after the break-up were long and filled with an aching emptiness that Natasha tried her best to ignore. She plastered a cool girl exterior over everything, pretending that the world was just as it had always been - full of admirers and fleeting smiles. She didn’t want anyone to see how much it hurt, how much she regretted everything. Natasha had a reputation to uphold, and she would be damned if she let anyone see her broken.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t stand to be around it anymore. The flirting, the constant validation she was chasing from everyone but you, it left a bitter taste in your mouth. The thing was, you love her - loved her for who she was, not the show she put on for everyone else. But you were done. You needed to get away. For your own peace, for your own sanity.

You packed your things quietly, knowing that it would be difficult to leave behind the life you had built at S.H.I.E.L.D. But in the end, you realized that you couldn’t continue to fight for something that wasn’t meant to be. So, you made the decision. You were done. Standing in front of Fury’s desk was something that made your heart beat a little faster, but right now? You were calm. Completly.

"You’re one of the best scoring agent we have," Fury said, eyes narrowed, his voice firm. "You can’t just leave, (Y/L/N)"

His words cut through the air like a warning, but you already knew what you had to do. "I have to, sir." You said, your voice calm, but my heart heavy. "I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing this. It’s not good to mix personal life with work. You’ve said it yourself."

Fury’s gaze softened for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by the usual steely professionalism. He knew. He could see it. But he wouldn’t make it easy for you.

"You’re a damn good agent, (Y/L/N),” he muttered, almost to himself. "The door will be always open for you. Just so you know. Good luck,” he said quietly, his eyes giving you a nod of respect and with a shake of his hand you said your last goodbye.

You didn’t know what would come next. All you knew was that it was time to move on, to find peace somewhere else. And as you walked out of S.H.I.E.L.D.´s walls for the last time, you couldn’t help but wonder if Natasha would ever realize how much it hurt you. And how much you loved her for being her. For being your Natasha.

…

Time had a funny way of softening old wounds. Leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. had felt like cutting off a part of yourself at first, but in the end, it was the best thing you ever did. You found something new, something that didn’t revolve around stealth, danger, or constantly feeling like you had to fight for your place.

Now, you worked as a personal trainer at a gym in the city. It was a different kind of discipline - pushing people to be their best, celebrating their progress, watching them grow stronger. It felt good, fulfilling in a way you hadn’t expected. Your apartment was nice, filled with books and small comforts that made it feel like home. Life was steady. Life was good.

And then you met her.

It happened in the most unexpected, mundane way at a bookstore. You had been eyeing a deluxe edition of this book ferever, fingers just about to close around it when another hand reached for the same copy.

"Oh," you blinked, turning your head to find a pair of deep green eyes looking back at you. The woman in front of you smiled, a little sheepish but undeniably charming.

"Guess we have good taste," she said, her accent lilting around the words. You can´t place it, but it sounds Slavic-ish?

You let out a small laugh, your hand hesitating on the book. "Seems like it."

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could tell she wanted it, but she wasn’t being pushy about it. Just waiting. "You should take it," you said finally, stepping back.

Her brows lifted, "are you sure?"

You nodded, "yeah. I’ll find it another time."

Wanda glanced between you and the book, then back to you again, as if debating something. And then, with a small smirk, she tilted her head. "Well… if you’re letting me have the book, can I at least buy you a coffee?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the offer, but there was something so warm in the way she said it. Genuine.

You smiled, "you don’t have to do that."

"I know," she shrugged, "but I’d like to."

And somehow, fifteen minutes later, you were sitting in a cozy little café, two cups of coffee between you, lost in conversation about books, stories, and the kind of worlds that made reality feel a little more magical. She was smart, funny, and had this way of looking at you like she actually listens everything you were saying.

"So, you’re new to the city?" you asked, fingers curled around your coffee cup as you watched Wanda stir hers absentmindedly.

She nodded, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I just moved here with my brother, Pietro… for work."

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your drink. "Work, huh? Sounds mysterious."

Wanda chuckled, shaking her head. "Nothing too exciting. At least, not yet." There’s a flicker of something behind her eyes, but it’s gone before you could place it. Instead, she leaned forward slightly. "What about you? Have you always lived in New York?"

You shook your head, "not always, but I’ve been here for a while. Long enough to call it home."

"Then I guess I should be asking you for tips," she chuckled.

You grinned, "well, first tip... don’t let the city chew you up and spit you out."

She smirked, "that’s very reassuring."

"I mean it in a good way," you laughed. "New York has this… way of testing you, but if you find your rhythm, it can be amazing. I hope you end up liking it here."

Wanda tilted her head, considering your words, "I think I already do."

There’s something in the way she said it, a certain softness to her voice that made your stomach flip, but before you could dwell on it, she asked, "what do you do for work?"

"I’m a personal trainer," you replied, and when Wanda’s eyes widened slightly, you added, "yeah, I know. Not what you were expecting?"

She shakeed her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "No, I just… I guess I didn’t think about it. But it makes sense."

You arched a brow. "Oh? And what exactly makes sense about it?"

She took a slow sip of her coffee, like she´s considering how to answer. Then, she gestured vaguely toward you. "I don’t know, you just… have this way of carrying yourself. Strong, confident." She paused, her smile turning a little teasing. "And you did let me have the book, so clearly, you’re generous, too."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Generosity has nothing to do with it. I just didn’t want to wrestle someone in the middle of a bookstore."

"That’s a shame," Wanda mused. "I think I’d have put up a good fight."

You chuckled, shaking your head at her. The conversation flowed so easily, like you’ve known her longer than just a handful of minutes.

It was… nice. Comfortable. And as Wanda watched you over the rim of her cup, eyes bright with amusement, you realized that - maybe - this little coffee date was exactly what you needed.

"You have an accent," you remarked, tilting your head curiously. "Where are you from, if you don´t mind me asking?"

Wanda put her coffee cup down and smiled softly, "Sokovia."

Your expression faltered for just a second. Sokovia. You know that name. You’ve heard it on the news, read about it online. The devastation, the aftermath… the way an entire country became a cautionary tale in the wake of destruction. You weren’t there, you didn’t live through it, but you remember seeing the images, the headlines.

"Oh… I’m sorry about that," you said gently, unsure if there’s a right way to address something like that.

Wanda hesitated, something flickering in her eyes before she shakes her head. "It’s okay," she said, voice quiet. "I just… I kind of realized over the years that home is wherever my brother is."

You took a slow breath, nodding, knowing how it feels to follow your brother everywhere. "Yeah. I get that."

For a moment, the two of you sat there, the weight of the conversation settling in the space between you. Then, Wanda offered a small, reassuring smile. "So, what about you?" she asked, shifting the topic slightly. "Do you have family around?"

You hesitated, the question stirring up a mix of emotions, but you just gave her a small shrug. "Not really. But I’ve built something for myself here. I like it."

Wanda studied you for a moment before nodding. "That’s very nice."

You held her gaze for a second longer before clearing your throat and offering a small smile. "Guess we both kind of found a new start, huh?"

Wanda chuckled softly. "Yeah. Seems that way."

And just like that, the conversation shifted again back to lighter things, to book recommendations and the best coffee spots in the city. But there was an unspoken understanding lingering between you, something that made the moment feel… easy. Like maybe you’ve stumbled across someone who understood you more than you´ve expected.

…

Over the years, you weren’t the only one who had worked on yourself. Natasha had, too.

At this point in her life, she had changed in ways you never could have imagined back then. She had gone to therapy - really gone, not just brushed it off. She had done the work, faced the wounds she used to cover with charm and distraction, and slowly, she had started healing. She learned how to be still with herself, how to sit with her emotions instead of burying them under layers of flirtation and detachment. She explored who she wanted to be, who she considered family. And the Avengers? They became that for her.

Now, Natasha was sure of herself, grounded in a way she never used to be. She had grown into the strong, steady woman the world now knew as The Black Widow… not just a name, not just a title, but a person who had fought for the right to be something more than a weapon.

And after Sokovia, she and Wanda had become casual friends. Not inseparable, not the closest of confidants, but they got along well. They worked together, trained together, laughed together when the moment allowed it. She tried to welcome Wanda and her brother, Pietro, as people and not as addition to the team. Because she knows what it feels like to be seen as a thing and not as a person.

Natasha had spent years learning how to be human. And now, she was.

So Natasha had taken it upon herself to make sure the Maximoff twins had everything they needed. It wasn’t an obligation, no one had asked her to do it. But she knew what it was like to be thrown into a new life, into a new world, and expected to just… figure it out.

So she made sure they had a place in the team, that they knew they weren’t just there because they were useful but because they belonged. She checked in, made sure they were settling in, reminded them that despite the chaos of the city, they had a home here. But she also knew better than to hover. Letting the twins find their own way was just as important as guiding them, so she stepped back. Pietro, of course, took to New York like he had been born for it. He was reckless, fast, endlessly amused by the sheer energy of the city. He explored every corner, tested every limit, and never seemed to stay in one place for long.

Wanda, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She enjoyed her time alone, quietly taking in this new life instead of running headfirst into it. And Natasha respected that. She gave Wanda the space to breathe, to process, to figure things out in her own way.

And Wanda did figure it out.

With you.

Which was ironic, really.

Neither of you knew it yet, but while Natasha had been stepping back to let Wanda find her own path, that path had quietly led to you. And it wasn’t like Wanda had meant to keep being it a secret, she just hadn’t mentioned it. She wasn’t the type to spill her personal life into casual conversation, and it wasn’t like she and Natasha were close enough to share those kinds of things. They worked together, laughed on occasion, but there was no deep, personal friendship that would lead to late-night confessions over a bottle of whiskey.

So she never told Natasha she was seeing someone.

And Natasha never thought to ask.

…

Getting to know Wanda was like unwrapping a gift. Slow, careful, peeling back layers one at a time. She wasn’t closed off, not really, but she was careful. Thoughtful. Like she was still figuring herself out, still deciding what pieces of herself she was ready to share. You didn’t mind.

You liked learning about her, bit by bit. The way she always hummed under her breath when she was reading, the way she tilted her head when she was listening, the way her accent softened when she got comfortable. The way she fidget with her silver rings. The way she smiled at every single puppy you saw on your walks.

She was learning about you too. Maybe in a more direct way than you realized.

Because sometimes, when you sat together, Wanda could hear the static hum of your thoughts. It wasn’t on purpose, she was still learning to control her powers, still figuring out the line between listening and intruding. And it wasn’t all the time. But when your thoughts got loud, when your overthinking started to spiral, she could feel it, like a quiet buzz in the back of her mind.

She never said anything about it. Never wanted to admit that she knew when you were doubting yourself, when you were wondering if she actually liked you, if this thing that´s going on between you was real.

But she knew. And she hated that she knew.

Because she liked you. A lot. And she wanted to tell you the truth about everything before it got too far, before you found out some other way. So, after a few dates, she finally sat you down.

"I need to tell you something," she said, chewing on her lip as she watched your expression carefully.

"Okay?" you said, setting your drink down, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

"My brother and I…"she took a deep breath. "We’re Avengers."

There was a beat of silence.

You blinked.

And then, like a switch flipping, your expression shifted into pure surprise. "Oh."

"I wanted to tell you sooner, I just-" Wanda hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly against the table. "I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay just because of-"

"Wait, so you’re-" You shook your head, trying to process it all. "That’s… wow."

She stared at you, waiting for something, maybe for you to leave, maybe for you to say it was too much.

But then you laughed.

And it startled her, because that was the last reaction she expected, "what?" Wanda asked, still tense.

You leaned back, shaking your head in amusement. "That’s funny, because I used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

Now it was Wanda’s turn to blink. "…what?"

"I worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. for years," you admitted with a small grin. "It’s actually how I know about everything that happened with Sokovia. I try to keep up with all that stuff."

For a second, Wanda just stared.

And then, to your relief, she laughed too. "This whole time," she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. "We’ve been dancing around this, and you-"

"… are an Avenger," you finished for her, still smiling.

Wanda sighed, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. "Well, in that case… does that mean you’ll come as my plus-one to the housewarming party next week, it´s this silly, but maybe you would like to?"

You pretended to think about it, then grinned. "Yeah. I will."

The conversation flowed naturally, like it always did with Wanda. After the initial shock of her being an Avenger had settled, you found yourself telling her about your time in S.H.I.E.L.D. - how it started, when you left, and everything in between.

Wanda listened intently, her eyes soft and thoughtful. "You must’ve been good," she murmured, "if Fury was upset about you leaving."

You scoffed. "I was one of the best. Not to brag, but I have the scores to prove it."

She smiled at that, but there was something deeper behind it, "and… do you miss it?"

You thought about it for a second, then shook your head. "Not really. I liked the work, but not the way it messed with my life. Leaving was the right choice."

Wanda nodded, even though she doesn´t know the whole truth behind your words.

Then, after a quiet pause, she finally opened up about her own reasons for joining the Avengers. "I didn’t really have a choice," she admitted. "After Sokovia… after losing my parents, then Pietro and I being used the way we were… I didn’t have anywhere else to go. And Steve, he made me feel like I could be something more. Like I wasn’t just a weapon."

You softened at her words, hearing about the good heart of The Steve Rogers once again. "You’re not."

She met your gaze, something unspoken passing between you before she cleared her throat. "My powers," she started, glancing down at her hands, "they were an accident. Something done to me, not something I was born with. And I’m still learning to control them."

You tilted your head, interested in Wanda´s powers. "What exactly can you do?"

She smirked slightly. "You really want to know?"

You nodded.

"Well…" Wanda lifted a hand, the tips of her fingers glowing a deep, soft red. "I can move things without touching them."

As if to prove her point, the grass nearby shifted slightly, and before you could react, a few wildflowers lifted from the ground, floating up in the air. Your eyes widened as they twirled and swayed as if carried by a gentle breeze, slowly weaving together into a perfectly arranged bouquet.

Your mouth parted slightly.

Then, Wanda held it out to you. "For you."

You took it carefully, eyes still locked onto her, blush slightly creeping on your face.

"That’s… wow," you shook your head in disbelief, then looked back up at her as you hear her voice in your head.

"Plus this," she smiled at you.

"Mind thing, huh?" you said out loud with a small smirk.

Wanda smiled, a little amused by your reaction. “Uh-huh.”

You exhaled dramatically. "Oh, that’s just great. Now I have to worry about you knowing all my embarrassing thoughts?"

She laughed, a soft and happy sound. "I don’t listen on purpose. But sometimes I can… feel things."

Your cheeks warmed at the thought. "Like what?"

Wanda tilted her head, watching you closely, "like right now… I can feel how much you like me."

You immediately looked away, face heating up even more. "Oh my God."

Wanda giggled. "It’s cute."

You groaned into your hands. "I hate this."

"No, you don’t." She reached forward, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

And when you looked up at her, you knew what was about to happen before it even did. She was close, closer than before, her green eyes locked onto yours, her fingers still curled around your wrists. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you didn’t move away. You didn’t want to.

And when she leaned in, you met her halfway. The kiss was soft, warm, and everything you didn’t realize you’d been waiting for. The only thing you had in your head was pure gay panic, tiny little voice that was making so much noise in your head.

When she pulled away, she was smiling, hearing everything your mind is yelling. "See? I knew you liked me."

You sighed, shaking your head fondly, "shut up and kiss me again."

And she did.

...

The transition from casual dates to something more had been seamless, like the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t a question of if but when, and at some point, it just was. Maybe it was the way Wanda always reached for your hand, or the way you leaned into her touch instinctively. Maybe it was the way she started leaving a spare sweatshirt at your place, or the way she curled into your arms on the couch without hesitation.

Whatever it was, it led to this moment.

One evening, after a long day, you were both curled up on your couch, your legs tangled together as you scrolled through a movie selection. Wanda was playing with your fingers absentmindedly, her head resting against your shoulder.

Then, she spoke. "So… are we, like, together?"

You blinked, turning to look at her.

She was smirking, though there was a softness in her eyes. "Because I kinda assumed we were, but you haven’t actually asked me to be your girlfriend yet."

You huffed a laugh, nudging her playfully, "oh, I haven’t, huh?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

You pretended to think, "well… Wanda Maximoff, will you be my girlfriend?"

She grinned, shifting to straddle your lap. "Hmm… I don’t know. I might need a little convincing."

"Oh, is that so?" You laughed, wrapping your arms around her waist.

She hummed in response, her face inching closer to yours, "mmhm.” And then she kissed you. That was all the convincing she needed.

…

You were focused on stirring the pasta sauce, listening as Wanda absentmindedly chatted from her spot at the kitchen counter, flipping through a book. "Oh, I was talking to Natasha the other day," she said casually. "She was overseeing some training sessions."

Your stirring slowed.

You knew, of course, that Natasha was an Avenger now - one of the Avengers. And you also knew that Wanda was part of the team, which meant…

Your stomach flipped.

"Wait," you said, turning to her. "She’s- she’s going to be at the party, isn’t she?"

Wanda looked up, confused at the shift in your tone. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

You hesitated, exhaling sharply. Well. Now was as good a time as any.

Setting the spoon down, you leaned against the counter. "Okay, so… I should probably tell you something."

Wanda closed the book, giving you her full attention. "Alright." She tried her best not to read your mind, not because she would like to get into your privacy, but because she still has some issues with keeping her powers controlled, especially when her nerves were on the surface.

You met her gaze, feeling surprisingly nervous. "Before I left S.H.I.E.L.D… I was in a relationship with Natasha."

Her eyes widened slightly, "oh."

You watched her carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, but she just seemed… curious. "It wasn’t a nasty breakup or anything," you continued. "It just- we weren´t meant to be. And then I left. Haven’t seen her since."

Wanda nodded slowly, absorbing the information, "not a nasty breakup..." she nodded, "and you’re telling me this because…?"

"Because I don’t want there to be any weird surprises at the party," you admitted. "And because I want to be upfront with you. I’m over her, Wanda. Completely. And I’m happy. With you."

That got you a smile from her. Wanda leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the counter. "You are?"

"I really am," you stepped closer, your hands settling on her waist. She studied your face for a moment before nodding, "okay."

You blinked, "okay?"

She smiled, "yeah. You told me. You didn’t have to, but you did. I appreciate that."

Your shoulders relaxed. "You’re… not like weirded out?"

She shook her head, "not at all. Natasha’s great, but if you say you’re over her, I believe you."

A smirk tugged at your lips, "you’re very reasonable, you know that?"

"Well, one of us has to be," she chuckled.

You laughed, nudging her playfully before leaning in to kiss her - slow and sweet. When you pulled back, your foreheads rested together.

"Healthy communication," you teased. "Look at us."

She hummed in amusement. "Aren’t we just the best couple ever?"

You grinned, pressing another quick kiss to her lips. "Yeah, I think we might be."

As you and Wanda settled at the table, plates full of pasta steaming in front of you, the conversation naturally flowed into talk about the team. "So, Pietro has been non-stop asking about you," Wanda said, twirling some spaghetti around her fork. "I think he’s more excited to meet you than he was about getting his new suit."

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink, "oh yeah?"

She nodded, "he keeps saying things like, ‘Wanda, is she cool? Does she have cool stories? Does she like fast people?’"

You laughed at the imitation, "wonderful." You chuckled and then add. "It's a pity I didn't get to meet Pietro last week. I was kinda looking forward to it."

Wanda smirked, resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, trust me, no need to be sad about it. You're gonna get more than enough of him at the party. He’s… a lot in social settings."

You chuckled. "That sounds like a warning."

"It is a warning," she teased. "But you’ll like him, I promise. And he’ll like you. Maybe too much."

You raised an eyebrow at her. "Too much?"

Wanda sighed dramatically. "I just know he's going to claim you as his new best friend the second you two hit it off. And then I’ll never hear the end of it."

You laughed, "well, I guess I'll have to prepare myself."

She smiled and took a bite of her food. After a moment, she added, "oh, and I’m also really excited for you to meet Steve."

You tilted your head. "Steve Rogers?"

She nodded, eyes lighting up a little, "yeah, he's great. A really good person, but not just in the ‘super soldier hero’ way. He’s thoughtful, kind, and actually listens when you talk. I think you’d really like him."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Wanda… are you trying to set me up with him?"

Her eyes widened slightly before she scoffed, reaching over to playfully shove your arm

You laughed, shaking your head. "Hate to break it to you, but I´m already dating someone."

She smirked, leaning in a little. "Oh, you are?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was nothing but fondness in your voice as you said, "mhmm."

…

Time flies like crazy and the day of the not so little Avenger party is here. The moment you stepped into the massive tower, because, of course, Tony Stark had to have the biggest damn building in New York, you felt a strange wave of nostalgia hit you. The sleek hallways, the subtle hum of high-tech security, the faintly familiar scent of polished floors and expensive equipment… It wasn’t S.H.I.E.L.D., not exactly, but it was close enough to stir something in your chest. You barely had time to process it before-

Whoosh!

A gust of wind rushed past you, and suddenly, there was an arm slung around your shoulders. "Well, well, well- so you must be THE (Y/N)," a voice said, dripping with amusement.

You blinked, barely registering the blur of silver hair before Pietro Maximoff grinned down at you like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment.

Before you could react, he pulled you into a tight hug, patting your back with way too much enthusiasm. "I’ve heard so much about you! You know, I was starting to think you were just a figment of Wanda’s imagination. But no- you’re real, and I gotta say, you’ve already got bonus points for dealing with her this long."

You snorted, glancing at Wanda, who was watching the interaction with a knowing smirk. "You did warn me," you muttered.

"Told you," she teased, crossing her arms.

Pietro pulled back, grinning as he sized you up. "Alright, first impressions… solid. You seem cool, and I have excellent judgment, so congratulations."

"Oh, thank you for your approval," you said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. "Wow. I come in here, welcome you with open arms, and this is how you treat me? No respect."

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Okay, okay. You’re alright too, Maximoff."

He gasped dramatically. "Just alright? Wanda, your girlfriend wounds me."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I told you she’d handle you just fine."

You shook your head with a grin. "Oh, I think we’re gonna get along just fine, too."

Pietro beamed. "Good. Because you’re stuck with me now. Want anything to drink? Wanda?"

You nodded, and in the blink of an eye - whoosh! - Pietro is back, handing you a fruity drink with a cocky little smirk.

"For you," he announced, before handing Wanda an almost too full glass of wine.

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"What? You like wine," he shruged, then lifts his own drink, a high-percentage beer that looked strong enough to knock out a normal person.

You took a sip of your drink, then glanced at Pietro. "Wait… How did you even know what I’d like?"

Pietro grinned, leaning on the counter. "Wanda talks a lot about you."

Wanda scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Not that much."

Pietro turned to you, "that much."

You chuckled, watching as Wanda simply sips her wine, pretending not to hear him.

Without missing a beat, she clarified, "Before you ask, no, I didn’t read your mind. I just know you."

"Uh-huh," you hummed, amused.

"And before you wonder why I’m not even tipsy," Pietro added, motioning to his drink, "Wanda and I have a very high alcohol tolerance. I have a ridiculously high tolerance, which means I can’t get drunk. Believe me, I’ve tried."

You nodded with a laugh. "That does sound like something you’d test."

He grinned, raising his glass. "So, on best friends’ cheers?"

You clinked your glass against his. "Best friends’ cheers."

Wanda shaked her head but smiles as she joined in, her glass meeting both of yours. "You two are ridiculous."

"You love us," Pietro teased.

Wanda sighed, but there’s nothing but fondness in her eyes. "Unfortunately, I do."

After some time, as you and Pietro continued talking and joking around, Wanda gently tugged at your hand. "Come on," she murmured with a soft smile. "There’s someone I want you to meet."

Pietro smirked knowingly. "Oh, the introduction. Have fun!"

Wanda rolled her eyes at him before leading you through the lively party, weaving past conversations and laughter until you reached a quieter corner. And then, standing there, just as effortlessly composed as you’d expect - was Steve Rogers himself.

"Steve," Wanda greeted warmly.

Steve turned, his expression immediately softening at the sight of her.

"Hey, Wanda." Then, his gaze shifted to you, and he extended his hand. "You must be (Y/N)."

You shook his hand firmly, surprised by how gentle yet strong his grip was. "That’s me."

He smiled, and it was so genuine, so kind, that you fully understand what Wanda meant when she said he was more than just a good guy. He was The Good Guy.

"I’m really glad to finally meet you," Steve said sincerely. "Wanda talks about you a lot."

You chuckled, throwing a glance at your girlfriend. "So I’ve heard." Wanda simply shrug, an innocent smile on her lips.

Steve nodded approvingly. "It’s good to see her with someone who makes this place feel a little more like home."

Something about the way he said it tugs at your heart. He was not just happy for Wanda, he understood what it’s like to find comfort in people rather than places.

"It’s a work in progress," you sid, smiling. "But I’d like to think I’m doing an okay job."

"You are," Wanda assured you, squeezing your hand gently.

Steve watched the small gesture with warmth in his eyes before he tilts his head. "You know, I heard you used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

You nodded. "Yeah. Spent some time in training and fieldwork before… well, before everything changed."

He huffed a knowing breath. "Tell me about it."

From there, the conversation easily shifted into talking about training, about the different approaches to working with new recruits. It turned out Steve already knew a bit about you, at least in a professional sense.

"I remember hearing about your training techniques," he admited. "You had a reputation for being tough but fair."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? And what do you prefer when it comes to training?"

Steve smiled. "I like to focus on discipline, but I think adaptability is key. The best fighters aren’t just strong, they know how to adjust in the moment."

You nodded in agreement. "Exactly. It’s not just about how fast you hit, it’s about how well you think on your feet."

Steve grinned. "I think I’d like sparring with you sometime."

Wanda, who have been quietly watching the entire exchange, chuckled. "Oh no. You’re going to start geeking out over training, aren’t you?"

You and Steve exchanged a knowing look before you smirked. "No promises." She sighed dramatically but squeezed your hand.

Steve tilted his head slightly. "I also heard that you were the second best on S.H.I.E.L.D.´s dead test."

You blinked in surprise. "Oh, uh… yeah."

Wanda's eyes widen. "Wait, what? You never told me that!"

You shrug, a little sheepish, "eh, nothing special."

Steve chuckled. "Being humble is also a good quality in an agent."

"I wasn’t the first, though," you added with a small smirk.

Steve exhaled, shaking his head in amusement. "Hard to beat the one and only Widow."

You nodded, "yeah, well… no one really compares to Natasha when it comes to that stuff."

Wanda tilted her head at you, studying your expression as she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. You squeezed back instinctively, appreciating the silent support.

"So, she’s still into being the best at everything, huh?" you mused, an edge of familiarity in your tone.

Steve nodded. "Always. No break, just work, basically."

You let out a small chuckle, unsurprised. It was just so Natasha. But before your mind could wander too much, Wanda gently tugged at your hand again, bringing you back to the present.

"Well, you are incredibly impressive too," she murmured, nudging you playfully.

Steve grinned at the exchange but didn´t press further. He didn´t know about your history with Natasha and right now, you kind of prefer it that way.

Wanda, with her impossibly fast metabolism, had spent the last ten minutes determinedly drowning her drinks in an attempt to feel something. It was honestly kind of hilarious. She was pouting slightly, swirling the empty glass in her hand like it had personally betrayed her.

You chuckled, shaking your head, "I’ll get you another one."

She grinned, "make it strong, please."

With a teasing eye roll, you made your way to the bar. It was quieter here, dimly lit, the hum of conversations a little more subdued. You leaned against the counter, waiting for the bartender, when a familiar presence caught your attention from a few seats down.

Natasha.

She wasn’t looking at you at first, but when she finally did, it was like time slowed for a second. Her green eyes flickered with something unreadable… shock, recognition, something deeper beneath the surface.

Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, you gave her a polite smile, a quick nod, and looked down, suddenly aware of how your fingers fidgeted against the counter. You weren’t sure if it was nerves or just… old habits creeping in.

But Natasha? She was blindsided.

You were here. In this tower. At this party. And you looked good. The kind of good that made her itch to close the distance, to ask why you were here, how you’d been, what you’d been up to. She wanted to tell you, needed to tell you, that she wasn’t the same person anymore. That she’d changed. That the reckless, emotionally closed-off woman you had once been with was… healing. Better. That she was stable, secure, someone who could finally deserve you.

And God, she wondered, if she was different now, if she was better now…

Would there still be a chance for the two of you?

She was halfway through standing up, ready to cross that distance, when-

A pair of warm hands found your waist.

Wanda.

She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before grinning up at you, "what’s taking so long, detka?"

Then she saw Natasha.

And Natasha - cool, composed, always-in-control Natasha - just froze.

Her mask slipped in an instant. Gone was the untouchable Black Widow. Standing there was just… a heartbroken woman. A woman who had just realized, far too late, that she had lost you. Again.

Not wanting to drag this moment out into something heavier than it needed to be, you gave Natasha a small wave. It was meant to be casual, easy, like you were just two people at the same party, nothing more. Natasha hesitated for half a second before walking toward you, her steps measured. Her expression was carefully blank, but her eyes still held that flicker of something unreadable.

Before she could say anything, Wanda leaned in close to you and murmured, "do you want me to go? Give you two a moment?"

You shook your head without hesitation. "No, you can stay."

Natasha caught that.

She caught the way your voice was steady, how your hand lightly rested against Wanda’s waist like it was second nature. How there wasn’t even a sliver of uncertainty in your decision.

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment. "Hey, Natasha," you said, keeping your tone polite. "Before you ask, I´m here only as a plus one, I´m not coming back as an agent." There was no malice, no lingering tension - just a quiet honesty. Nat nodded slowly, her lips parting like she wanted to say something else, but before she could, you offered her a small smile. "You look good. I hope you’ve been doing well."

Something in her expression shifted, her fingers twitching at her side, but she only nodded again. "You too."

And just like that, you grabbed the drinks from the bar, handing Wanda hers before turning away with her, letting the moment dissolve behind you. As you and Wanda walked away from the bar, drinks in hand, she let out a small, amused breath. "Well… that went well," she murmured, nudging you lightly with her hip.

You hummed in response, taking a sip of your drink as you led her toward a quieter corner of the room where a few plush seats were set up, "yeah." You finally said, "could’ve been worse."

Wanda sat down beside you, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass. "She was staring at you the whole time."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I noticed."

"Should I be jealous?" she teased, tilting her head.

You turned to her with a smirk. "You planning on breaking up with me anytime soon?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Of course not."

"Then no," you said simply, reaching over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Wanda smiled at that, her shoulders relaxing a bit, "besides I think, that she was just shocked I´m here."

After a brief silence, she leaned into you, resting her head against your shoulder. "So," she started, dragging out the word. "Since we’re here, and since I have an actual S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to ask, was Fury really pain in the ass to work with?"

You huffed a quiet laugh. "Oh, you know. He´s a lot of rules, a lot of paperwork So… kinda."

Wanda laughed. "And what was the hardest part to do?"

"Oh defiently running," you nodded, being totally serious.

"Running?"

"Yeah, we weren’t all enhanced, you know," you joked, nudging her playfully. "Some of us had to train like normal people. Survival of the fittest and all that."

Wanda giggled. "And yet, you almost got the best score?"

"Almost," you corrected. "Big difference."

"Mm, I think you’re just being humble again," she teased, nudging your knee with hers.

You sighed dramatically. "It’s really hard to compete with a super-spy, Wanda."

"True, true," she mused. "We have that said super-spy over there, still staring at us."

You resisted the urge to look over your shoulder, instead bringing your drink to your lips. "Let her stare. She’ll get bored eventually."

Wanda hummed, then smirked. "You know, if you were still at S.H.I.E.L.D. and I was still new to the Avengers, I think they would’ve sent you to check me out."

"Check you out?" You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively.

She groaned, shoving your arm lightly. "You know what I mean! Like, making sure I wasn’t a threat."

You snickered. "I mean, technically, you were a threat back then."

"Exactly," she said proudly. "So? Would you have taken the mission?"

You pretended to think about it. "Hmm. On one hand, I’d be risking my life. On the other hand…" You glanced at her, letting your eyes flicker over her face. "I’d get to meet you."

Wanda’s cheeks darkened, and she shoved you again, but this time, her fingers lingered on your wrist. "Stop being sappy," she muttered.

"Never," you shot back, squeezing her hand. She shook her head, a fond smile on her lips. And as Natasha sat across the room, still watching, still quiet, you didn’t spare her another glance. Because in this moment, it was just you and Wanda.

As you and Wanda continued your conversation, reminiscing about S.H.I.E.L.D. days and sharing quiet laughs, a familiar voice cut through the air behind you.

"Well, well. That is a surprise."

Your head snapped up instantly, and a wide grin spread across your face. "Fury!"

Standing a few feet away, clad in his signature black coat and with the ever-present unimpressed look on his face, was Nick Fury himself. He crossed his arms, giving you a once-over before shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. Why does he always wears the coat? Even at a party?

"Relationships always mess with work," he mused, smirking just a little.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the couch, "I’m here with Wanda, Fury. I’m not coming back."

"That so?" He raised a brow. "Didn’t think you’d ever get tired of the action."

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. "It’s not for me anymore. I like my work, my mostly cleared schedules."

Fury let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, training people as a trainer. Real relax."

“You been checking up on my life?” Your eyes narrowed slightly.

Fury gave you that signature, unreadable look before answering, "my eye is everywhere."

You sighed, shaking your head with a small laugh, "of course it is."

Fury took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough to sound a little more serious, "if you ever decide to come back…"

You raised a brow, "you just said relationships mess with work, and now you want me to come back?"

Fury smirked again, tilting his head slightly, "if you change your mind, my number’s still the same."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing into the crowd like he always did, like a damn shadow.

As soon as he was out of sight, Wanda leaned in close, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a smirk. "Well…"

You turned your head slowly to give her a look, already knowing where she was going with this. "Don’t you dare start too, Wan."

She giggled, taking a sip of her wine, "I didn’t say anything!"

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, shaking your head, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

Wanda swirled the remnants of her drink in her glass. You, on the other hand, were starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol settle in. A light buzz in your head, a lazy grin pulling at your lips. Not drunk, but definitely tipsy.

"You okay?" Wanda asked, amused as she watched you lean into the back of the couch a little more than before.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting your glass down on the small table beside you. "Just… comfy."

Wanda chuckled, shaking her head. "Lightweight."

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "I’ll have you know, I used to drink with top agents. You don’t survive that without building some tolerance."

She gave you a skeptical look. "And yet, here you are. Tipsy."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "You just have freaky metabolism."

"Fair point," she admitted, taking another sip of her wine. "But still funny to watch."

You rolled your eyes but let the smile linger. Wanda glanced down at her glass, then back up at you, her expression softening slightly. "You know… Natasha was really good to me and Pietro when we got here."

That caught your attention, you blinked, turning to face her more fully. "Yeah?"

Wanda nodded, her gaze distant for a moment. "We didn’t trust anyone at first. And I mean anyone." She sighed. "We were… lost. Everything we had believed in, everything we fought for… it was all gone. And suddenly, we were supposed to trust these people we used to call enemies?" She let out a quiet laugh. "It was terrifying."

You stayed quiet, letting her continue.

"But Natasha… she was patient. She didn’t push, didn’t try to force us to talk. She just… made sure we were okay. Checked in. Gave us space, but always reminded us she was there." Wanda smiled faintly. "She was one of the first people who made me feel like I belonged here."

You tilted your head slightly, watching her as her words sank in. You had known Natasha in a very different light. You knew her sharp edges, her relentless drive, her constant need to be the best. But the way Wanda spoke about her… it was softer. Warmer.

Had she really changed that much?

Maybe more than a bit.

Wanda nudged you lightly, "you’re thinking really hard about something."

You blinked, shaking off the thoughts. "Just… surprised, I guess."

She studied you for a moment, then tilted her head with a knowing look. "You thought she’d always stay the same, didn’t you?"

You huffed a small laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Natasha never really needed to change. She was always so sure of herself, always knew exactly what she was doing. Yet… not really. It’s weird to think of her as…" You trailed off, searching for the right words.

"As someone who cares?" Wanda finished for you, a teasing glint in her eye.

You snorted. "She always cared. She was just really bad at showing it."

Wanda hummed in agreement. "Well, maybe she figured it out."

You let that thought settle in, absentmindedly tapping your fingers against your thigh, "I´m glad she was and still is there for you, I don´t want to make it weird between you two."

"(Y/N), we all are adults." Wanda poked your side.

You hummed, "true, but we all are surrounded by not so common work."

It´s not so shocking, that she changed and truly worked on herself. Natasha Romanoff wasn’t the same woman you once knew. It is totally normal, but Wanda´s words still suprised you.

As Wanda made her way through the crowd, saying goodnight to everyone, you took the opportunity to slip away toward the bar, deciding that a glass of water might help ease the tipsiness creeping up on you. The party was still lively, but the energy had settled, with some guests already leaving and others dissapearing into quiet conversations.

You leaned against the counter, running a hand through your hair as you waited for your drink. The cold water felt refreshing against your palm, and you took a slow sip, letting yourself breathe for a moment.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you noticed someone approaching. You didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was.

Natasha stood just a few steps away, hands casually tucked into the pockets of her black pants, but there was something careful about the way she carried herself, like she wasn’t sure if she should be standing there at all. "You’re drinking water at a party?"

"Trying to avoid a headache tomorrow," you replied, swirling the ice in your glass before finally glancing at Natasha.

She had one elbow resting on the bar, body angled toward you, her expression unreadable but undeniably curious. "That’s surprisingly responsible of you."

You huffed a small laugh, "I can be responsible."

Natasha smirked slightly, eyes flicking over you like she was trying to piece something together. "You always did like sneaking away from crowds."

You shrugged. "Old habits."

A silence settled between you for a few moments, not entirely awkward, but definitely not the effortless kind you used to have. It was Natasha who broke it first.

"I heard you are a personal trainer now," she said, tilting her head slightly.

You gave her a look, "first Fury and now you," you chuckled, "How do you know?"

She smiled just a little, "I have my ways."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t push it. "Yeah, I train. Mostly physical conditioning, self defence, a little tactics. Keeps me busy."

"And keeps you out of the field."

You exhaled slowly, nodding, "yeah. That part of my life is over."

Natasha studied you for a moment before nodding, almost to herself. "You seem… different."

That made you pause, "different how?"

She tilted her head, considering. "More at peace."

You weren’t sure what to say to that. Instead, you just smiled slightly. "Guess I’ve figured some things out."

Natasha held your gaze for a beat longer, and you could tell she wanted to say something else. But instead, she finally asked, "You and Wanda…?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

"For how long?"

"Some time now."

Natasha pressed her lips together, nodding slowly. "I see." She glanced away for a second before taking a breath. "I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry."

That made you pause.

"For what I did all those years ago," she continued, shifting slightly on her feet. "For how I hurt you. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I need you to know that I’m different now. I’ve worked on myself. I’m better." You studied her for a moment, then offered her a small, sincere smile.

"Thank you for the apology, Nat. It´s okay." You looked away for a second, sipping on your water. "By the way… I’m happy for you, Nat. Really. You deserve to feel stable and have a family like the Avengers. You´re really glowing here."

Her eyes softened, as if your words lifted something heavy off her shoulders. "Thanks," she said quietly.

You nodded, taking another sip of water. There was nothing left to be said, at least not tonight. But for the first time in a long time, things didn’t feel so heavy between you two, like the last time you saw her.

As soon as Wanda said all her goodbyes and then appeared beside you, her hand instinctively found yours, her fingers warm and familiar as they laced with yours. Natasha’s eyes flickered between the two of you before offering a small nod.

"We are heading for tonight, so see you tomorrow, Nat." Wanda said softly, her tone polite but firm.

You nodded as well. "Goodnight."

Natasha held your gaze for a second longer, something unreadable flashing in her expression before she gave a small smile. "Goodnight."

And with that, you and Wanda turned to leave, stepping out of the party and into the quiet night.

The walk back to your place was peaceful, the air crisp, the distant hum of the city filling the silence between you. By the time you stepped inside, exhaustion was starting to settle in, but Wanda’s teasing tone pulled you right back.

"I see you made sure to drink some water," she mused, nudging your side as she slipped off her coat.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smirk. "Didn’t feel like waking up miserable."

"Smart," Wanda hummed, already pulling you towards the bed.

It didn’t take long before the two of you were tangled up together, bodies fitting perfectly under the covers. Wanda’s fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, her breath warm against your neck.

"Hoped you enjoyed tonight," she murmured sleepily.

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing into her hold. "Yeah… I had fun. It was nice to come back."

Wanda smiled against your skin, her grip around you tightening just a little. She didn’t say anything else, but you knew what she was thinking.

You’d be calling Fury soon.

Because no matter how much you insisted that part of your life was over, you loved training people too much to stay away forever. It was still part of you, something that will stay with you till the day you´ll die.

The days following Tony’s party felt like a blur of normalcy, something rare and precious when you were dating an Avenger. Wanda’s schedule was unpredictable at best, but she always made sure to carve out time for the two of you, such as lazy mornings tangled in blankets, quiet dinners, and stolen moments between her missions.

And when you weren’t spending time with her, you were at the gym, running your own classes, guiding people through drills, and finding satisfaction in watching them improve.

It was a good balance.

Most of the time.

It became a habit - Wanda coming home and venting about work, about the team, about whatever new chaos had unfolded that day.

And lately, her frustrations had taken a familiar pattern.

"I swear, (Y/N), I watched a group of recruits today completely botch a simple counter maneuver. Like, a basic one. It was painful." Wanda groaned, draping herself dramatically over the couch while you stood in the kitchen, making some tea.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you poured the hot water into two mugs. "What was the mistake?"

"They left their center completely open. No weight shift, no counterbalance, just begging to be thrown to the ground."

You nearly choked on a laugh, "oh my god, that’s such a stupid mistake."

"Right?" Wanda sighed. "And Steve’s been trying to work on it, but it’s not really his style. They need someone who actually knows how to drill this stuff into their heads, not just super soldier who fought in war."

You didn’t catch it at first, the way she said it, casual but deliberate, planting the idea like a seed in your mind.

It wasn’t just a complaint. It was a suggestion.

But Wanda moved on quickly, sipping her tea as she changed the subject, and you didn’t think much of it.

Until it happened again. And again.

"Nat says the newer agents struggle with disarming techniques," Wanda mentioned over breakfast one morning, "it slows down their reaction time in the field."

You scoffed as you buttered your toast. "That’s basic survival. Why aren’t they drilling it more?"

"Exactly," Wanda said with a knowing look, but she didn’t push. She never did.

She just kept mentioning things. Little things. How S.H.I.E.L.D.´s training program was lacking. How the recruits weren’t getting the guidance they needed. How maybe, just maybe, someone with your experience could help. You weren’t sure when you started seriously considering it.

It was just… there. A thought in the back of your mind, lingering longer each time Wanda brought it up.

taglist: @starrycherie, @esposadejoyhuerta, @redroomgraduate

[orphicsun]

Bury Me At Makeout Creek (E.W)

content: short blurb, jackson ellie (cannon divergent), angst, grieving, slight mention of ellie's eating issues, mentions of joel's death.

(-)

From the tips of your teeth to the root of your hair, you’re linked together, sewn up like a Raggedy Ann. It’s nothing new, but you still pick apart yourself. You can’t help it. You’d think after years of looking at yourself through the motioned creek reflection, it’d be clear to you who you are as a person. 

Sitting upon the grass with your feet in the stream, it’s lost on you. You look up to the trees, but all you can see is the others. Jesse has a sense of humor you find comfort in, but the true safety is his tendency for responsibility and order. Dina not so much, but you love her anyway. She loves unconditionally, and you’ll always need that.

It isn’t just when they’re in your presence, but hours that go by all alone that you think of them. You can’t think of yourself; if you dwell too much on the cartilage distinguishing your nose, squint your eyes to make out the size of your pupils, you’ll feel your mind simply mix each feature together into an uncertain mix of paint-water grey. You’ll never separate anything from yourself again. 

“Thinking again?” Ellie will separate you, though. You give her eyes a small jolt at first, startled by her sudden approach next to you. 

You’ve grown used to her visits to this same creek, to you. It would make no sense weeks ago, but what good does sense make now? Just a mutual friend is Ellie, but the loss of Joel leaves her all odd to perception. She does things she normally wouldn’t do. 

You’re spooked like a horse and something within her wants to snicker, but the thought of letting loose anything but quiet conversation makes her stomach churn with nausea, an empty feeling when your stomach is so light already. 

You lay back against the grass, the back of your legs flush with wet sand. Ellie remains upright. “Do you ever think about what I look like?” You ask, mostly hushed and minorly curious. 

She scoffs, but you don’t flinch at the usually impolite sound. “I don’t care about that. Why would I care about any of that bullshit?” 

You think of Ellie’s words as so interesting to the ears to pick up on–always barking and loud in their content, but her volume is quiet. You’re one for feelings, so despite the lack of closeness between the two of you, all you’ve felt is a concern bubble deep inside. She hasn’t always been this quiet. 

You don’t know why Ellie talks to you all of a sudden. Simply writing it off as an oddity for grieving is easy, though. Still, you like to wonder. You’re always stuck in your thoughts, but that is another reason to question magnetism. You’re worryful, absorbed, sensitive. She has always been a false stoic, so maybe before the incident, you wouldn’t have questioned it. Now, she goes about Jackson as though she feels nothing, a shut-down vessel frozen from the moment he lost his breath. 

You shrug, though. “People care about looks. It means a lot to them.” 

“Do you?” 

You shake your head; she nods. “Right. Neither do I.” 

You want to let it go, but you can’t. You can’t stop yourself from pulling apart each piece of you, even if it’s a trifle in a world in which creatures would happily pull you apart for you. “I just wish I liked myself.” 

Ellie pulls miniscule blades of grass from the ground below the both of you. “You told me last week you don’t know yourself, though,” she murmurs quietly. “How can you dislike something you don’t understand?” 

That makes you want to laugh. She is here, quietly comforting you in your ridiculous, self-made problems, all the while grieving her father figure. The thought of your own previous words, your own initiation into this arbitrary conversation rings you silent. 

Ellie sighs. “C’mon, don’t do that. I don’t mind it, you know.” 

You know that, too. You’ve accidentally forced it past her lips–she doesn’t mind it. In fact, it distracts her from the bloody sights she would think of instead. You save her, even with the stupidity of your own issues. Still, guilt gnaws at you. 

“Can I at least hug you?” You break your silence with a quiet chirp. Touch is something you’re unsure of with Ellie. Should you, should you not? Sometimes when you touch, you can feel the stiffness in her body. You easily pull away and talk instead. Other times, she holds you tightly as if you’ll slip between her fingers like sand. 

This time, she nods and adjusts her posture. You rise and meet her welcoming arms halfway. Hugs with her are always nice. The general idea of a hug is awkward and distant, leaving you with doubt, but Ellie holds you rather than a mutual embrace. 

She mumbles something quiet and unintelligible against your shirt but you won’t ignore her, so you nod along. You can feel a few tears seep through the fabric and onto your skin, and you think you know Ellie well enough, but she is already pulling away and standing up to leave you again. 

It’s not that you don’t know her, though. It’s just the situation. That fact is comforting.

taglist: @femme-tobe, @sulliefimmie, @klallx, @elliescoochieeater, @mytaping, @pryncess123, @therealhexstrap, @piercedome, @violetszn, @saturnhas82moons, @myfabulousnesshasarrived, @sawaagyapong, @prettyinpink69, @usuck, @s7nburn, @hellokittyfeenie, @ssijht, @starberr1, @ruevu, @ruelezz, @littlefallenangel111, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie, @human-cacti, @tphmnv, @hotpinkskitties, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @elliesngirl, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @l0veylace, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs, @vixxxen, @aceywaycy, @abbysbutch, @evoscancelled, @x0x0xkimara, @aviixol want to be tagged? click here!

[canirove]

Pedri Imagine | two

Author's note: This is something kind of short I got inspired to write after seeing the pic of Pedri and Eric I'm using in the header, though in my head it was with someone else instead of a girl, and that version of this imagine will be going up later today 👀 Hope you like it, and thank you for reading! 💜

Little summary: Pedri and you have had a crush on each other for a while, but neither of you have been brave enough to ask the other out until…

Masterlist

“Look at her, bro. Isn't she like the most beautiful woman you've ever seen?”

“I guess.”

“You guess? C'mon, Pedri. Look at her. Look at that smile.”

“Eric, did you just sigh?” Pedri chuckles.

“How not to” he sighs again, his eyes fixed on Flick’s translator. 

She had only been working for the club for a few months, but basically everyone in the team had a crush on her. Pedri included. Though unlike everyone else, who had already tried to make a move on her, he had done nothing because he was too shy even if he felt there was some kind of connection between them. 

For example, every time she has caught him looking at her, instead of rolling her eyes and telling him to mind his business or focus on training like she does with the others, she smiles at him, making him feel funny things in his stomach. One time she even winked at him, catching him so by surprise that he tripped with the ball he was playing with and ended up on the floor, his teammates teasing him about his fall for a week. And while with them she gets all serious when they try to joke with her during training, usually telling them that she is there to work, with him it is completely different. Pretty often it is her the one joking with him or teasing him about something, both of them laughing together and having what he would call, a moment. 

So there definitely is something between, but what? He doesn't know.

“Do you think she would say yes to going out with me?”

“What?” Pedri says, trying to stop looking at the way she's biting her lip while reading some papers. He has noticed that she does it when she is focused on something, and he can't help but find it extremely sexy. More than once he's imagined how it would be to bite her lip while kissing her, which is something he should not be thinking about a coworker, but…

“If I ask her to go out on a date with me, do you think she will say yes?”

“She's made it very clear she isn't interested in any player, Eric. That she's here to work, nothing else.”

“I know. But just because she's said no to the others doesn't mean she will say it to me too, you know? Besides, what if she's just playing hard to catch?”

“Doesn't look like something she would do, to be honest.”

“And how do you know, uh? Are you bffs with her now?” Eric says with a teasing smile.

“No” Pedri replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you sure? Because I've seen you talking and laughing together, and you seem to get along quite well. Are you hiding something from us, Pedri?”

“Something like what?” he says, trying to act normal while praying for his cheeks to not turn bright red.

“I don't know. Maybe she ignores us all because she's interested in you. Because you two are seeing each other in secret.”

“Don't be stupid, Eric” Pedri laughs. “I don't like her and she doesn't like me. We are just friendly because we work together, and the relationship I have with her is the same I have with everyone from the staff.”

“If you say so…”

“Yes, I do. So stop imagining things.”

“Ok, ok…” he says. “But if there isn't anything going on between you two, then you won't mind if I go and ask her out, will you?”

“No, I won't” Pedri says. Though he does mind. Because if for some reason she says yes, they go out and things work out between them, seeing one of his best friends dating the girl he likes won't be easy. At all. 

“Then I'm gonna go shoot my shot. Wish me luck, bro” Eric says, getting up from the cooler where they both were sitting.

“Good luck” Pedri mutters while hating himself. Why can't he be as brave as Eric and be the one asking her out? Why does he have to be such a coward? Why… “Urgh” he groans, picking a ball to have something to focus on that isn't Eric and what he is about to do.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Is Flick's handwriting that bad?” 

“Uh?” I say, looking up from the papers I was reading.

“That” Eric says, pointing at them. “Did the gaffer write it?”

“I did.”

“Wait, you did? You can't understand your own writing?” he says, trying his best to not laugh.

“I can't, no” I sigh.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, well. Can I help you with something?”

“You definitely can” Eric smiles. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“I… yes. Why?”

“Well, a friend of mine just opened a new restaurant and he has been asking me to go pay him a visit, so I was wondering if you would like to come check it with me.”

“Eric, are you asking me to go on a date with you?” I say, arching an eyebrow.

“I am, yes.”

“Oh, wow” I laugh. “That was a very confident answer, you know? I've liked it. The others usually start mumbling when I ask them.”

“The others aren't me” he shrugs. “So, would you like to accompany me to my friend’s restaurant? We can first have a drink and then have dinner.”

“I…” I say, looking past him at where Pedri is. If only he was the one asking me out… 

Since I started working for Barcelona, basically everyone in the team has tried to make a move with me. Everyone but him, the one I have a connection with. The one I like and that sometimes makes me feel and especially behave like a teenager around her crush. Like when I tease him just to have his attention and make him laugh or smile. 

Because he's cute and hot all at the same time, nice, funny, hearing him talk with that Canarian accent of his makes me swoon, we get along quite well, are comfortable with and around each other… Though maybe not as comfortable as I think since he doesn't seem to care about Eric asking me out, something he definitely knows is happening because I saw them talking together and looking my way before he came. So maybe I should stop wasting my time waiting for him and just say yes to one of the other boys since he doesn't seem to care. Or be the one asking him out. We are in the 21st century, I don't have to wait for a man to do it. I can do it myself. I…

“You…” Eric says, bringing me back to the real world.

“Ok.”

“What?”

“I'll go on a date with you” I say, not quite believing the words that are leaving my mouth.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. We can meet tomorrow after training, first go have that drink and then dinner. Though you are driving, your car is nicer than mine.”

“Yes, of course! Great” he smiles. “Great! Tomorrow after training, then?”

“Tomorrow after training” I repeat, more to myself than him.

“Cool. Ok” Eric says, his smile even wider as he walks back to join the others. To join Pedri, who quickly looks away when he notices I am looking at him. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“God, Eric. Do you really need to wear so much perfume?”

“Of course I do. I must look my best for my date” he smiles.

“Smelling as if you've showered in perfume isn't looking your best.”

“If you are jealous just say it, Pedro” he smirks.

“I'm not jealous” Pedri replies, focusing on tying up his shoes. But he is. Of course he is jealous. 

To his surprise and everyone's in the changing room, she had said yes to going out with Eric. And judging by what he had been implying while telling the others about his date, he was planning on also ending the night with her. So if she had already said yes to going out with him, who says she would not also say yes to… to… 

“Enjoy your night” Pedri says, picking up his things to stop thinking about her and Eric together. “And don't be a dick. She doesn't deserve it.”

“I will behave, bro. I promise you” he says while putting on even more perfume, making Pedri roll his eyes before leaving the changing room. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Oh, shit!” I say after bumping into someone. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, don't worry. I… Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You look beautiful” Pedri says.

“Thank you” I reply, focusing on adjusting my dress to not look at him and at the way he is checking me out. Why did I have to cross paths with him on my way to meet with Eric? Why couldn't it be someone else? 

“Does wearing perfume give you a headache?”

“What?” I say, the oddity of his question making me look at him. Since it is Friday and they don't play until Sunday, he hasn't shaved yet and… God. He looks so good. Someone should keep all the razors away from him.

“I just left Eric back in the changing room showering himself in perfume. I'm pretty sure I can smell it on myself too” he chuckles. “So if it is something that bothers you…”

“I think I'll survive.”

“Oh. Ok. Then I… Umm…” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Enjoy your date. He's a great guy.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah… umm… Bye” he says, walking past me. 

“Pedri, wait.”

“Yes?” he says behind me.

“Eric… Eric is a great guy even if he showers himself in perfume, you are right. But he… he isn't you.”

“He… what?”

“I wish it was you the one taking me on a date tonight” I blurt out, still giving my back to him.

“What?”

“That I…” I say, taking a deep breath before turning around to look at him. “I wish it was you, Pedri. I wish I was going out on a date with you, not Eric. Because I…” like you. Those are the words I would have said if he hadn't suddenly closed the space between us and was kissing me, his hands cupping my face. Because he is kissing me. Pedri is kissing me and… “Did you just bite my lip?” 

“I… sorry” he says as his cheeks turn bright red and I try my best to not smile at the sight of them. Blushed Pedri, either during games or because of his shyness, is one of my favourite things in the world. “I just… I got carried away, I… I'm very sorry.”

“No, no, it's ok. But now I'm gonna have to bite you back” I smirk. “I've been thinking about doing it since the day I met you.”

“What?”

“You have very kissable and biteable lips, Pedri.”

“Oh… ummm… Glad to know we have something in common” he says, the tiniest of smirks showing on his face. “Because your lips also are very kissable and biteable, you know?”

“Kind of guessed it since you just kissed me and bite me” I chuckle. “But I think we have more things than that in common, you know?”

“We do?”

“Yep” I nod. “Fancy finding out about them all while having dinner?”

“Having dinner… as in a date?”

“Yes. A date. Another thing I have been wanting to do for a long time.”

“And another thing we have in common” he chuckles. “Though I haven't been as brave as you.”

“It doesn't matter who asked who. What matters is that it is happening. Shall we?” I say, putting some space between us and offering him my hand. 

“Let's go” Pedri smiles as he takes it. “But wait. What about Eric and your date with him?”

“I'll text him telling him that I'm not feeling well and I have to cancel, don't worry.”

“Ok… I just hope he doesn't get mad at me when he finds out the truth. He's one of my best friends.”

“I'm sure he won't" I say. "Because don't ask why... but I have the feeling everything is going to be alright.” 

And the thing is… that I wasn't wrong. Because as we would find out months later when we make it official that we are dating, there had been someone watching everything that had happened between me and Pedri on that corridor. Someone who had only asked me to go on a date with him hoping it would make Pedri and I stop being cowards and finally make a move. Someone who was smiling from ear to ear as he watched us hold hands and leave to go on our first date. 

Someone, who wasn't other than Eric.

[rabotimagines]

Okay so my brain has officially short circuited after reading your Jazz x Reader fic… So good…

May I request a prompt somewhat similar? Like a Decepticon reader who has been captured by the Autobots and puts their cute frame to use to flirt, canoodle… (maybe something more? 👀) their self out of their situation? Maybe with Bumblebee or Prowl? :3

I don't think either of them would go for it, but it would certainly be fun to sexually harass them a bit as a Con.

"Shameless" Gn BOT Reader x Bumblebee, Prowl [Smut Scenario]

Summary: Flirty con reader sexually harasses Bumblebee and Prowl.

G1 characters: Bumblebee, Prowl, (Ironhide has some little moments too.)

Genre/Theme: smut scenario 🔞

Warnings: Sexual harassment, Con Reader cranks it in the middle of the Autobot brig, Ironhide threatening reader at the start

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours, them, they, their

Notes: Shameless flirty con Reader, Readers playful and a bit of a slag starter, Reader calls Bumblebee "Honeybee", Made as a Part 2 of this in mind, Con Reader tries to goad Prowl into a hate frag

"Where's the artifact?" Ironhides hard unmoving expression met yours. His digit pads clenching your jaw so hard they risked imprinting their marks.

Your servos hovered over the electrified bars of the Autobot brig. Ironhides grip, forcing your faceplate almost right against them. You could feel the heat of the high voltage electricity ghosting along the metal of your face. But you still just worried your expression alongside your smile. Knowing sparkdamn well how mad Ironhide would get from just the little look alone. "Sorry, but I don't have a clue what my fellow cons decided to do with it. Maybe dial up ol' Megatron and ask if he's up to share?"

Ironhide's engine growls, and you can't help smiling just a touch more over the reaction. Which only makes Ironhides expression darken further. He's so easy to play with that you can't help your em field wanting to flex out and taunt him even further.

"Ironhide, release them." Prowls voice cuts through your staring contest and makes you both glance at the tactician. The Honeybee trailing along behind him as he walks over to you two. Prowl's servos are behind his own back and he seems very unconcerned about the entire thing. Ironhide makes optical contact with Prowl, and he still does not release you.

They hold their gazes like that until Ironhide finally scoffs and throws you back a touch, his digits finally leaving your frame. "Fine. Better have a good interrogation method ready for them."

You just massage the metal of your jaw, your digits rubbing over the slightly indented marks Ironhide left behind. "Aw, big bad Autobot passing the responsibility of the prisoner? Ironhide, I'm hurt. I thought we had something." Ironhide whips around, rage now reignited on his faceplate. His mouth opens, no doubt about to rip into you again, his plating tightening down on his own frame. But you also notice how his optics are just a smidgen brighter. For an old mech, Ironhide really can be quite cute. Especially when he's all flustered like that.

"Ironhide." Prowl's voice cuts through again, and Ironhide stops himself short.

Ironhide shuts his mouth with an audible clunk and points a digit through the electrified bars. "You better behave your sorry sparkdamn self or I'll come back in here and put you back in your fragging place, con."

You only wrapped your arms around yourself in an exaggerated fashion. "I'm shaking in my plating."

Delight curls in you when Ironhides gaze sharpens even further. But he finally just huffs and turns to march out of the brig.

Once he's gone, Prowl evaluates you with a critical gaze. You only impassively meet his stare before he broke it to look at the Honeybee. "Bumblebee." The scout jumped and snapped his gaze from you to his superior. "Report any instances of the prisoner acting up."

"I'm on it, Prowl." With that, Prowl gave one last glance towards you and then turned to leave.

Your gaze moved from Prowls doorwings to the Honeybee when the door automatically closed behind him. He jumped a second time when your optics met for a nano-klick. He then stood up straighter and broke his gaze to glare at the wall. Trying very hard to look tough and uninterested.

His optics already brighter than they should be and his servos almost as tight as his plating.

Oh... this would be fun.

Maybe you could convince the scout of a little... exchange. Or at least you might be able to scare him off of his post.

-

Bumblebee drummed his digits on his own gauntlet, trying very hard not to let himself focus on you. He just managed to acknowledge the fact he thought you were hot. He didn't need to be guarding you right now. Bumblebee was already embarrassed enough being attracted to a Decepticon. He didn't wanna be in charge of exactly that Decepticon prisoner. It had been a few klicks, and you hadn't said anything, so Bumblebee thought just maybe you'd keep quiet through his shift.

"Hey, Honeybee." Your voice immediately shatters that hope. Bumblebee's plating that had relaxed clamped back down on itself at the sound of your voice. Bumblebee tries to steel himself so he can prepare for whatever you were gonna say to him.

"Honeybee." You hummed, your tone so much sweeter than Bumblebee knew you were. "I know your audials work. Don't ignore me now."

Bumblebee finally looks up at you and sees you close to the bars staring right at him. "What?" He asks purposely keeping his words short.

You are completely unbothered by his curt attitude. You actually smile a bit more when he responds, and Bumblebee has to tamper down his engine so it doesn't start softly purring. "Wanna make my stay and your boring shift a little bit more... interesting?" Bumblebee cycles his optics at the question.

Did you want to... actually talk to him?

Bumblebee frowns at the thought, not letting himself get caught up in his own cyberpuppy crush. There was no telling what you were actually doing this for. Bumblebee knew what kind of bot you were first- and that was a Decepticon. So he cautiously picks his words and doesn't let his optics leave your frame. "What kind of interesting?"

You smile and uncross your arms, one of your servos reaching down and- "Wanna interface?" Your digits dragged over the cusp of your modesty panel.

Bumblebee's optics rapidly cycle multiple times as he stares at you, still dragging digits over your own modesty panel teasingly- Bumblebee rather violently snaps out of his daze when your servo full on cups your closed panel. "No- no! You're our prisoner! I'm not gonna- No!" Bumblebee can't stop his vocalizor from pitching higher even when you obviously find his reaction funny.

Bumblebee forcibly clears his vocalizot and gets himself back together. "No." He repeats and hardens his expression to glare at you impassively. This was a trick. You were messing with him. Messing with him because you thought it was funny! So Bumblebee stands firm while he meets your gaze, daring you to say something else...

And you do "Alright fine, suit yourself, Honeybee. I'll just take care of myself then." You turn on your pede and make your way to the brigs uncomfortable recharge slab and sit down on it.

Bumblebee huffs a bit.

He was kind of proud he didn't break away from your gaze first.

Bumblebee's optics snap open wide when he watches you casually spread your legs out and snap your modesty panel back in one motion. "Uh-!" Bumblebee starts, and he can't finish because he's now suddenly stuck staring right at your valve.

"Enjoy the show then, Honeybee." Bumblebee's optics snap back up, and he watches as your servos drag along the grooves of your own plating. Your digits now dragging along the sensitive inner dips were your plating meets. A soft set of sighs dragging out of you every continued touch you'd feel of yourself.

Bumblebee watches mouth agape when your servos slowly dragged from your collar all the way down to your array.

Bumblebee's jaw clamps shut when he sees your now active array.

Your spikes pressurized and twitching heavy on your own frame. Your digits then rub over the mesh of your own valve tentatively. "You can still join if you want to Honeybee." Bumblebees optics snap back up to your faceplate- and he has the break away first this time when you smile at him. His gaze unwillingly shoots back down to your array when he catches movement, and he watches you start by immediately sliding two of your digits into yourself. Your valve obediently opens under your own prodding- the rim of your hole stretching around your own digits. And Bumblebee's mouth goes utterly dry.

Your other servo wraps around your spike, and you indifferently start to stroke yourself off. Pace unbothered but digit pads making sure drag along the girth and shape of your own spike every continued stroke up and down. You groan loudly under the stimulation and Bumblebee's own array starts twinging with obvious sudden interest.

Your thighs spread farther apart, and Bumblebee watches when your digits sink down to your knuckle. The wet sound of your own lubricant punctuated the act, and Bumblebee has to swallow down the needy sound that almost escapes his vocalizor. You huff a laugh and let your frame stretch out even further. Your plating laxing more makes the sensitive seams peak out even further for Bumblebee to look at. Your open thighs very much a clear invitation for Bumblebee to cozy himself between them-

No- no no no! Bumblebee shakes his helm and has to force his gaze away from you. He wouldn't-! Bumblebee needed to leave. No, he couldn't- he's supposed to be your guard and just watch you!

So Bumblebee slack jawed watches as your pelvis arches off of the recharge slab into your own servos. Your spike is starting to leak pre lubricant all over your own plating. You moan openly, and the sound is followed by Bumblebee's spike hitting the front of his modesty panel.

Bumblebee was supposed to report you acting up- he could report you acting up! Yup! Bumblebee was doing that! Right fragging now-! Bumblebee physically puts his servo up so he won't feel tempted to steal another glance while he rapidly dials Prowls Com.

-

Prowl answers Bumblebee's com call with an impassive nod. His optics are still trailing along his datapad. "Bumblebee."

"Prowl! Uh-!" The noticeably higher pitch in Bumblebees' voice immediately has all of Prowl's attention turning towards the conversation. "Um- the prisoner! They're uh-" Prowl quickly stands at the mention of you coupled with Bumblebee's obviously flustered state. He's opening Red Alerts Com in his backlog, noting how there was no message about you escaping or acting up. Prowl moves to start heading towards the brig preemptively. "They're um-!"

"Bumblebee, have they made any attempt to escape?" Prowl prods as he makes his way out of his office.

"Prowl they're self servicing-!" Prowl stops in his place, his sensor panels flicking upwards when he processes the statement.

Prowl resists the urge to sigh and quickens his pace. "I'll be right there, Bumblebee."

...

Prowl did not believe you would still be doing exactly what Bumblebee said you were when he actually got there. But low and behold you were.

Prowl has to suppress his optical ridge twitching at the sight of your thighs spread wide and your very active array out on open display. "Prowl!" Bumblebee exclaims at the sight of him, and Prowl can only note how bright Bumblebee's optics were. If Bumblebee had door wings, Prowl imagined they would be hiked up as far as they possibly could go.

"Bumblebee, you're relieved of the rest of your shift."

A look of surprise passes over Bumblebee's faceplate before he glances at you when you make a rather loud noise. "Ah- ha right- bye!" With that, Bumblebee rushes out of the door, leaving you and Prowl alone in the brig.

The sound of the door shutting behind Bumblebee makes your helm raise and your servos pull away from your array. You make optic contact with Prowl, and he does not bother to hide the unimpressed expression on his faceplate. "Aw, Honeybee got scared away?" You smiled clearly amused. "Even when I offered him the chance to join..." Prowl's wings twitch at the casual admission.

Prowl sighed and clicked his glossia. "Your abhorrent behavior is bothering our Autobots. Cease immediately."

Like he'd expected your derma just quirked upwards at his demand. "Or what, pudding?" You're servos trail down the dips of your hips till they were resting on your array. "Gonna come in here and punish me, maybe? Oh no... whatever shall I do...?" One of your servos finds your spike again, and you begun stroking up and down your own length.

Prowl can feel his annoyance flair and become genuine anger for a nano-klick, and he half imagines doing just that. And when his logic center tries to calculate the easiest way he could get a hold of you, he dismisses the numbers, and he smothers it back down. '

Prowl's optics flick down at your hard spike that's spilling pre lubricant all over your own fist. Then, towards your valve, which you currently weren't touching but was definitely lubricating under your own administrations.

His optics flick back up and your smile sharpens a touch. Prowl's plating tightens slightly on himself, having been caught leering for the quick moment. However Prowl holds his gaze with your own.

Prowl wouldn't allow you to get to him.

"What? Too shy to come in and join? I didn't take you for the type, Prowl."

"You're our prisoner, and no type of fraternizing will take place while you're in our care." Prowl's tone is clipped and short. He can feel the urge to say more on the tip of his glossia. But he also knew better than to give into your obvious attempts to off kilter and anger him.

"What? Not much of a spike mech?" Your servos both dip low, and the movement makes him glance- and Prowl wordlessly watches you spread your own valve mesh. Prowl has to resist the urge to swallow when he physically sees you clench down on nothing. Prowl lately registers his door wings raising a bit higher, and he forces them back downwards immediately. Unfortunately, you'd noticed the slight reaction before he had. "Oh, so you are more of a valve, mech. Noted."

Prowl ignored your remark for the sake of his own sanity. "I will ask you again to cease your inappropriate behavior while in our brig."

"What? C'mon, I'm dripping over here. Come in here and spike me, Prowl." You pushed two digits into your valve with a wet sound. Your other servo still on the side of your valve and still parting your mesh. Showing Prowl how you would clench down on your own digits. "I'll even let you overload inside me if you let me out afterwards. You were an enforcer before, right? I doubt this would be the first time you've ever traded an overload for a softer sentence."

The very bold assessment you'd made of Prowl's character snaps him out of his thoughts and drags his temper back to the forefront of his processor.

You were trying to escape. Not only escape, you were trying to offer sexual favors to get yourself out of your imprisonment. And you would accuse Prowl of- extorting those he's arrested for sexual gratification? Prowl's door wings slant, and his frown deepened into a scowl. "I have done no such thing, and I will never do any such thing as the gross miss use of power you are describing."

"You expect me to believe that? Really? A dirty enforcer like yourself?" You fisted your spike again and started stroking yourself while thrusting your digits into your own valve. "I bet you even fantasize about using those stasis cuffs of yours on cons like me! Ha, while imagining yourself punishing us like the dirty criminals we are." Prowl's mouth goes dry, and disbelieving outrage floods his system alongside the hot burn of shame. Prowl didn't know how you guessed his sins correctly, but frankly, he does not care.

Prowl's wings slant further, and he can't stop himself from disparaging you at least a bit. "You are a filthy pervert. Self-servicing in front of Bumblebee with no regard to anyone else around you. You have no dignity, and it's a wonder how none of your allies have killed you yet for your personality alone."

"Oh yeah?" The amusement in your tone only makes Prowl's anger flicker higher. Your servos are still working your array, and Prowl can feel the current heat in his chassis try and burn in a different way. The utterly immoral emotion easily wants to join Prowl's rage and settle in like it was meant to be there.

Prowl's optics narrow, and he can't stop his own glare or his glossia. "You're nothing more than a sexual deviant-! A deprived criminal who can only derive joy from the most dissolute forms of interaction." Prowl's engine tappers off a rev and he forces it to still as he continues. "You are unprincipled, selfish, abhorrent, and-"

"Keep going! I'm almost there-!" You urge Prowl on a smug satisfied smile curling at your derma. Prowl's door wings snap high, and his optics widened when he processed what you'd just said.

Arousal trickled up Prowl's chassis swift to settle in alongside his immediate disgust.

Prowl was compromised by his attraction towards you.

He's leaving. Prowl was leaving right at this very moment.

Without giving you another word, Prowl turns on a pede and makes his way out of brig. "Aw, Prowl, you're no fun-!" The door shutting behind him cuts your words off. Prowl had to allow himself a moment to vent. The frustration and the sexual energy fizzling down further and further in the back of his own frame.

Prowl instinctively checks his com when he gets a message.

Ironhide had messaged Prowls com saying if he needed to come teach you a lesson, Ironhide would do it at Prowl's command. Prowl promptly dismissed the message. Prowl knew Ironhide of all mechs was not who he wanted in charge of you in the brig right now. He'd seen you get into it with one another recently on the battlefield. And frankly, your encounters could be so sexually charged nowadays, Prowl was surprised that Ironhide hadn't broken code already.

No, Prowl needed someone who would not fall prey to your flirtatious advances and / or fall for your goading comments.

... it may take him a few klicks to find who he's going to subjugate you onto and also swap schedules around to give whoever that is the time to do that.

-

Red Alert cycled his optics and stared slack jawed at the monitor in front of him. You-! this was a trick- it had to be a trick-! But the longer he watched you self-service in the brig even after Prowl left had him uncertain. Red Alert then wordlessly watches you overload all over yourself with a loud groan. Transfluid spilling out of your spike and your own thighs closing around your own servo.

And then his jaw clamps shut when you move to continue touching yourself.

"Again!?" Red alert jumped out of his chair with a panicked shout at the voice to his right suddenly speaking. Red Alert's optics burned, and his helm is sparking when he makes frazzled optic contact with Trailbreaker.

"Red, I ain't exactly against the voyeurism, but you might wanna turn the volume down." Inferno on his left makes Red Alert whip his helm around. "I think anyone in the hallway can hear them from the monitor."

"Voyeurism!? It's not-! no its-" Red Alert fumbled and stared back at the screen of you working yourself to yet another overload. Trailbreaker and Inferno were both staring at the visual of you alongside him.

Oh, this was-! Frag! Red Alert turned the monitor off with a curse. The camera feed was still recording just- if you were up to something, he could review it later, Primus! Red Alert scrubbed his servos over his faceplate, his helm sensors still spitting static. Trailbreaker laughed softly on his right, and Inferno awkwardly patted his pauldron on his left.

-

You smirked when Soundwave pinged your com to tell you he shut the camera feed off. You pulled your servos off of yourself and stood up from the slab. You slipped your servo into one of the hidden physical storage areas you had on your frame and pulled out the human gem you'd been hiding from the Autobots. You pinged Soundwave and told him you were ready to hand it off.

The far away vent in the brig rattled and opened, and Ravage dropped down onto the floor with a barely audible noise. He stalked forward and stopped dead in his tracks, staring at you.

Oh, right, your spike and valve were still just out.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I needed a way to get them to leave and turn the cameras off. They're such prudes- don't y'know?" Ravage made a chuffed sound that you couldn't take as anything else but a scoff. You bent down and stuck your servo through the bars, letting Ravage take the gem in his jaws before standing back up. "Tell Soundwave he's not gonna be able to black mail me on this. I do not care." You didn't bother trying to cover up since Ravage already had enough of an optic full that there was frankly no point.

Ravage raised his helm and continued to leer at you. You arched a brow and smirked. "Pervert."

Your com pinging with a message again makes you glance at it.

> Takes one to know one.

You huffed a laugh.

He had a point. "Touche."

As Ravage made his way back out of the brig, you made yours back to the slab. Wondering if you should fantasize about the Honeybee or that sour Enforcer of yours.

...

Maybe you could think about them both. No harm in that little fantasy now was there?

[ooooo-mcyt]

From Grian's Double Life pov, Scar's behavior in episode one feels like such a strong rejection I think.

(disclaimer that this is all speaking from grian's pov, not necessarily objective view on the situation.)

For starters we really do gloss over "Scar I think we're soulmates and you're too busy chasing fairies!" a lot. Grian very explicitly told Scar that he thinks they're soulmates (and in the same sentence is already expressing frustration with feeling like scar isn't paying attention or prioritizing grian's feelings like five minutes into them running into each other). Grian said it out loud. Scar heard him, which we know because Scar responded with "My real soulmate is flying away from me", which not only indicates Scar heard Grian, but also that he understood what Grian said on some level. And Scar walked away.

Grian has reason to feel rejected or devalued here. I mean, it seems like, from Grian's perspective, Scar thought whatever Grian was saying to him was so unimportant he instantly brushed Grian off and disregarded the conversation completely (despite grian being clearly distressed). Grian tried to express something extremely important, in a moment of obvious emotion, and he ended up feeling like Scar didn't care to listen, even when Grian said it plainly to Scar.

So then Scar and Grian go around the server, and Grian decides not to tell Scar yet (although to be fair grian already told him) and Scar..doesn't notice. They take damage multiple times while together but Scar never seems to notice when they do, or catch on to the fact that they're soulmates, even when practically everyone else they run into does in fact know, sometimes just from watching them take damage together. (oorp this was obviously for the bit, but from a character perspective i can't help but wonder if grian was 'testing' in a way, not trying to tell scar again because he's hoping scar will eventually care enough to notice himself)

And again, it's very easy for Grian to feel like Scar is rejecting or doesn't care about him. Grian feels like Scar isn't noticing him, like Scar doesn't even see him, because if Scar was paying attention, surely at some point he'd see something Grian sees as so obvious. I think this is an especially big blow to Grian specifically, because Grian often expresses love through fussing over people and making sure they're safe and healthy. So the fact that Scar apparently never once really looked at him specifically when either of them were in danger or taking damage was probably more hurtful for Grian than it would for many people.

Eventually Grian ends up going off on his own for a little bit, just to set up a little bit of a base and starting resources for them. Scar stops by, and Grian tries to tell him. "I have something to tell you!" Grian says. Scar waves him off and walks away. "I have something to tell you!" Grian calls again. Scar doesn't turn around.

Again, the running theme of Grian feeling like Scar isn't really noticing him. Another time where Grian tried to speak to Scar, to tell him they're soulmates no less, and Scar waves him off and walks away, like whatever Grian has to say isn't important, like it's something that can just be glossed over and disregarded.

And then Grian comes to Scar, marches over to Scar and his pandas, and tells Scar he has something important to tell him. Grian tells Scar to look at him, and drops dripstone on their heads. Scar isn't paying attention, laughing over the pandas. Grian presses- no, look, actually look this time!- and only after Grian demands Scar look at him can he drop another piece of dripstone on their heads and have Scar realize they're soulmates.

"Do we have to live together?" Scar asks almost immediately.

"It would be nice..."

Grian has to drag Scar to the base he's started.

And like. Obviously it isn't bad of Scar to not care about soulmates very much or to be distracted or unobservant. But all of this adds up to Grian, I think, feeling very deeply rejected, unheard, and devalued. Adds up to Grian getting this impression that Scar isn't interested in actively listening to him when he talks, or checking on him when they're in danger, or paying attention when something's important to Grian, or even just looking at him unless Grian begs him to. Which very naturally leads into Grian's arc of pulling back from Scar in following episodes.

[whisperofwonder]

The Regular

Miya Osamu x f!reader - 1.5k words

Nakano-san is a regular customer at Onigiri Miya. She eats lunch there every day, so she has a front row seat to the relationship growing between you and Osamu. At some point, she decides it's time to take matters into her own hands.

For @dira333, inspired by a prompt she gave ❤️

Nakano-san has been a regular customer of Onigiri Miya practically since the day it opened. She's retired now, and there's nothing she enjoys more than spending the lunch hour in the tidy little shop, sampling the onigiri special of the week, drinking the freshly-brewed barley tea, and reading her newspaper.

The rice he uses is the best in town - she'll tell anyone - and Miya-san is such a nice young man. He always seems to be working hard, but he still takes the time to stop by her table and share a quick chat. She wishes her grandchildren would show the kind of dedication she sees in him. They don't seem to appreciate it when she tells them that.

She's happy to see his business growing. He's hired part time help, college students that come and go, spending most of their time doing the menial work in the kitchen. Then, one day, she steps inside and sees you behind the counter.

"Hello, welcome!" You greet cheerily. "What can I get for you today?"

Miya-san appears behind you. "Hello, Nakano-san," He dips his head in a slight bow. "Nice ta see ya today." He turns to you, "Nakano-san stops in every day. She's gonna have the special and the barley tea. Don't worry, you'll start recognizin' the regulars in no time." You nod, turning to the register and pressing the keys to enter the order.

This is her first day," he explains as you work, introducing you. "She's gonna be helpin' me out with the bookkeeping and such. Things have started gettin' a little out of hand," He admits sheepishly.

"I'm here to worry about the numbers so Miya-san can worry about onigiri," You explain with a smile. Nakano-san likes you already.

As the weeks go by, you're true to your word. The menu slowly grows with new fillings and new meal options, and Nakano-san savors every one. She also can't help enjoying the glimpses she gets of the two of you. More and more often, her newspaper remains folded in her purse. Instead, her entertainment is behind the counter.

It starts out subtly enough. She can't help noticing how seamlessly the two of you work together. Onigiri Miya is a small business, so your job goes beyond just dealing with the books and numbers. The kitchen is cramped, but you weave around each other like a well-oiled machine, completing tasks the other has started and supplying something before the other even has to ask for it. Your conversation is light and easy, the occasional laughter coming from the kitchen bringing a smile to her face. She's lived long enough to know that one doesn't get along so well with just anyone.

Subtlety, however, soon runs its course. She watches in delight as Miya-san's gaze trails after you as you move back and forth behind the counter, resting on you just a beat longer than necessary. You, in turn, watch as he hefts the bags of rice to his shoulder, gaze skittering away the moment you realize you'd been staring. You pull your lip between your teeth, brow lowering as you frown at yourself, and Nakano-san has to suppress a giggle.

One day, she makes her move. Miya-san is out back bringing in the latest delivery of rice, and you're behind the counter, adding to the neat line of numbers on your ledger sheet while waiting for the next customers to arrive. She approaches the counter.

"Oh, Nakano-san!" You set the sheet aside, "How was everything today?"

"Just wonderful, as always," She says with a nod, "It might be one of my favorites."

"That's great," You smile, "I'll be sure to let Miya-san know. He really loves hearing things like that."

Nakano-san rests her fingertips on the counter, leaning in closer. "He's a handsome boy, isn't he?" She's allowed to say that sort of thing, she's an old woman, but the way you stutter in response tells her everything she needs to know.

More time passes, and the two of you certainly become closer. Not just in your relationship - your physical proximity seems to be narrowing every day. She watches you sit, shoulder to shoulder, as you look over order forms and balance sheets, your bent heads nearly brushing. Your fingertips graze his bicep as your hands flutter in conversation. He practically leans into you, arm propping himself up against the wall as he ducks his face closer to yours, intent on your every word.

You both work to remain professional, expressions blankly neutral and conversation rarely straying from the task at hand. You both have a job to do, a job it isn't hard to see you both love. She sees what neither of you do. It's only when your backs are turned that flustered smiles flit across both of your faces. You both only allow your gaze to soften when you're certain the other can't see.

You're both young, she muses. The dedication and hard work she admires so much in both of you are difficult to balance with the more delicate matters of the heart. It's a gamble, she knows, one that puts so much on the line, but she's lived 75 years. That's long enough to recognize when a gamble is worth making.

An opportunity drops into her lap one day when, to her surprise, she finds Miya-san behind the register, instead of your familiar smile.

"Is she alright?" She ventures to ask about you after Miya-san has rung in her order. He nods quickly.

"Oh, yeah. Just came down with somethin'. She said she'll try to be back in tomorrow, but I told her to take as much time as she needs." He confides in the woman who has become one of his favorite customers.

"Ah. Well, I do hope she recovers quickly." Nakano-san pauses. "It's quiet around here without her, isn't it?" She watches Miya-san's face closely, and only notices a slight flicker.

"Sure is," He agrees.

She hesitates for a moment, but age has made her more brash. "Have you told her how you feel?"

His eyes dart around the shop quickly, taking in the two business men in the far corner and the mother with her small son by the window. "How I feel?" He echoes more quietly.

"I'm sorry, that was forward of me, wasn't it?" She tucks her change back into her wallet. "I really shouldn't presume-" She takes an artful pause, glancing back at Miya-san.

"Well, ah," He reaches for the back of his neck. "Yer not wrong. Um." He pauses, dropping his voice again, "I just... don't wanna ruin a good thing. We work well together."

She nods knowingly. "Quite well," She adds with a smile.

"An' at this point, I don't know where the shop'd be without her," He goes on, voicing the justifications he's no doubt tallied up in his head. "It's - complicated."

"Life certainly is," She agrees, "But it's also short. Take it from an old lady like me - sometimes the risk is worth the reward."

Another customer enters the shop then, but Miya-san is clearly turning her words over carefully in his mind. He bows his head and murmurs a quiet thank you as she shuffles her way to her usual table. As she eats, she watches Miya-san flurry around doing the work of two people, brow furrowed in thought. She's done what she can.

You're gone for one more day, but you return after that. For a few days, things continue as normal. Nakano-san watches the two of you dancing around each other, sending you both encouraging smiles when she has the chance. She waits.

Finally, a little more than a week later, things are different. She can tell the moment she enters the shop. Something has changed. You grin at her from behind the register, same as always, but there's something softer in it.

"Hiya, Nakano-san." Miya-san has emerged from the kitchen, and it's impossible to miss his hand resting at the small of your back. "Thank you," He says meaningfully, "Fer coming in today," He adds. You shoot him a questioning look, but he ignores it, letting his hand drop. "I appreciate ya being here every day."

She smiles back at both of you, a twinkle in her eyes. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Later, sipping the last of her tea, she watches you step back into the kitchen. "Order in," You say, handing him the slip. He smiles at you, fond.

"Thanks," He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

"Samu," She can barely make out your murmured words, "We're at work." You hide your soft giggle in the fabric of his apron.

"Yeah, but I know the boss," He whispers back, tilting your chin up for one last kiss, "I think I can convince 'm to let it slide."

She smiles behind her tea cup. At this point, she really should just leave her newspaper at home.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 50. Friendly Advice

Summary: Dahlia offers Violet some advice when she runs into her at the burn pit before noticing a group of dragons flying in. Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links | Tumblr Community

I watch as Violet walks pass me, completely oblivious to me leaning against the wall where she’d just walked in on. That girl really needed to learn to check her surroundings. She was a walking target just due to her name. Gods, I’d even heard some of the first years saying she was a threat to the wing due to her smaller size. Which hadn’t been helped by Xaden’s display with her when her challenge target had suspiciously fallen too ill to participate. He’d disarmed her so easily, but given his talent on the mat, it had been expected. I know he’d done it to prove a point, but he had also shown everyone how easy of a target she was. Something I knew she didn’t need, even if we hadn’t been friends for years.

”I’m so sorry.” She whispers, barely audible above the wind.

I watch as she heaves the pack up and over the edge, the flames catching and burning the pack as it fuels the flames. Today had been the start of gauntlet training, and her squad was one of the first to run it. They’d also been the first to loose a squad member to it. I push off the wall, walking over to where she leans against the edge, both of us watching as three dragons approach from the west. Three dragons that look very familiar. But they’re too far away for me to be sure. But I do know Xaden, Garrick and Bodhi had all been gone for a while.

”You don’t need to be sorry.” I tell her, alerting her to my presence as she jumps back from the edge.

”Were you following me?” She snaps at me venomously. A tone I’d come all too familiar with when she talked to me now.

I scoff and shake my head as I fold my arms across my chest, leaning back against the corner pillar. “No, you just didn’t see me next to the door when you came in. I have better things to do than follow you around.”

”But you’re friends with them. With him.” She tells me, clearly reciting information she’s gathered herself and from Dain since she’d been here.

I roll my eyes. “Surprisingly there are people who are able to look past the bullshit they’ve been told and can be friends with me Sorrengail. Maybe something you could do if you didn’t take everything at face value. And maybe you would see, they aren’t that bad.”

She turns her head, huffing in annoyance at my words. I knew she wouldn’t like me pointing it out, but it was true. She took everything she was told and believed it. Just like a scribe. Just like she was taught. And her being better friends with Dain than me when it all happened, meaned she happily took his side.

”Have some advice Sorrengail. You are number one here. You need to look after yourself. You are you’re number one priority. Your life is your number one priotity. Dain can’t always be there to protect you.” I tell her before turning and walking back towards the door.

”Is that a threat?” She asks, her voice shaking slightly. I made her nervous. Or at least made her question something enough to make her nervous.

I stop and look over my shoulder at her, noting the glare she tries to give me. I scoff and shake my head. “No. Just some advice no one else here will tell you because they either want to kill you, see you fail or get you out of here to safety. So do something they don’t expect and prove them wrong.”

I walk out of the tower before she can reply, leaving her to ponder my words. I didn’t want her to die despite our fractured friendship. But I wasn’t going to outright help her. This place was a mental game. You could be as strong or as weak as you were in here, but ultimately those with mental strength faired the best. Something I knew she could do. And I hoped she realised that soon. She just had to find a way.

I make it to the Rotunda before I feel a shift in the courtyard, turning to see the door to the flight field open. Even before they walk under the mage light I know who it is. Watching as Bodhi, Xaden and Garrick let the door close behind them as they enter the courtyard. I quickly hide behind the door, propping it open with my foot. Was it wrong to hide and spy on my best friend and boyfriend? Probably. But I couldn’t deny I was suspicious as to where they’d been. Seeing as they’d all disappeared without a word. And it wasn’t the first time I’d noted it. Here and there over the last few weeks I’d noted Bodhi and Garrick, even Imogen sometimes being gone here and there.

“Do you know where they were?” I ask Proth, hoping he might know something from their dragons.

”They’re your friend and mate, why don’t you ask them yourself.” He drawls, sounding almost bored.

”You’re no help.” I snap back as he chuckles down the bond at me.

”There has to be something more we can do.” Bodhi says to the two of them, clearly annoyed by something.

”We’re doing everything we can.” Garrick bites back.

Something was clearly on all their minds. Had them on edge. Xaden stops mid step, his shoulders going rigid. Shit, did he know I was here?

”What’s wrong?” Garrick asks, looking over at the only other people in the courtyard, a couple who had decided to use the courtyard as a make out spot. Lovely.

”Go on. I’ll meet you inside.” Xaden tells them.

Bodhi’s brow furrows, clearly not sure at Xaden’s sudden change in behaviour as he also scans the courtyard. Luckily neither him or Garrick see me peeking around the door. But I can’t guarantee that Xaden doesn’t with his shadow ability.

”You sure?” Bodhi asks as he turns his attention back to Xaden.

”Go.” Xaden orders them, nodding towards the dorms.

I gently close the door to the Rotunda, moving as quietly and quickly as I can to run into them “accidently” on their way to their rooms. I push into the stairwell, hearing their footsteps below me as they shuffle up the stairs. I wait a few more seconds, waiting till their footsteps are closer till I start moving. I pretend to be looking for something in my pack as I dawdle up the stairs.

”Dahlia?” Bodhi asks in surprise, stopping suddenly in the stairwell causing Garrick to run into his as his eyes raise to me. “What are you doing out?”

I look up at them, pretending to be shocked by their appearance. “I had patrol this evening at the burn pit remember?”

I note how both their eyes widen slightly in alarm. They both know that tower has the perfect view of anyone flying in and out of that flight field.

”You expect Bodhi to remember something like that?” Garrick teases as he shoves Bodhi aside, walking the last few steps to join me, taking my hand in his, my body instantly relaxing at his touch.

It was stupid how much he relaxed and calmed me, even when I was suspicious as to what they had been up to.

”I will let you know I have great memory.” Bodhi fires back, scowling at Garrick.

”Clearly not because I told you yesterday I was stationed there after classes today.” I say with a roll of my eyes as he glares at me. “Where are you two coming back from?”

”Xaden wanted to get out for a bit, went on a small flight.” Garrick says with a reassuring squeeze of my hand as he smiles down at me.

”Must have been you three I saw then. Saw some dragons fly in not long ago.” I say casually as I look between the two of them.

Garrick doesn’t even seem phased by my comment, but Bodhi looks nervous. His eyes darting between Garrick and I. Meaning this wasn’t just a casual flight. They were up to something they didn’t want me knowing about.

”More than likely. Don’t think I saw anyone else out tonight.” Garrick says with a shrug, before stiffling a yawn.

I look up at him, noting how tired he looks. Something that seems to be a common thing for him recently. Maybe that has something to do with the late night flight?

”Lets get you to bed.” I tell him, turning and pulling him towards the archway that will take us to the second year floor.

Bodhi groans behind us. “Can you please put up a sound ward if you want to partake in any extra curricular activities? Some of us actually want to sleep.”

”Maybe someone should learn to put their own up.” Garrick teases as we round the corner.

”They don’t teach second years!”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn @emoravenwolf @imheretobeinvisible @pvrkacciosan

[technically-human]

You're so good at writing Robotnik! Whenever I read your comics I can hear it in his voice 😂 how do you do it? 💕💕💕 (Sorry if I've asked this already)

After how much I struggled to write that Robotnik fic, to see people think I'm good at writing him is a relief, so thank you.

I do have a few rules I try to follow when writing him specifically, but sometimes I draw a comic simply because my brain keeps repeating a specific dialogue in his voice and I need to get rid of it before it drives me to madness.

Basically!

1) this man is not constantly angry. I know it's easy to fall for this trap but you must fight it. He actually doesn't spend a lot of canon time being angry, even when he should. This is a kid's franchise after all, and angry adults are pretty scary. As much as he's the villain, Robotnik is not meant to be scary. He's still very EXPLOSIVE. He will shout a lot, and he's always frowning and he seems to always be one step away from anger, but he doesn't cross that line very often. I can't even say he's grumpy, because

2) Robotnik is basically a kid with a very extensive vocabulary. I'm not trying to disrespect Eggman here, but he throws tantrums, he insults people just because, his mood changes from one moment to the other, his emotions are BIG. I look at my 4 year old niece and I wonder if she's being possessed by the ghost of Ivo or if she's just being a normal kid.

3) he's not very self aware. He thinks he's the smartest, coolest, most impressive kid in this playground, and that results in him saying and doing very weird and ridiculous stuff with full confidence. If other people look at him funny, well, that's just because they don't understand his brilliance.

4) think of this as a game. If you want to present Robotnik with a Serious and Complicated thing and you don't know how he'd react, assume that this man is roleplaying his way out of it. He doesn't fully grasp that other people could have any value whatsoever, so he can treat it all like a game. Oh, millions are going to die? This will be good for the plot, fun. This is one of the funniest rules to break, nothing like forcing a character who Doesn't Care to suddenly care very much.

5) Robotnik's one weakness is humans. Oh he can mostly understand them, on a surface level, we see this mostly in the deleted scenes when he praises Stone to manipulate him or when he makes the fundraiser. Or even back in the first movie, when he pretends to work for the power company. He's not good at it but he THINKS he can play the part of a normal, well adjusted individual. This is very funny to me, but it's also important to remember because it means he's not above playing nice to get what he wants.

6) Robotnik doesn't say what he means, he implies it. I make him say "that's not how this works anymore" instead of "I won't leave you behind again" I make him say "no dying!" instead of "I don't want you to leave me" and I make him say "what's my full name?" Instead of "you're the only person I would ever want to hear my name from" and because I'm a bit of a romantic, most of the time, Stone gets it. But Robotnik doesn't expect him to, which is the only reason he dares to say it.

All of that is very nice, but sometimes it means I'm over here like "Come on, Rob, just say this one thing so the story can progress. Just one thing" and he replies "nu-uh, OOC + cringe + you suck, try something else" and I suffer

[moni-logues]

there's no insight in this one, btw, just my nonsense

you got out pretty unscathed.

LMAO, she loves him, your honour!!!!!

You feel sorry for him - that’s the feeling that overcomes all the others. Because you understand this fear: that not working is his fault, that it says something about his character, that it’s a fatal diagnosis that he’ll never shake.

aw, same hat. spidermen pointing at each other

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully. “We didn’t get to find out.”

love the simplicity of this the honesty of this. take that bitch

i love the stuff with her sister because it's so like. it's so easy to have people be the villain and it's so much less easy to have people do their best, even if it's wrong, even if it's right for them but wrong for others, it's hard to see that our perspective might not be the right one and i think it's extra hard to do that in writing and make it feel natural and easy and believable. really deftly handled and i don't even mind if maybe they become closer now (even though I LOOOOVe having someone to think the worst of, the more unreasonably the better)

weighs heavy like water-logged clothing.

loooooooooooove this

It’s sort of how one might feel about Sisyphus - you understand his motivations and the good place they come from, but you wish he could step away and let the rock go, move on to more productive challenges. 

sisyphus slander!!!! He'd LOVE to let go of the rock!!!! eternal damnation is eternal!!!

LOVE the conversations about the 'break-up'. the partial truth of it no less true just because it's partial. i just think it's neat

“I dunno,” he admits. “We’re talking non-stop, it’s just… no one has pulled the trigger on it. It’s like we’re both waiting to see what the other will do. Neither of us wants to say it first.” “Why not?” He laughs once, a bit bitter. “Gives the other person the power, I guess. Gives them the chance to say no. So… here we are. Limbo.”

HUH. HUHHHHHHHHHHHH. this feels FAMILIAR

Would you even entertain him if he did?” “I don’t think so,” you say.

AND OTHER LIES

@princess_ji: cheollie told me that when he went to your sister’s wedding last month you came onto him and you slept together. is that true?

ngl i would have a HUUUUGE problem getting over the fact that he said it was HER who came onto him. like, whatever, fine, but also, WHY. why does he have to say it was her? what does it matter? they still did it regardless of who came onto whom, so WHY. I specifically went back and checked and they were extremely mutual about the kiss at the wedding, he's the one who kissed her in the lift. yeah ok she got naked and got in the shower but HE was the one who joined her there. im too proud and too petty to countenance this. she's a better man than i.

would love to know waht the gang all think tbh. i want them/this on a podcast.

He nods, face serious. “Yes you do. You let me in, when you needed me. That’s a start.” And look what you did with it, you think. You were just more proof that my way is, in fact, keeping me safe.

i actually would love to know if he ever put that piece together. like, oh you let me in.. and then actually i did really hurt you because i was just too scared to try for something with you. does he actually recognise that that's what happened? i mean, he's right in general and im amazed at her self-control in NOT slinging it back at him, but yeah, i wonder

You Think You Might - Chapter 4 || csc

banner by @itaeewon

You Think You Might (masterpost)

Seungcheol x fem!reader angst smut fluff fake dating!au, kind of sort of exes to lovers?

NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Seungcheol agrees to be your fake boyfriend at your sister’s destination wedding, under the condition that it “stays there”. You didn’t expect it to hurt when he holds you to that promise.

WC: 54k across 5 chapters; this chapter 13k

Status: complete; posting a new chapter each Friday

Warnings: language, angst, hurt feelings, arguments, casual/recreational drinking, a super cringe dm exchange, bad behavior by pretty much everyone except soonchan because they're perfect angels, an almost-kiss

A/N: thank you to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-ing and to @kkaetnipjeon for naming almost every background character for me

You don’t see or hear from Seungcheol for days - during which you go from feeling disappointed to confused and embarrassed, which is where you land by the next weekend.

His absolute silence was surprising, and remains confusing, but you’re determined to keep as much of your dignity intact as possible, so when Soonyoung texts you to come hang out on Friday night, you accept.

If you’re praying that Seungcheol doesn’t show up, no one needs to know but you.

And maybe your brother will have some insight as to what happened.

You hadn’t talked to Soonyoung about it at all, yet. You’re sure you’ll be accosted for information immediately on arriving, and you waste a good hour of your afternoon trying to decide what you’ll say. Should you lie and say everything went right back to normal? What if Seungcheol has just been busy, and he reaches out and does want to talk, or see you, or -? No, that won’t happen. Best to just be honest.

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’re still unsure what to say, and still unsure if you’d rather see Seungcheol there and potentially have to face his disinterest head-on, or if you’d rather he not be there there, leaving you wondering about where his head is for another week or so.

You spend all evening turning this over and over in your mind - how tender he’d been with you at the resort, his dimpled grin and airy giggles when you goofed off together, his hands on your body, his music in your ears. And now silence.

Had you imagined it all?

No. You know you hadn’t. There had been something between you. So…what had happened?

Your brother greets you by pressing a beer into your hand, the cold both jarring and grounding, somehow.

“Bless you,” you joke, but really, you mean it. You say a quick hello to the guys on the couch (Vernon, Joshua, and Wonwoo for now) and then you head for the kitchen, for some semblance of privacy. You perch on the counter, leaning back against Soonyoung’s ugly cabinets, and down part of the beer. When you set down the bottle, your brother and his dumb roommate - a brother by proxy - stare at you expectantly from the kitchen table.

“What?” you ask.

Soonyoung levels you with a look. “Anything you want to get off your chest?”

You shrug. “Can’t think of anything.”

Dumb and Dumber exchange a look and then turn back to you in unison. “About Seungcheol? And you?” he prompts flatly.

You struggle with what to say next. You look down at your beer bottle, at your feet, at the floor. Finally, you meet your brother’s eyes, feeling that wave of embarrassment rise up inside you. At the end of the day, Seungcheol left you looking like a fool. You shrug, let this speak for itself.

And he understands, because he’s your brother, and he’s known you as long as he’s been alive. Something in his face crumples a little. “I’m sorry,” he says. He lets this sit for a minute, then adds “I shouldn’t have suggested that you bring him…”

“It’s not your fault,” you assure him. “And I’ll be fine. I’ll get over it. It wasn’t that deep, honestly. I just… feel really fucking stupid.”

“Noona, no,” Chan says, reaching across the table as if to soothe you. “We were all there. We all saw what was going on.”

This should make you feel better, but it doesn’t.

“I just…” you trail off, heels kicking against the lower cabinets, “I’m just… confused, I guess. When we were coming home, I was sure - like - even at the airport he was…”

They look at you with twin looks of sympathy, waiting you out.

You tap the bottom of the glass bottle against the countertop, just to look at something besides their pitying faces.

“I thought something would happen,” you finish quietly. “And I’m just confused as to why it didn’t. But it’ll be okay. It wasn’t that deep.”

The silence drags so long that you do look back up at them, finding them engaging in one of their frequent silent conversations.

Finally, your little brother meets your gaze, a bit cowed. “Would you… feel better, if you understood why? Or worse?”

Your blood runs cold, though you couldn’t say why. You just know by the question that they know something, that there is something to know.

“Tell me,” you demand.

“Have you… seen his insta?” Soonyoung asks timidly.

“No,” you say, heart sinking. “I unfollowed yesterday.”

He slides his phone across the table for you to see, and you’ve got the gist of it before your feet even hit the linoleum: him and Jieun, faces pressed tight together for a selfie.

You freeze in the middle of the kitchen, eyes on the screen, taking in the way he presses his cheek into the top of her head, familiar and affectionate.

It all makes sense, now - how he’d changed his tune out of nowhere. Jieun had said jump, and he’d leapt from his seat, as you’d seen him do for her since you were all still in college.

You wonder at what point during the trip she’d reared her head again - before the flight home? After?

There’s no way to know.

Joshua appears in the doorway, looking around at you warily like he knows he’s interrupting something.

“Sorry,” he says, skirting around where you stand frozen in the kitchen’s center, as if he’s afraid to get too close. “I just needed another beer.”

“No, you’re fine,” you say, making your way towards the table. “We were heading in there in a minute anyway.”

As Joshua exits again, beer in hand, he spots Soonyoung’s phone on the table, the offending image still displayed.

“Yah,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “Here we go again, right?”

You all stare at each other in silence as he leaves.

Finally, you sigh. “Can you just… warn me if he’s coming over?”

Chan frowns. “Don’t leave just because he’s here,” he begs.

“I won’t,” you promise. “It’ll just be nice to have some warning, you know?”

There’s nothing any of you can say to change the situation. You’ll just have to deal, have to move on. It’ll be fine; you just need a bit of time. In the end, you should just be grateful it wasn’t worse, grateful your heart hadn’t gotten in deeper. All things considered, you got out pretty unscathed.

Back in the living room, you all settle in and put on a movie you’ve seen a hundred times so you can talk over it without upsetting anyone. It feels nice to settle back into normal, back with people you consider friends, back with your brother, and you feel yourself relax.

That is, until Vernon’s phone buzzes on the coffee table and he reaches to answer it. “Hey hyung. Yes, at Soonyoung’s. Okay. Sweet.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone back to where it was, obliviously announcing, “Hyung is coming over.”

Even if you weren’t sure which hyung it was, the reaction would answer for you. Soonyoung and Chan look at you so immediately, heads turning in unison, that you feel yourself flush hot. Your stomach twists.

You spend the next ten minutes - you time it - arguing with yourself, trying to talk yourself into staying, trying to convince yourself that you can handle this.

Your cowardly side wins.

“I’m pretty tired,” you lie, starting to rise. Maybe some of the guys will buy it. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

The look Chan gives you reminds you of a sad puppy, but you do your best to ignore him as you wave goodbye, gather your things, and slink out of the apartment.

You’re too late; you spent too long waffling. Seungcheol’s car is parked two spots down from yours, and he seems to be fishing around his backseat for something. You try to sneak to your car, but he spots you, straightening up and closing his door.

“Hey,” he says tightly, and you wonder if he’s nervous, too.

“Hi,” you say back. You don’t mean it to sound like, hi, you asshole, but it absolutely does.

You stare at each other across the cracked concrete, the tension thickening.

You don’t know what to say - you don’t know what you want from him. An apology? An explanation from him instead of your baby brother? Both?

Finally, he closes his eyes and shakes his head, shoulders sagging a little. “I should have texted you.”

It’s neither an apology nor an explanation, so you look at him flatly. “Only if you had something worth saying,” you say, and you can hear how cold it is. You suppose he deserves it, at least a little.

He seems to tuck small into himself for just a second. “So I guess you heard.”

You squint at him. “Could have saved me some embarrassment if you’d had the balls to tell me yourself, but yeah, I was informed.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly - appeasing, insincere, just to get you off his back.

“Sure,” you say easily. “It’s whatever.”

He hears the lie for what it is and goes on the defensive. “It was supposed to stay there,” he points out. “We said - we said it stayed there.”

“We said that before,” you shoot back. Before he’d kissed you in private, before you’d slept together, before you’d stayed up all night talking, before he’d held your hand even when the weekend was over.

“No,” he snaps, taking a step towards you, away from his car. “You don’t get to do that. We agreed that we’d come home and go back to how it was. You don’t get to change your mind because you - because -”

He trails off; he clearly doesn’t want to put words in your mouth, doesn’t want to say because you liked it when you haven’t admitted it yourself.

“But you can change your mind - and let’s both be very clear, that’s what happened here - you can change your mind, just because your ex came sniffing around again?”

There it is - the whole picture, the entire truth, shattered on the feet of pavement between you, shards spraying into the darkness around you.

His expression darkens. “You don’t understand.”

You laugh, once, bitter. “I’ve been around since undergrad,” you bite. “I understand a lot more than you think I do.”

It’s true - you’ve seen it all before, the games Seungcheol and Jieun play to piss each other off: waiting to see who would text first, purposely making each other jealous, being petty and passive aggressive instead of ever talking something out.

Something plaintive crosses his face and he opens his arms wide, beseeching. “Don’t I owe it to her to try?” he asks, voice pained. “What if I can do it this time? What if I’ve… grown enough, or whatever, to be right for her?”

You feel sorry for him - that’s the feeling that overcomes all the others. Because you understand this fear: that not working is his fault, that it says something about his character, that it’s a fatal diagnosis that he’ll never shake.

That if he can’t do it right with her, it means he can’t do it right with anyone.

And you know he’s wrong. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Seungcheol,” you say, instead of answering his question. He lets his arms drop, just stares at you across the pavement. “You’re not broken or irredeemable. And nothing’s wrong with her either.”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightens. “But?” he bites out.

“There is no but. You’re both capable of being a great partner to someone. Just not each other. It’s not a bad thing, and it’s not anyone’s fault. You just need someone… different than her.”

“Someone like you,” he says flatly, like he’s clarifying, but the sarcasm isn’t as hidden away as he might have meant. 

You regard him evenly. You still feel mostly pity. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully. “We didn’t get to find out.”

Then you shake your car key out from the others and head for your driver’s side door.

He calls your name, quietly, but you ignore him. You make a point of not looking for him in your mirrors as you toss your phone into the center console, slide into reverse, and weave out of the parking lot. You don’t want to know if he watches you go. It doesn’t matter either way.

The thing about your brother is that he has tells. Blatant ones, even over texting. So when his picture - an old, grainy one you’d found in one of your mom’s physical photo albums, from the year he was four, grinning in a full-bodied hamster onesie - pops up on your phone with a faux-innocent “hiiiiii” beside it, you frown immediately.

“Hi what?” you send back. You just know, based on years of experience, that he's going to ask you something he thinks you won't agree to.

And he knows you too well, because he knows that being cute about it won't help him. Instead, his next message is just the link to a brewery's website and the question - “Friday night?”

You click it and scroll around - it seems like it's pretty new, and the owners must be trying to drum up young clientele, because the website boasts a number of events (trivia! paint and sip! 90’s night!) and the photo gallery proudly displays images of games like giant jenga and cornhole.

You're still scrolling through the photo gallery when you're interrupted by an incoming call. You go to swipe it away - instinct, naturally - when you realize it says Nayoung. 

You frown, rereading the name on the screen as if maybe it’s a lie. Then, with a bit of simmering anxiety, you slide your thumb to accept the call.

“Hey, unnie. What's wrong?” you ask automatically, sure that she must be calling because someone is dying - nothing short of that ever got her to call before.

Her silence on the other end rings for a second, long enough to make you scared that someone really did die.

“Unnie?” you prod.

“Sorry - hi,” she says, her voice coming to life in your ear. “Nothing’s wrong. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

There’s an edge to her voice and you try to define it - defensive? Irritated?

“Oh,” you say. This whole thing is so weird. “So, then, what’s up?”

“Just calling to chat, I guess.”

“You guess?” It slips out before you can stop it.

She sighs, like she knows you’re right. “I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s weird, right? I just… seeing you made me realize that you’re all grown up now, and I don’t know you.”

You don’t say anything. Every instinct you have is begging you to defend, to dig your shovel into the crumbling, wet earth of years of anger. But you want to see what she has to say before you bury her.

When you don’t answer, she pushes on. “I was just thinking that… if I want to change that… someone needs to start trying. And I guess it should be me.”

You tap your fingers on your desk, uneasy. “I don’t know what to say,” you admit. “I guess I appreciate… that you want to.” It feels stilted at best, completely faked at worst. You need time to process, to decide what you want. You wish this had been a text message so you didn’t have to say anything until you were ready, until you'd scripted it perfectly.

Because, in real time, she asks, haltingly, “Well, what do you want?”

You can’t not answer. You can’t spend six hours asking for help to craft the ideal reply.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

“Okay,” she says, like she’d braced herself for a worse response and she’s relieved it’s only this. “Okay, that’s okay. That’s fine. Just… think about it.”

“Mhm,” you manage. You feel like you’re in a play and no one ever gave you your lines. Then, as you glance sideways at the calendar tacked to your office’s bulletin board, you ask, “Aren’t you still on your honeymoon?”

She laughs, and the tension breaks a little. “Yeah. We’re just hanging out right now. We have two more days and then it’s back to reality.”

“Sorry,” you deadpan, and she laughs again.

“Me too,” she agrees. Then, she adds, “Well, I’ll let you go. I know it’s a workday.”

“Yes and I am clearly working very hard,” you say flatly, just to make her laugh again.

“If you want to call or text,” she says, “you’re welcome to, okay?”

“Sure,” you say, but you know you won’t. Habits of over twenty years are pretty tough to break, you think.

“Are you having a good time?”

It’s a delicate question; you find yourself spending your Friday night at the brewery that Soonyoung had texted you about, and it should be fun - has all the trappings of a good time. The vibe is nice, the live music is great, and you love a good game, so you’ve been playing giant Jenga and connect-4 against Soonyoung and Chan for the last two hours as you knock back different craft beers. All things you like.

But for some reason - which certainly isn’t that Seungcheol is here, and he hasn’t talked to you once, instead staying sequestered with Mingyu and Jeonghan - you’re in a shitty mood, constantly checking your phone to see if it’s late enough that you can leave without being a party pooper. 

You’re not even sure how long ago Chan and Soonyoung abandoned you with the stranger. You’re seated at the bar now, your back facing the games, and you can hear Seokmin’s noisy giggle floating your way.

“Yeah,” you say, because you hate being impolite. “I seem to have lost my friends, though.”

The guy - who, now that you’re paying attention, is actually pretty cute - glances over your shoulder towards the giggler. “I noticed,” he says, turning back to you, “that you are here with thirteen guys. What’s the situation? Are they, like, your sister wives?”

You laugh, and he smiles, happy to have succeeded. “Well, the one about to start crying over Jenga is my little brother, so let’s quickly remove him from the scenario,” you say, and the guy nods, playing along.

“They’re mostly his friends,” you admit. “I just tag along.”

“Ah,” he says. “So no sister wives. Or boyfriends.”

“Ah,” you repeat, because he showed his hand. “No boyfriends or wives. Or partners of any kind, just to cover all the bases.”

He does a valiant job trying to carry a conversation with you, and you try to engage at least to a polite degree, but your heart just isn’t in it. Your bad mood festers, weighs heavy like water-logged clothing. When the clock strikes midnight, you consider yourself off the hook.

You apologize to the guy - whose name you didn’t even get, during this whole time - and extract yourself. You make your way over to where the guys are gathered by the indoor cornhole games. 

“I’m gonna head,” you tell your brother. 

He frowns, glancing at his phone. “It’s only midnight.”

You nod, tight-lipped. You don’t want to speak, don’t want to let it all spill out - that it isn’t fun to hang around trying not to watch Seungcheol out of the corners of your eyes, not fun to push your bitterness down and keep up the mask of someone who isn’t angry. 

Luckily, he doesn’t push it. “Fine,” he says, kind of flatly, and it makes you sad for a whole different reason. You hate letting Soonyoung down. “Get home safe.”

In your periphery, you watch Seungcheol’s head snap up at this. You shift so he’s out of your view, start pulling up the app to get a ride home. 

He doesn’t get the message your body-language is sending, instead sidling up next to you, his own phone in hand.

“Are you heading out?” he asks. “I was going, too, if you want to share a ride.”

Soonyoung gives you a quick pat on the arm and dips, heading back to Chan and the little bean-bags on the cornhole board. You don’t blame him - you wish you could vanish from here, too.

“Fine,” you say evenly. You don’t wait for him or even look back as you tap to confirm the ride. You just head for the front door at a clip.

Outside, you have a few minutes to wait before the car will arrive. You cross your arms, watching the street carefully, determined to engage with Seungcheol as little as possible.

Apparently, he has his own agenda. “You’re leaving pretty early,” he observes, sliding his phone into his hoodie pocket. 

You hum noncommittally, since he hadn’t asked a question. 

“Not having fun?” he prods.

You glance sideways at him. His cheeks are a bit pink. You hadn’t been paying enough attention to know how much he had to drink, but you’re wondering if he’s a little buzzed. 

“Just tired,” you lie, because it’s fewer syllables than the truth. 

He nods. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, loud enough that you both hear it. His face instantly shifts into guilt before he can correct it, and you know it’s Jieun blowing him up. You know that’s why he’s leaving early. You don’t even need to ask.

“Listen,” he says finally, and you lift your gaze to him. You feel absolutely nothing. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask, but your voice comes out hard.

“You know.”

This makes you let out a sarcastic laugh. “If you can’t even articulate it, then I don’t think I can accept.”

He sighs heavily, like you’re being difficult. “I’m not sorry that I chose to try again with Jieun,” he admits. “I think I have the right. But I’m sorry that you got hurt in the process. That wasn’t… what I wanted.”

You choke back the defensive I’m not hurt. “I appreciate the apology,” you say coolly. 

He regards you silently. For a second you’re back at the resort and he’s your knight in shining armor, ready to stand between you and whatever’s upsetting you. For a second, you’re back between his arms in bed, warm and safe and hopeful. For a second, your hand is back in his, accepting his promise to make things better for you.

The car slides up to the curb and you check the license plate against the app before opening the door and getting into the backseat. 

“I hope you’ll actually forgive me,” he says quietly, as the car pulls away. “Even if it takes a while.”

And there he is, your Seungcheol - earnest and quiet. 

“I forgive you,” you say. “I’m just… I’ll be fine. You hurt my pride, but I’ll get over it.”

“I am really sorry,” he repeats, and this time you believe him a little more. 

“It’s fine,” you say, because it’s going to have to be. “We’ve got to move past it, anyway, or things will be weird for my brother forever.”

Seungcheol’s quiet for a minute, thinking. His phone buzzes twice more on his lap, but he ignores it. 

“Do you think we can?” he asks finally. “Move past it? Maybe be friends?”

That would be new, you think. 

“I don’t know,” you say slowly. You’d have to put a lot of feelings away - both the good ones and the bad ones. “Do you think we could?”

He shrugs. “I already consider you my friend.”

You stare at your lap for a minute. “I’ll try,” you tell him, because it’s the most you can offer. 

He sends you a tiny, sideways smile. “I’m glad,” he says. 

That’s the last thing you say for the rest of the ride, until you’re slipping out of the car and calling a goodbye over your shoulder.

August

Time heals all wounds, and while you don’t want to say you were wounded necessarily, things do settle down - the sting ebbs, day by day. It’s replaced with acceptance and a bit of that same unnamable feeling that you always get when you think of Seungcheol and his quest to fix things with Jieun. It’s sort of how one might feel about Sisyphus - you understand his motivations and the good place they come from, but you wish he could step away and let the rock go, move on to more productive challenges. 

But he can’t - can’t step to the side and let the past roll away, can’t stop trying. Love is a curse, right?

“Don’t comets mean, like, disaster is coming?” Joshua asks. 

You’re all on Soonyoung and Chan’s roof - not even just the eight of you, but a bunch of your brother’s neighbors, too, all with the same idea. You’re not sure you’ll be able to see anything, with the city’s light pollution, but it’s one in the morning and you’re all standing around craning your necks, waiting for the promised show.

“Just change in general,” you say.

“Depends on the person, or the culture,” Vernon corrects from somewhere to your right. “To some, it’s a harbinger of disaster. To some, it just means change - good or bad.”

“Ominous,” Chan says, coming up behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder playfully before moving to bother Seungkwan.

You’d all been down in the apartment for a while, drinking and snacking. You’d even created a little themed cocktail you’d named the Comet-kazi, a play on the usual kamikaze made with your favorite tequila. It had been a nice night, even with Seungcheol there. You left each other alone, kept space, but you didn’t feel any of the simmer anything - neither the anger nor the desire. Things felt almost how they used to. Almost.

Now, all crowded together against the concrete wall of the rooftop, you feel a wave of affection for the whole crowd of your brother’s idiot friends - even Seungcheol. You lean a bit on Mingyu, mostly because you’re sleepy and he’s solid enough to hold you up, watching the sky for any flickers or flashes.

Seungcheol’s voice breaks the silence from behind you. “I gotta bounce. Sorry.”

No one answers him for a second, though you feel bodies shift around you as some of the guys look over their shoulders to see him already backing towards the door into the building. Next to you, Soonyoung meets your gaze, his expression flat and knowing - probably mirroring your own. 

It’s Joshua who speaks first. “You sure, man?” he asks. “They said this is once in a lifetime…”

“It’ll be there tomorrow,” Seungcheol says, already halfway through the door. He doesn’t look back as he disappears from view.

“Won’t be as good tomorrow,” Vernon mutters, too quiet for Seungcheol to hear. 

In front of you, leaning against the concrete, Chan sighs heavily. 

“We’ve lost him, lads,” Soonyoung murmurs next to you.

“Again,” adds Seungkwan darkly.

You shift your weight to lean against Soonyoung instead of Mingyu, unconsciously moving to comfort him, sensing his distress. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly.

He gives your elbow a squeeze. “None of it’s your fault.”

You aren’t sure you agree with that. Maybe if you’d been better, more worthy somehow - prettier, more witty, something - he’d have chosen you over the familiar path, and then your brother’s friend group wouldn’t be splintering. 

“There,” Mingyu says suddenly, pointing. You all shut up, turning to follow the line of sight from his finger. A few of Soonyoung’s neighbors press closer to your little group, all trying to see.

It takes a second, but then you see it - a ball of light not much bigger than the blinking planets, moving slowly across the sky. It has no tail, no flashes or sparkles or anything else the media might have led you to expect. But still, your eyes stay on it as it travels. You’re all silent, watching, nearly holding your breath.

Change.

You let yourself wonder what kind of change could be in store for you, let yourself hope that maybe - maybe - the universe could be bringing you something good.

“Did you see the comet last night?”

You switch your phone to your other ear and tuck it against your shoulder, your hands busy chopping an onion for dinner. Your mother’s voice rings, tinny. 

“I did,” you tell her, pausing to push some of the chopped pieces to the side with the blunt side of the knife. “I was at Soonyoung’s with all the guys. It was pretty cool. Did you?”

“Mhm,” your mother answers evenly. Then, “All the guys, hm? Was Seungcheol there?”

Your stomach drops. You hesitate on the cusp of the lie, your hands already starting to sweat enough that you have to set down the knife and wipe them on your jeans before resuming the chopping. 

Your fake relationship was - as Seungcheol had said, back on the night you’d argued last month - supposed to stay there. You hadn’t discussed what would happen after, as far as your story. Should you keep the lie going a little longer, or will it make the situation snowball into a problem?

You hesitate too long and your mother catches it. She says your name, inquisitive, and you sigh. You don’t like being dishonest with her. You push the last of the onion pieces into one pile and rinse the knife in the sink, then turn and lean back against the counter, dragging a hand over your face wearily, trying to decide what version of the story to give.

You settle on something that at least mimics the truth.

“We broke up,” you say. You can hear the flatness of your tone, can hear the regret and sliver of hurt in it. Those aren’t a lie at all.

She doesn’t respond for a long moment, and your stomach twists again. You tap your nails against the kitchen counter you’re leaning on, your pulse singing so loud it’s nearly yodeling. Then, she says, “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?”

You hear the question for what it is - what happened?

You chew on your bottom lip, once again toying between the truth and a nicer version - it just didn’t work out, or, I’m not really sure what happened.

“His ex came back around,” you admit. It actually feels kind of good to say it to someone that’s not Soonyoung, something loosening in your stomach, a muscle you didn’t know you’d had clenched. “They’ve been on and off as long as I’ve known him. She’s like a drug he can’t quit, or something.” You pause, heart pounding hard as you trip over the words you’ve kept to yourself for almost a month now. “It was stupid of me to think it would be different now.”

Stupid to think he’d be different, for me, you add silently.

She says your name again, soft and regretful, and your eyes fill at the unexpected understanding and sympathy.

You let out a little bitter laugh, just to offset the unwelcome tears. “It is what it is,” you say, because that’s better than backsliding into being hurt, when you’d finally been putting it behind you.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her voice going uncharacteristically quiet in response to the stark sadness in yours. “You aren’t stupid for hoping something will work. It’s not stupid to hope that someone will step up for you.”

You busy yourself by digging out the pot you need for the soup you want to cook, just to do something, put your sudden adrenaline towards an action. “I guess,” you say, but you’re wondering if she’s speaking from experience with your dad, all those years ago. Is this a lesson she’d learned after waiting for him to step up, time and time again? 

“He seemed to really like you,” she muses in your ear, and your fingers tighten on your phone as your face heats.

Yeah, you think. I thought so, too. You can’t make yourself say it, so you simply hum in agreement. 

She sighs. “Well, darling, there’s nothing to do but brush yourself off and get back on the horse.”

You scoff. “I think I’ll go inside and watch the horses from the window for a while, actually.”

She laughs, understanding the metaphor. “Well, not for too long, yeah?” she concedes. “Or you’ll forget how to ride.”

You drop the pot, the phone falling from your shoulder as you scramble to catch it. “Sorry - sorry,” you tell her, once you’ve righted everything. “Dropped the phone. I’m trying to cook dinner.”

“I can let you go,” she says easily. “I should call Nayoung, anyway.”

You say goodbye and hang up, and then stare listlessly at the pot and chopped vegetables on the countertop. You suddenly feel too tired to cook, too tired to think.

You close your eyes, press a cool hand against them and breathe. Talking about the situation had felt a bit freeing, it’s true, but it’d also brought some of the emotions back, and you’ve been trying to pack those up tight. 

“Enough,” you mutter to yourself. You reach to turn on the burner, waiting for the flame to emerge, waiting for your hurt feelings to settle back into quiet.

It’s the hottest week of the year when your air-con dies, because of course it is.

You call the building’s super, who tells you that the building’s entire HVAC unit is busted, and he’s got a team coming to work on it sometime in the next week.

You lay on your living room floor in your underwear, star-fished because you can’t stand to have one part of your body touch another, and melt, miserable. Even your pulse and your heartbeat feel like too much work for your overheated body.

It takes you less than twelve hours to crack, using your phone to buy a window unit from the local hardware store (a decision that future-you will regret when your credit card statement comes, but right now you’re too hot to care), selecting in-store pick-up. 

You get the unit into the car without a problem, thanks to the help of a store employee in a blue vest embroidered with the store’s name. It’s getting it out of the car that you realize you hadn’t thought enough about.

You call Soonyoung, who picks up on the third ring.

“What are you and Chan doing tonight?” you ask. You’re standing next to your car’s open back door, staring at the box like it’s a problem you might be able to solve. “I need a favor and I am willing to pay cash.”

“Sorry, but I have a date,” Soonyoung says. “And Chan’s at his parents’.”

“Fuck,” you mutter. 

“Why?” your brother asks, as you crouch next to your car just to keep yourself in its shadow; the sun beating down on you has nearly made you dizzy already. “What’s wrong?”

You explain the situation to him, a bit desperately. 

He hums. “I could ask Seungcheol-hyung,” he suggests.

“Soonyoung.”

“I’m serious. He’d be the most help, anyway. Probably more than Chan.”

You hear an indignant hey! in the background of the call.

“I don’t want you to call Seungcheol,” you say. “In fact, I would rather eat glass.”

But then you think about spending the rest of the day laying like a starfish in your living room. And about trying to sleep - sweat trickling down your back, legs sticky, flopping over time and time again.

There’s no way. You won’t survive.

“God,” you groan, miserable. “It’s fine. I can call him myself. Thanks anyway.”

“Good luck,” he tells you.

You lock your car and head inside - at least you can be out of the sun, and back under your ceiling fan. It’s not much but it’s better than nothing. You go back to starfish position and tap Seungcheol’s name on your phone. 

It rings out and goes to voicemail, so you hang up. Then your phone buzzes in your hand.

You roll your eyes. He’d texted you a “what’s up” instead of answering, which means he’s with Jieun and doesn't want to be on the phone with you in front of her. 

You text him back, need help with something.

Your phone rings almost immediately.

“You okay?” he asks.

Your chest tightens. You love and hate the way he’ll jump to take care of you. It isn’t fair, it promises something he can’t provide. It also makes you feel like you’re being filled with helium, cared for and protected.

“Yeah, it’s not, like, an emergency,” you explain. “It’s just… the air-con in my building went out, and I bought a window unit, but I can’t get it upstairs. I tried my brother and Chan and neither of them are home. I was gonna see if… but if you’re busy it’s totally fine.”

It seems like Seungcheol has pulled the phone away from his mouth; you can hear his voice, muffled, catch the words Soonyoung’s sister. 

You want to smash something. You almost hang up. 

“I can help,” he says, normal volume again. “Do you mind if it’s in an hour or so?”

“You’re doing me a favor,” you point out. “Take your time.”

He laughs lightly. “That’s true,” he says agreeably. “Okay. It might be a bit, but I’ll get there before dinnertime. Sound good?”

When the knock on your door comes, you’re almost dozing - still in the middle of the living room floor. You have to peel yourself off the ground gently, your skin sticking slightly. You make your way to the door sleepily, belatedly realizing that you should probably throw on at least a t-shirt - you’re thankfully not in just underwear anymore, but you are only in a sports bra and a pair of workout shorts. 

Oh well, you think. It’s not worse than a bathing suit. 

When you open the door, Seungcheol takes a small step backwards. 

“Um,” he says, a bit unsteadily, “hey.”

His gaze sweeps over you and then he looks steadfastly somewhere over your shoulder, the tips of his ears going dark.

“Hi,” you say, as normally as you can, as something both smug and bitter swims in your stomach. “Thanks for coming.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, sounding more like himself, though his ears stay red as you step backwards to let him in.

“I did try my brother first,” you say, even though he already knows this. You feel kind of defensive, like you need to be very clear that you hadn’t just wanted to see him or something. 

(It’s nice to see him, just the two of you. It makes you want to sink into his presence, unclench something you hadn’t realized you’d had tightened, lose yourself in his slightly spicy scent. But that’s a road you can’t go down.)

“It’s not a problem,” he says, looking around your place absently. You realize he’s never been here before. 

“Do you want a drink? Water or anything?” you ask.

“Maybe after I carry it up,” he says, pulling on the front of his t-shirt and flapping it to cool down his sweaty skin. “Fuck, it’s hot in here.”

“Yeah, it’s been pretty unbearable,” you say. And it’s hotter now, just because his proximity makes your heart beat faster, your body raising its temperature without your permission. Just because his dark eyes look troubled, and it’s work to fight the instinct to fix it. Just because his smile still cuts through you, even when it’s kind of wary. “Let me just grab my keys and we can…” 

You trail off as you pat around your cluttered kitchen table until your fingers find metal. Then you lead Seungcheol back into the hallway and towards the stairs.

“So, uh,” you say as you walk, the back of your neck prickling under his gaze from behind you, “how have you been? How are things?”

You turn over your shoulder as you ask, which is the only reason you watch his face twist for a second before he says, “Ah, you know. Normal.”

“The face you just made says differently,” you point out.

He shrugs, mouth going into a firm, thin line. “It’s complicated.”

Ah. Of course. Jieun.

“Oh,” you say. “We, uhm. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“We probably shouldn’t,” he says, sounding a bit chagrined. You watch his face carefully - your eyes charting the way his lashes flick as his gaze drops, the down-turn of his mouth flirting with the idea of a pout, his jaw flexing and relaxing like he’s focusing on making it look normal. 

You wish you could squeeze his hand or give him a hug; anything to let him know that someone cares if he’s hurting. But you can’t - he’s not your problem, not your responsibility. Straight-up not yours.

You blow out a quick breath, determined to get your shit together. “I mean,” you say, pausing on the stairs’ landing so you can face him, “you’re not going to hurt my feelings at this point. We did say we’d try being friends. If you want to talk about it and get a perspective that’s not from a twenty-something-year-old dude, I’m offering. As a friend.”

He stares at you for a moment, processing, making a decision. He seems to deflate a little when he decides. 

“It’s nothing really worth talking about,” he says. “Just the usual with Ji.”

Ji. You work hard not to grimace. 

“Are you two… back together?” you ask, your voice kind of small in the empty stairwell.

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, eyes finding the ceiling of the stairwell like he can’t look at you while he says this. “Not yes, but not no. Hence the… complicated.”

“Hence,” you repeat with a snort. He makes a face at you. For a second, it feels easy again. 

“So, what’s the problem?” you ask, leaning back against the wall and crossing your arms. The cement is cool against your back, actually feels nice after melting in the apartment for hours. 

“I dunno,” he admits. “We’re talking non-stop, it’s just… no one has pulled the trigger on it. It’s like we’re both waiting to see what the other will do. Neither of us wants to say it first.”

“Why not?”

He laughs once, a bit bitter. “Gives the other person the power, I guess. Gives them the chance to say no. So… here we are. Limbo.”

“So stop it,” you say clearly, like it’s simple. His brows scrunch. “Seriously. Say what you mean - tell her what you want.”

His eyes flick to the floor and then back to yours, something swimming in his brown eyes. “What if she -”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say firmly. “If she says no, if she laughs in your face - it doesn’t matter. Would that be worse than never getting what you actually want? Really?”

He’s quiet for a minute. Then he grumbles, “How come you always have the answer? I really fucking hate that.”

“It’s because don’t think with my dick,” you fire back, and he laughs out loud.

“What’s her excuse, then?” he asks. 

“Not sure,” you say, thinking about this. “But I have a lot of theories. The first one being that she enjoys the games just as much as you do - until they stop being fun.”

He lets out a wry laugh. “That’s no secret.” He regards you for a second, and you swear his eyes sweep your form again. Then he lowers his voice and says, “It’s kind of refreshing, how you don’t. Play games, I mean.”

You flush hot - angry, you think. You open your mouth to scold him, to tell him it’s fucked up to stand here and compare you to her, but he beats you to it.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I just heard what I said.”

Your fury settles, just slightly, but your body takes longer to get the message. Your heart still pounds, your face feels like you need to stick it in the freezer, your pulse thuds with adrenaline as it prepares to fight.

For a second, you’re in that hotel shower with him again, your fingers in his hair. The adrenaline feels the same. The space between you feels charged, suddenly, alive and awake and ready to take what it wants - take what you and Seungcheol both want, it seems.

You’re saved from having to reply - the door at the bottom of the stairs slams open and Mingyu’s voice yells, “Hello? I’m dying out here!”

You look at Seungcheol, baffled, the moment broken.

“I brought help,” he explains. “Come on.”

Before he leaves, as the new window unit blasts into your bedroom, you stop him.

“Be honest with her,” you tell him, voice low so Mingyu won’t overhear and get nosy. “It’s Boyfriending 101.”

Later, you lay on your bed in the dark, your new window unit blowing directly over you. You want to freeze, want to have goosebumps for the rest of your life to make up for how hot your last two days were. 

Your phone lights up with a notification and you glance at it. 

Your sister - mom told me about your break up :( sorry to hear that

You frown. You don’t appreciate your mother spreading your business, don’t want Nayoung getting little peeks into your life that you don’t feel she deserves. 

Another text pops up under the first - want to talk about it? 

Not with you, you think sourly. 

Your real response is nicer. You send back, not really. i’m okay. thanks for checking in.

Your phone rings. You growl, loud and frustrated, then fix your tone. 

“Hey Nayoung,” you say, trying to sound like you don’t want to throw your phone across the room. 

“Hi,” she says, her voice sweet in your ear. You feel bad for being so prickly. “Are you sure you’re okay? It sucks more than normal to lose a boyfriend to an ex. There’s like… I don’t know, an extra hit to your pride in it. I know, I’ve been there.”

You wonder how many boyfriends and heartbreaks Nayoung had after moving out that you didn’t know anything about. 

You wonder what it would have felt like to have a big sister back when you were a teenager navigating your first heartbreaks, having boy problems. But you’re trying to move on from that kind of thought, trying to let go of your anger for decisions decades old, so you let the thought float along instead of clinging to it.

“I’m really fine,” you insist. 

“I just can’t believe it,” she says, and you can picture her shaking her head, hair swinging with the motion. “He seemed head over heels with you. I thought he was crazy about you. And I was only around him for a few days.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Yeah, I was… I was wrong, too. But I’ll be fine. It’s not my first rodeo, you know? I’ll be fine.”

Nayoung is quiet for a minute. “Maybe he’ll come to his senses? Would you even entertain him if he did?”

“I don’t think so,” you say. “He and his ex have been on and off the whole time I’ve known them. I shouldn’t have… I should have known the pull she has on him would… I don’t know. Win. I don’t know if he’ll ever really be able to separate himself from her, you know?”

Maybe your relationship had been a lie, but every word you say now is true.

Nayoung groans dramatically. “That’s horrible,” she laments. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sucks for them, too,” you say, rolling and looking at your ceiling. This is the longest conversation you’ve had with your sister since before you wore a bra. 

She lets out a single disbelieving laugh. “Wow. I would not be so empathetic if it was me.”

“I’ve been around them a long time,” you explain. “Since college. I’ve seen him go through it with her over and over again. Sometimes I just want to yank him off the ride. I thought I had, for a while. But I guess not.”

She sighs. “Maybe there’s hope for him,” she says. “I was… when I was young, I was definitely the toxic ex for more than one guy.”

“You?” you say, surprised. “Toxic?”

She lets out a long breath. “Yeah,” she says, a bit guiltily. “I’m not proud of it. When I first moved out? You and Soonie were so young, you might not remember - it was bad in the house. Mom and Dad fighting was like… a black hole. Nothing else mattered - nothing else could exist except their fighting. I took a lot of my anger into my next few relationships. And then, even when I wasn’t as angry anymore… that was my example of love, right? I picked men who were bone-heads like Dad, and I treated them like… well, like Mom treated Dad.”

You’re stunned into silence. It’s a lot to process.

“Sorry,” she laughs. “Was that too much?”

“No,” you say. “No, not at all. I just… never saw that side of you. It’s hard to picture.”

“I know,” she says, a bit sadly. Then, she seems to steel herself. “I had to learn to do better. Therapy helped.”

Nayoung went to therapy? News to you.

When you hang up after chatting a little more, you sit on the edge of your bed, just thinking. You hadn’t really thought about how things had been for Nayoung before she’d left. You’d only thought about what she left behind.

The thoughts feel heavy. You’re too tired for them. You open social media instead, tapping when you see a message in the corner. 

Your whole body goes ice cold when you see the name next to the picture.

@princess_ji: hey girl. i want to clear smth up if thats ok?

“Oh, shit,” you mutter, standing up and pacing in your living room, despite the cloying heat in there. 

You: hey jieun. ofc, whats up?

@princess_ji: cheollie told me that when he went to your sister’s wedding last month you came onto him and you slept together. is that true?

“He told you what?” you bark, your voice echoing across your empty apartment. You stare at it for so long that you stop being able to feel your hands. Blinking, you set your phone down on the coffee table.

Be honest with her, you’d told him. You hadn’t meant this honest!

He’d told her you slept together. 

And you came onto him? Technically true… if you omit almost every single thing that happened leading up to it.

Jesus.

You stand up and start pacing, pressing your palms to your heated cheeks. Your stomach knots up, nausea creeping up your throat. You pace the length of your apartment six times before you sit back down again, pressing your forehead to your knees and exhaling slowly.

He must have told her he wants to be with her. He must be trying to do it right, starting with no secrets. 

Seungcheol had been there for you. He had held your hand and defended you to your family and held you when you were low. He’d done everything he’d promised and more. 

And then he’d carried your new air conditioner up two flights of stairs.

You owe him.

You: yes, it’s true. he went to the wedding with me as a favor so i wouldn’t be alone. i was going through some hard stuff that weekend and he was there for me. 

You: i was in a bad place and i let myself make a choice i wouldn’t normally make. that’s all it was.

You exhale slowly again, almost dizzy with anxiety as you see her start to type.

@princess_ji: okay… so like… what about now? do you still want him???

You can’t even blame her for wanting to know what she’s walking into. You’d want to know, too, if you were in her position.

You owe him. It’s with this in mind that you send your final reply.

You: it doesn’t matter. he doesn’t want me. he only wants you. the whole time i’ve known him he’s only wanted you.

There, you think, as you turn your phone off completely, sliding it away on the table so you can’t reach it. Now we’re even. 

September

Another Friday night finds you surrounded by your brother’s friends in his dimly-lit living room. It is identical to a thousand Friday nights before - the flicker from the tv, the sound of chatter and video games, beer fizzy in your mouth, the company shifting slightly week by week depending on who’s around. There’s only one thing different.

Seungcheol brought Jieun. 

Things were tense at first - the room going silent for a nano-second when he walked in with her, before everyone burst into noisy fake-normalcy to cover for it. But an uneasy acceptance seemed to fall over the room when you knocked back a bit of your beer and said, “Hey, guys. Either of you need a drink?”

Now, Seungcheol’s on the couch watching Vernon get absolutely destroyed in whatever team game they have on, Jieun’s legs draped across his lap and his arm around her back. You’re on the floor in your usual place. Chan has seated himself beside you, steadily between you and the couple, like a loyal golden retriever standing between you and something dangerous.

You love him a little, this second baby brother.

You chat with him quietly, trying hard to keep your attention on your conversation and not what’s happening across the room on the couch. You feel a little resigned, which is a step closer to acceptance, so you’ll take it. You’re starting to come to terms with the fact that this is just going to be how it is - you’ll move on from Seungcheol bit by bit, but for a while it’s going to continue to sting a bit when he’s in front of you like this. It’s going to be a long time before his presence doesn’t stir up everything you’re walking away from - the affection, the attraction, the sameness. When he’s in the room with you, you’re always going to feel the rush of how much you like him. 

It’ll be easier when you’re not around each other as much. 

And, with time, the rest will get easier, too. 

When Soonyoung calls you from the kitchen to help carry snacks, you rise quickly, happy to be in a separate space even if just for a minute. 

You grab a bowl of chips and a plate of veggies and dip and make your way back into the living room, heading to the coffee table to set down the dishes. As you draw closer to the couch, Jieun leans up, wrapping her arms around Seungcheol’s neck to pull herself closer to his ear. 

“How long do you want to hang out here?” she whispers. “Back to your place soon?”

She releases him, smiling mischievously as he turns to look at her. You set down the food and head back to Chan, so you miss his reply, which is too quiet to catch, muttered low only for her to hear. 

It must not be the answer she wants, because when you glance back at them after settling on the floor near Chan again she’s taken her legs off of his, her arms crossed and her mouth downturned. 

Seungcheol’s jaw tics. He shifts sideways so they aren’t even touching, but then his gaze inexplicably lands on you.

You hold his gaze. It feels like you’re having a conversation, eyes locked and neither of you speaking. You tilt your head just slightly. 

Do better. 

Don’t play the game.

His slides his eyes closed, lets out a slow breath, his chest deflating as the air leaves him. When he opens his eyes again, they don’t look at you. He reaches over to Jieun, gives her thigh a quick squeeze, and murmurs something to her.

You watch her soften, watch her frown slip away. 

You flop backwards on the carpet, so that you can’t look at them even if you’re tempted to. It’s not much longer that they rise, both of them apologizing for dipping out early.

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, giving them a smile as genuine as you can. “The guys don’t realize how boring it can be to sit and watch them play video games.”

“Hey!” your brother objects. “No one’s making you hang out with us!”

Jieun sends you a grateful smile, though. “Exactly,” she says. “I like to hang out with your friends, Cheollie, but I can only watch so many rounds of -” She mimics a machine gun with her hands, complete with sound effects.

Seungcheol scrunches his face at her in adorable, teasing protest and whisks her out the door. 

You flop backwards, suddenly exhausted - from masking, from trying to push through the awkwardness, from being “on”.

“Was that as awful as I thought it was?” you ask the ceiling.

“Yes,” Soonyoung says seriously, as the rest of the room assures you that it was not. 

“It’ll get easier,” he promises. 

Whatever guidance you’d given Seungcheol clearly doesn’t last. When you join Soonyoung and Chan (and whoever else they’ve roped in on this particular Friday) at a dive bar halfway between your places, it’s clear that things have gone sour. 

He gets there late, storming in and slamming himself onto the empty barstool to Mingyu’s left, ordering something that sounds like it’ll burn the whole way down.

“Rough day?” Mingyu asks, one brow arched. 

“Fucking over it,” he mutters, which is somehow both an answer and not an answer. 

He’s too many seats away from you to really carry a conversation with each other, so you turn your back to him and Mingyu. You instead chat with your brother and Chan and occasionally Wonwoo, who’s on Chan’s other side. But you can hear, behind you, the low timbre of Seungcheol’s voice, snapping and dark and so unlike the version of him you’ve known. You can hear and feel the force with which he slaps down his glass each time it’s empty, can feel Mingyu’s back stiffen bit by bit as Seungcheol’s temper gets hotter and hotter.

“I need some air, hyung,” Mingyu says finally. “You want to come with?”

Seungcheol declines, but Dumb and Dumber get up from next to you and follow him, elbowing each other (for no purpose except to annoy) as they go.

Which leaves you alone with Seungcheol one barstool to your left, and Wonwoo two barstools to your right.

With a side, you swivel left. Seungcheol is already looking at you, his expression still stormy.

“Well,” he says sourly, and then drains the rest of his glass, dropping it heavily to the wooden bar like he had his last few. You wince, expecting it to break, but it doesn’t. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours, I guess,” you observe.

He scoffs, lip curling. “Don’t need to fucking rub it in.”

You shrug. “Just stating the obvious. I’d ask what happened, but I can guess.”

His entire face twists, and for a second you wonder if you’ve poked the bear one time too many. Then, he seems to catch himself, takes a breath. He turns to signal for another drink before he responds, which you’re guessing was a ploy to give himself more time to cool off. 

“Haven’t heard from her since Wednesday. Either her phone’s off or she blocked my number.”

“Did you fight?” you ask, even though it seems like a dumb question. 

He raises and lowers one shoulder. “Not a bad one. Not a never speak to you again kind of fight. Not a don’t talk for three days kind of fight.”

You grimace. “Sorry, buddy.”

He mirrors the face back at you. “Don’t call me buddy.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” you ask, fake sweet. 

“You call every guy buddy who’s had his mouth on your pussy?” he sneers.

“Seungcheol!” you gasp, horrified. You glance over your shoulder - Wonwoo is pretending he’s not listening as he nurses his beer, but his ears have gone dark. You whip back around. “What is wrong with you?”

He seems taken aback - maybe at himself. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking at the wood of the bar instead of at you. “I just… didn’t like that.”

“Get over it!” you snap. “I don’t lash out at you or embarrass you in public every time something happens that I don’t like!”

He has the decency to look ashamed. “You’re right. I said I’m sorry. I mean - I am. I’m sorry. Fuck, I need some air.”

He stalks past you - definitely unsteadily - and you lower your forehead onto the bar, groaning with frustration.

“Sorry, Wonwoo,” you mutter, unable to even look at him. He awkwardly pats your shoulder, and then you’re saved by the sound of Dumb and Dumber returning, boisterously arguing about a band they both like.

You’re just starting to lose the heat of embarrassment when a notification pops up on your phone. Your eyes narrow. Seungcheol has tagged you in a photo? That can’t be good. You didn’t take a photo with him today.

Silently, you swipe to open the app. The shot you’re tagged in - along with the rest of the group - is just a blurry shot of everyone’s mostly empty glasses atop of the bar. It’s paired with a selfie he most certainly hadn’t taken here at the bar, but whatever - that’s not the problem.

The problem is you know exactly what move he’s trying to make here.

You release a breath too loudly. Your brother turns to look, alarmed.

“Where are you going?” he asks, baffled, as you grab your shit and stand.

“To fight with Seungcheol, apparently,” you mutter. 

You push your way through the bar, slipping through the door and past the bouncer, scanning the sidewalk for the idiot you know you’ll find here. 

“Hey,” you call when you spot him, leaning against the brick wall, face lit by his cell phone screen. “Untag me in that shit.”

He looks at you, confused. “Why?”

“Because you only did it to make her mad,” you say firmly as you draw closer. “You want her to see that I’m out with you guys and get pissed off or jealous or both. Don’t do that. Don’t use me to play your fucking games with her.”

The silence you’re met with is so stony, you think he’s going to fire back at you. But instead he lets his screen go dark and his arm lowers to his side again, and then he mutters, “Fine. You’re right. Sorry.”

“Tell her sorry,” you grumble.

He scowls at you. “Whose side are you on? She should be apologizing to me.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes a little. “This is getting old, don’t you think?”

“What is?” he asks darkly, a warning in his tone for the first time. You ignore it; he’s pissed you off too many times tonight and you’re done being delicate about all this.

“Me trying to correct the course while you try as hard as you can to steer towards the rocks.”

He pushes himself from the wall, coming to face you completely. A shiver goes through you, despite yourself. You meet his angry gaze just as furiously.

“Why are you trying to steer at all?” he asks, mocking. “You shouldn’t even be on the boat.”

A laugh bursts from you - half from shock and half because he’s right.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding, still smiling despite how fucking angry you are. “I guess it’s just… as your friend… it’s kind of hard to watch it happen. Especially when I know you can do better.”

His expression darkens further, his brows furrowed and his eyes angry slits.

“You know,” he says, his voice low and hard, “I’m getting really tired of your I know everything act, when I’ve spent the last three or four months watching you pretend that if you keep everyone but Soonyoung off your island, nothing will ever hurt you.”

“Excuse me?” you breathe. “I don’t do that.”

He shrugs, all innocence. “Sure seems like it from here. Who else do you let see you when you’re down - your family? Definitely not.”

A dangerous wave of anger washes over you. “That’s pretty fucked up,” you say, voice sounding warped to your own ears, “considering you saw firsthand why I keep distance with my family. I’m not trying to not get hurt, I’m creating boundaries -”

“Creating boundaries that don’t let them close enough to hurt you,” he says, like you’ve proven his point.

“That’s not the same,” you argue. “And who the fuck asked you, anyway?”

He shrugs. “You seem to have a lot of opinions about my life, just thought I’d return the favor… buddy.”

You very nearly launch at him, your hands balling into furious fists, but you’re saved from yourself by Soonyoung jogging up the sidewalk, calling both of your names.

“What’s going on?” he asks, panting. “I came out to see if you were gonna come back in to close your card. Are you guys fighting?”

“No,” you both say, in tandem.

You start to follow Soonyoung back towards the bar. Over your shoulder, to Seungcheol, you shoot, “Untag me. Got it?” Then you head back inside with your brother, leaving your ex fake boyfriend outside, alone.

–

You’re pulled from a dreamless sleep by your phone buzzing on your nightstand. You reach for it without opening your eyes, mumbling a hello, expecting Soonyoung or Chan.

“Come open your door.”

For a long second, you have no idea who’s talking or what the hell they’re talking about. You blink your eyes open, pulling the phone away from your face to peer at the screen.

“Seungcheol?” you manage to ask. “What do you mean open my door? Wait, are you in my building? How did you even get in?”

“I knocked,” he says simply. “Come let me in before your coffee burns all the skin off my hand.”

“Coffee?” You perk up just a fraction.

You can almost hear the playful eye-roll he gives you. “Come on, it’s really hot. They didn’t give me one of the paper-hand-protector things.”

You hang up and shuffle across your room, grabbing a hoodie from the back of your desk chair and pulling it over your head as you make your way to your front door.

Seungcheol clearly hasn’t slept, is probably nursing a hangover - but somehow still looks great. 

“Here,” he says, holding out a to-go cup from a nearby cafe. “I think I got your order right. Careful, it’s hot.”

You take the cup and regard him silently. You have a hunch that he’s here to apologize for fighting with you, and you aren’t sure how you feel - not sure if you’re going to forgive him or pretend to forgive him or maybe even just keep fighting.

“Can I come in?” he asks, a bit sheepishly.

You twist your mouth sideways. “Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

He smiles ruefully. “She can’t yell at me if she isn’t speaking to me.”

“That’s true,” you murmur, and after considering for a moment, you find yourself backing up to let him in.

He stands near your table, looking around with mild interest, the same way he had when he came with your air conditioner. 

“You wanna sit down?” you ask. Then, “You want half of this? I can pour it into mugs.”

“No,” he says quickly. “That’s yours. I want you to have it.”

This solidifies your guess that this is an apology coffee. But he does sit at your table, gingerly, like he’s scared the chair will break beneath him. 

You sit across from him, sipping at the coffee he brought you, and wait. He came with something to say, so you’ll sit and listen.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says, quietly.

You look at the cup in your hand - it’s easier than looking at him as you say, just as quietly, “Some of it was true.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, shifting forward. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean I had to say it. You’re right - I can’t keep inserting you in my bullshit. It isn’t fair.”

You shrug. “I should stop telling you what to do, too. I’m… inserting myself into the bullshit, I guess. It’s just…” You trail off.

He raises both eyebrows, like he wants you to complete the thought. 

You let out a nearly silent sigh, a breath of defeat. “It is really hard to watch you go ‘round and ‘round with her, after all these years. But… even if it’s hard… it’s not my business. I’ll try to stay out of it.”

He nods. “That’s probably… better for both of us.”

“Well,” you say, a bit of awkwardness settling between you, “we can both make an effort to keep me out of it. I appreciate the apology. I’m sorry, too, if anything I said was out of line.”

This was good communication, you think. If you weren’t trying to stay out of it, you’d say so, tell him that this was how partners should talk after a fight.  

You walk him to the door instead, slowly, something weighing on your mind.

“Seungcheol?” you say, as you get within arms’ reach of the door. “What you said outside, last night… about my island…”

He looks embarrassed, shaking his head immediately to deny the truth of it. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It isn’t true,” you say again - firmly, but much more calmly thank you had outside the bar. “I keep my family out of my day to day life because I prefer that.”

He waves his head slowly, like he’s considering what you’re saying. “Sure,” he says after a second. “So, ask yourself why. Why is it preferable, without them?”

“Because they drive me crazy,” you say. “Because I can’t rely on them to support me. Because they don’t consider my needs, or even feelings.”

“Because they’ve hurt you,” he says gently. “And sometimes they still do.”

You purse your lips, annoyed that his point has checked out. 

“And your friends?” he prods. 

“My friendships are fine.” Your tone has gone defensive again.

“You’ve never brought anyone out with us,” he points out. “I’ve known you since college and I don’t know the name of a single person in your life that isn’t in your brother’s living room every Friday night. Why keep your circle separate?” 

“No room left in Soonyoung’s apartment.”

He says your name like a gentle scolding. “Seriously.”

You blow out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know,” you huff. “My friendships aren’t like that - lay around the living room and bullshit over beer. They’re… get brunch on Sunday morning and maybe get a mani-pedi before going home again. It’s just different. They like different things - a plan, an activity. Soonyoung’s is just… sitting around.”

“Have you ever let them see you when you’re ‘off’? Just lounging? Do you ever talk to them when you’re low? Who did you turn to the last time you had your heart broken?” he asks.

You go quiet. It had been Soonyoung, and Chan just by proxy since you couldn’t avoid him in their kitchen.

“I’m not trying to pick on you. I shouldn’t have said it in the first place. But, you asked, so I’m explaining,” he says, a bit pleadingly. 

Your throat has gone embarrassingly tight and your vision blurs. The answer to his question is, no one.

His arms around you are so unexpected that you jump a little, startled. Then, after less than a second of consideration, you melt into his hold, into the safety between his arms that you’ve missed and craved since your sister’s wedding ended.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your head. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You let yourself hold him back, your arms loose around his middle. You don’t know where the line is - is this a friends hug, is it okay to lean on him or do you need to hold your tension yourself? 

In the end, you hover somewhere in the middle until he releases you, stepping back and looking at you carefully, one hand resting on your shoulder.

“I don’t want to be like that,” you whisper.

He gives you a sad smile. “Then you have to let people in.”

 “I don’t… think I know how,” you admit. Your stomach feels like lead.

He nods, face serious. “Yes you do. You let me in, when you needed me. That’s a start.”

And look what you did with it, you think. You were just more proof that my way is, in fact, keeping me safe.

His hand moves from your shoulder, up to your jaw. You startle again, your gaze jumping to his in alarm, a question on your face.

There’s a question on his, too, and he’s still standing so close.

“You should not kiss me right now,” you whisper, voice raw. Because, fuck, you want him to - or you would if he were here fully unattached. And he is very much not.

But that would be a mistake anyway, because even if he was unattached for now, Jieun would show up again eventually. You’ve made the mistake of thinking he can say no to her for the last time.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Right now, he’s with her, whether she’s currently speaking to him or not.

“You’re right,” he says, his own voice rough. His hand is gone from your cheek, but you don’t remember him removing it. “You’re right. Sorry. That was… that would have been a mistake.”

“It was a very good apology until that,” you tell him, reaching for the doorknob. “We’ll pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I’d appreciate that,” he admits, stepping into your hallway. Over his shoulder, he adds, “Thanks. For talking to me.”

“Thanks for talking to me,” you return, and then you watch him go.

–

When your sister calls a few nights later, you don’t feel the spike of frustration or anger you had the last few times. You’d almost been expecting it - at some point.

When she asks what’s new with you, you start to say nothing - just like always - but Seungcheol’s words are still swimming in circles in your head. Nayoung is trying. Maybe you could try, too.

So, you admit, “Kind of had a weird fight with Seungcheol the other night. I dunno.”

Her surprise is clear in her tone. “You talked to him?”

“Oh,” you say, realizing how little your sister knows about your day-to-day happenings. Of course she wouldn’t know that Seungcheol is at your brother’s essentially every weekend, just like you. “Well, yeah. He’s one of Soonyoung’s best friends. He’s always around.”

“God, that’s the worst,” she grouses. “How can you be expected to get over someone when they’re always in your face?” The question seems rhetorical because she continues, “What did you fight about?”

“Him and his ex, at first. Well, she’s not his ex… currently. I’m his ex, currently. But, you get it. Just like… watching him act like a tool with her when… he was better with me.” You let out a sound that’s almost a laugh - at your own expense. Because you can hear how stupid you sound. 

Your sister says it more nicely. “You have to let people make their own mistakes, unfortunately,” she says. 

“I know,” you say mournfully. “It just sucks.”

She sighed. “You’re braver than me,” she tells you. “I don’t think I could date again. If anything happens to Jeongwoo, I swear I’ll be single until I die.”

“It’s rough out here,” you agree. 

“Seriously,” she says. “I really only got in deep with Jeongwoo because when we started talking, I had already known him from college. I knew his character already, I knew his reputation. I’m not sure I could just… learn to trust a stranger.”

You go cold with how much this sounds like you.

“Yeah,” you say slowly, not sure you want to unpeel this truth for her, not sure you want to reveal this ugly part of yourself. But maybe this is the best place to do so - with someone who seems to match. Someone who knows how you grew up, learned love from the same fiery wreck that you did. “I… me, too. That’s the second thing we fought about. He kind of threw it in my face that I don’t let… most people in.”

She laughs once, sarcastic and biting. “You can blame Mom for that.”

This shocks you into silence. “I don’t blame Mom,” you say carefully. “I mean, I don’t fully blame anyone - every day of my life worked to shape me into who I am, no person is responsible. But between Mom and Dad… I wouldn’t say it’s Mom’s fault that I don’t like… sharing myself with others.”

The words come from you unsteadily, like a newborn colt, wobbly and unbalanced. You’ve never articulated this before, never even really thought about it. But you don’t blame your mother - for all of her flaws - for your fear of vulnerability with others. She hadn’t left you behind.

That had been Nayoung - Nayoung, and your dad.

Nayoung makes a sound that seems like the vocal representation of a shrug. “I don’t remember Mom ever feeling like someone I could talk to when I had problems, or when I was upset,” she observes. 

“Maybe,” you say, because, true, your mother hadn’t really been soft and comforting. But - “But at least she was there.”

And there it is. 

Unlike Dad. Unlike you.

You don’t say it, but you think she probably hears it anyway. Nayoung doesn’t respond for so long that you check to see if you got disconnected.

“We’re all a mess, huh?” she muses finally. “All four of us. How’d Soonie end up so normal?”

“Everyone babied him,” you supply, and she laughs, the potential moment of depth successfully swerved - as expected for you, and apparently from your sister, too. 

Still. When you hang up a little later, you feel somehow lighter. Like you understand her better - and maybe you let her understand you better, too. You’d let her in a little bit - just an inch - but it wasn’t nothing.

It almost feels kind of nice.

<- Prev || Next ->

The final chapter will go up next Friday!! Thank you for reading!!

[slut4thebroken]

Handyman

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x reader

Summary | You seduce your new neighbor.

Warnings | Smut, dubcon?, filthy filthy oral, cheating, deep throating, seduction, throat pie, pre apocalypse, mechanic!Emmett, idk lol.

Words | 3k

Notes | There’s not as much smut as I would’ve liked tbh :/

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You usually weren’t an overly social neighbor… but you decided to greet your new neighbors after you spent an afternoon watching a man carrying boxes into the house. His sleeves were short enough to show off his bulging muscles every time he lifted something, and you even caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his bicep. 

You decided to wait a couple days for them to get settled before heading over and knocking on the door. The man opened the door and you watched his eyes flick down to your body for half a second before going back to your face. 

“I saw that you just moved in and I wanted to introduce myself.” You gave him your name and held your hand out for him to shake. 

“Emmett.” He replied, almost curtly, as he reached out to shake your hand. 

“Who is it?” A woman called out from inside the house. Emmett cleared his throat and you tried not to smirk. 

“The neighbor. She came over to introduce herself.” He answered, then a second later the door was opening wider. You gave her the same greeting and found out her name was Nora. 

“I would’ve baked you some cookies or something but my oven’s been on the fritz recently.” You said, almost sheepishly. “I’ve been meaning to call someone about it,”

“Honey, why don’t you help with her oven?” Nora suggested, looking at Emmett. 

“Oh that would be amazing. I’m going out right now, but I’ll be home the rest of the week if you don’t mind stopping by.” You said innocently. You wanted more time to “prepare.”

“Sure.” Was all he said and a wide smile took over your face. 

“Thank you so much. If either of you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” You said sweetly. Nora smiled, seemingly buying your whole innocent act. 

You cleaned up around the house, shaved, made sure your makeup was perfect and your hair was styled just right. Emmett didn’t show, but the next day, after following the same routine, you got a knock on your front door in the evening. You opened it, wearing only a silk chemise with a matching robe, and smiled at the sight of him.  

“Thank you again for this.” You said earnestly, letting him inside. He nodded and grumbled out a response as he made his way to the kitchen, tool box in hand. 

“So what’s wrong with it?” 

“It turns on and I can set the temperature and everything, but it doesn’t heat up.” He slid the oven away from the wall, then sat down on the floor behind it and got to work. “Where did you move from?” You asked curiously, trying to make conversation. 

“The city. It was cheaper out here.” You would’ve thought he was being dismissive if he didn’t add, “You live here alone?”  

“Oh, no— I’m married.” He nodded in acknowledgement, then processed your words, then turned to look at you. 

“You’re married?” You held up your left hand to show him the diamond on your ring finger— he must not have noticed the first time you met. “Huh..” He said, turning back to the oven. “So why can’t he fix this for you?”

“Because he can just pay someone to fix it.” You said amusedly. “Plus, he doesn't even know it’s broken.” He glanced at you questioningly, so you continued. “He travels a lot for work— is usually only home a couple days a month.” 

“Just you in this big house? Sounds lonely.” You smiled a little when his voice started to soften, sounding less guarded. 

“It’s not so bad. I have company over quite often.” 

“I guess in a town this small it must be pretty easy to make friends.” He commented and you chuckled softly. 

“I never said they were friends.” It seemed like he was focusing really hard on not looking away from what he was doing. After a beat of silence you decided to get yourself a glass of wine. “Do you want anything to drink? I don’t have beer, but there’s whiskey— or water,”

“Water’s fine please.” You filled a glass with water and walked it over to him, receiving a small “thanks” in response. Instead of going back to your spot on the other side of the kitchen, you stayed close to him, leaning against the counter as you watched him work. 

“So, how do you know how to do this anyway?” You asked, taking a sip of your wine without looking away from him. 

“Well, I’m a mechanic so I’m good with my hands, but I always try to fix stuff myself first before getting help, and our oven stopped working a couple years ago.”  

“Nora’s a lucky girl.” You said playfully, mostly referring to the comment about him being good with his hands. As you watched him work, you couldn’t help but imagine his hands squeezing and groping your body, or his fingers curling against that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back. 

“Yeah, well.. it’s expensive not knowing how to fix stuff yourself.” 

“I take it being a mechanic doesn’t pay much?” 

He scoffed a laugh at that. “No, not exactly.” He said dryly, glancing at you for a moment before looking down at his tool box to switch out his tools, then turning back to the oven. “What do you do?”

“Marry smart.” You said simply. You liked your husband, but you’d be lying if you said money had no part in why you agreed to marry him. “It’s not so bad. I still let him fuck me whenever he comes home so it’s not like he doesn’t get anything out of this either.” 

“He gets laid once a month and he’s fine with paying for this house and your… lifestyle?” He glanced at the diamond bracelet on your wrist, no doubt having noticed other things around the house that suggested you had expensive taste. 

“He’s allowed to fuck other women.” You shrugged. “And trust me, my “lifestyle” barely makes a dent in his salary.” You paused to take a sip of wine, then added, “Plus, he’s old fashioned— likes being the breadwinner.” 

“How old is he?” 

“40.” That made him turn toward you. 

“How old are you?” 

“26.” 

“Jesus.” He said through a breath. An amused smirk took over your face at his reaction. 

“I like older men.” You said simply. “Most of them like me too.” You added and he scoffed quietly. “Actually most men in general like me. Especially the married ones.” You swirled the wine in the glass a little, waiting for his response. 

“I’m sure they do.” Was all he said, sounding a little too dismissive for your liking.

“I’m only speaking from experience.” You shrugged, watching him carefully. “The married ones with kids are usually the ones chasing after me. Something about their wives not having any time or energy anymore.”

“And you just voluntarily help them cheat on their spouses?” He asked rhetorically, his tone getting sharper. 

“I don’t ask about their personal life. It’s none of my business.” You said plainly. “Plus it’s not like I’m seeking them out, I just don’t stop them.” You shrugged. 

While you rarely sought anyone out, occasionally you’d come across a man like Emmett— someone who was slightly better at resisting temptation. Someone you craved. Once you had your sights set, there was barely a possibility it wouldn’t happen. 

You didn’t get a response from him though. Just as you were about to add on, he suddenly stood up. You watched him turn the oven on and then pack up his tools, waiting for it to heat up. After another minute, he opened the oven, then closed it and turned it off. “It works now.”

“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver.” Your voice already had a hint of playfulness. 

He cleared his throat and nodded stiffly in response, making you smirk a little. You thought it was cute the way he tried to avoid looking at you. 

“How can I repay you?” Your voice turned a little more sultry and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. What he did right now would decide how this would go. Either he’d make his way to the door and try to leave before anything happened, or he’d stay in place… When he didn’t move, you bit back a smirk. “I can give you money…” You offered innocently. “But I usually prefer more… creative forms of payment.”

“It’s fine. It was just a favor for a neighbor.” He shrugged, still not looking at you. Or moving. 

“Right… Are you sure? I’d hate for you to not be rewarded for all the hard work you just did for me.” You set your wine glass on the counter and took a step closer to him. “C’mon, you deserve it.” You purred, continuing to step closer until you were just inches away from him. He turned his head to the side when you placed your hand on his bicep. You bit your lip, enjoying the feeling of his hard muscles below your palm. “Look at me, Emmett.” You ordered sensually. He clenched his jaw, but forced himself to look at you again. 

“You don’t have to feel guilty. Services are usually paid for, aren’t they? It’s not like… you came over here expecting anything…” You trailed off, making it clear that you knew that wasn’t the case. If Emmett wasn’t here for that, he would’ve left by now. “Right?” He swallowed audibly and you bit your lip again, never breaking eye contact. Your other hand landed on his stomach and slowly trailed down until you reached his belt. 

“You deserve this.” You whispered, stepping impossibly closer. “I watched you carry all those boxes inside. After moving and then helping me… I’m sure you’re a little pent up, aren’t you?” He clenched his jaw again and closed his eyes, no doubt in a last ditch effort to resist temptation. When you moved your other hand from his bicep to his belt, letting you unbuckle it, he looked at you again and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when you slowly got down on your knees. 

“Just relax, Emmett.” You cooed, hesitating for only a moment before slowly unbuttoning his jeans. He turned his head to the side and it almost seemed like he was looking out the window facing his house. “You deserve to feel good… and since you’re here right now, I’m assuming you’re not getting the release you need at home.” You said softly. 

You pulled the zipper down slowly, giving him a chance to move away or tell you to stop… but he didn’t. So you pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to free his half hard cock. You practically salivated at the sight and quickly took it in your hand, giving an experimental stroke. He let out a shaky breath and gripped the edge of the counter until his knuckles blanched. 

Even though you wanted to ride his face and feel his cock stretching your pussy, you knew that in order for this to happen again, you’d have to blow him away with your skills— literally. 

You kitten licked the bead of precum, then wrapped your lips around the head with a low moan. He was completely frozen as you suckled on the tip of his cock, flicking your tongue over it to add stimulation. When you pulled back, his hips flinched forward a tiny bit, making you smirk. 

“You deserve this.” You reminded him, your voice a husky whisper. Not bothering waiting for a response, you took him in your mouth and started bobbing up and down, keeping your hand at the base. 

It didn’t take long for him to get fully hard and when he did, you moved your hand to his thigh, then went all the way down until your nose was buried in the tuft of pubic hair at the base. He let out a choked moan and his hand instinctively flew to the back of your head. You would’ve smirked if your lips weren’t stretched so wide around his length. 

His hips bucked forward before he could help it when you pulled back to start bobbing up and down again. If he took over, you wouldn’t stop him, but you enjoyed showing off your skills. 

You always loved how impressed a man would get as you effortlessly throated his whole cock to the base, and the way his brain would short circuit when you stuck your tongue out to lap at his balls while his cock was still in your throat. When you did that to Emmett, he finally let out a low, gravelly moan and gripped your hair in his fist. 

“Jesus-” he choked out, his hips gyrating slightly as he struggled to handle the overwhelming pleasure of his cock in your esophagus with your tongue lapping at his balls. After a few seconds, you finally needed air so you pulled off, looking up at him through your lashes, stroking his spit soaked cock. 

“See? Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“I- I’m not going to last much longer if you keep doing that.” You bit back a devilish smirk at his confession. 

“They usually don’t. I’m sure you have to be home soon anyway though.” With that, you were back on his cock, bobbing up and down to the base a few times. He wasn’t trying to move you yet, but you started to notice some resistance each time you pulled back, so you relented and throated his length to the base again. 

“Please,” he gasped, making you stick your tongue out to flick over his balls. Emmett grunted loudly and his hips bucked as his other hand joined on your head, holding you down. “Fuck- that’s so good…” 

Lifting one hand up between his legs, you gently cupped his balls and brought them closer to your mouth. His head fell back with a moan and you would’ve smirked if you weren’t trying to open your mouth impossibly wider… When you finally managed to slip his balls past your lips into your mouth, his grip on your head turned bruising and he leaned over slightly to have a better hold on you, pulling you even closer to his pelvis. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He muttered, getting lost in the sensation. You could already tell this was going to be something he’d never forget… “Fuck— I’m gonna come.” He choked out. 

You moaned around him in response, not able to do much else, and moved your fingers back a tiny bit more to gently massage his taint, forcing another gutteral sound out of him. His hips were rutting slightly, but never pulling back enough to fully dislodge his balls from your mouth. Even when they drew up into his body, he just pulled you closer as he finally fell over the edge. 

His sounds were almost pained and you moaned again, the vibrations making his hips flinch forward. You could feel scalding hot come making its way down your throat into your stomach and you gagged, but forced yourself to stay in place, not wanting to interrupt his clearly much-needed pleasure. 

After another long moment, his grip on your head gradually started to loosen as his body relaxed. You waited until his hands fell back to his sides, then slowly pulled off, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. 

Both of you were panting heavily and Emmett moved one hand back to the counter to support his weight while the other dragged through his hair. You cleared your throat, ignoring the prominent ache between your legs in favor of ending this properly— something that would be essential in planting the seed that would make him want more. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, Emmett?” You asked, your voice a little hoarse from the abuse on your throat. 

“Fuck- are you kidding?” He scoffed a breathy laugh and you smiled up at him, carefully wiping away the spit from your lips. 

“Hand me some paper towels, will you?” He obeyed, grabbing a wad of paper towels from the counter and passing them to you. He hissed at how sensitive his cock was when you started wiping up the mess, making sure you got rid of the smudged lipstick at the base and around his balls. “You might want to just shower to get the rest of it off.” 

“Y-Yeah.” Was all he said. Emmett just watched as you carefully tucked his softening cock back in his underwear, then pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. 

“Good as new.” You smiled, holding your hand out. He got the hint quickly and grasped it, helping you to your feet. “Thank you again for all your help.” You placed your hand on his bicep and bit your lip slightly, hearing him swallow audibly in response. 

“Um— Should I…” He trailed off, his gaze shifting to your hips.

“Don’t worry about it. You deserved a treat after all your hard work.” The smile never left your lips as you looked up at him through your lashes, already thinking up ideas of how to get him alone again. “I just hope you finally feel a little more appreciated for all of your hard work.” 

“Yeah, I- I do… Thanks.” He said awkwardly, clearing his throat. 

“Well,” you finally said, taking a step away from him and dropping your hand back to your side— he almost seemed disappointed… “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me, neighbor.”

[alltimecharlo]

I need an insufferable Smitty at worlds annoying team USA with Mack this Mack that and well Mack does it like this and as soon as they are in the same city a couple of the team USA guys go drop him off at team Canada hotel like here take him we’re tired of hearing about you to a confused Mack. They walk into a team Canada team dinner or something so they’re all just staring

absolutely yes!!! willmack at worlds my beloved <3 fic below the cut :)

(p.s. if you want more willmack being inseperable idiots at worlds, i have an ao3 fic about that too hehe🩵)

Will is insufferable.

Not in the way that makes him hated—no, somehow it just makes him more endearing. But that doesn’t mean the rest of Team USA isn’t completely, utterly over it.

"Mack always tapes his stick like this," Will says, for the third time that morning in the locker room, showing off the little spiral twist near the toe of his blade.

"Mack wouldn’t miss that shot," Will mutters under his breath after a teammate flubs an easy one in morning skate.

"Mack says recovery snacks are sacred. You don’t disrespect a man’s orange slices," Will announces, batting someone's hand away from his clearly labeled post-practice snack bag.

By the end of day three at Worlds, half the team is quoting him behind his back. Mack this. Mack that. Mack would probably coach this whole team better than their current staff, if you ask Will.

"Hey, Smitty," Cutter says one evening, exhausted and rubbing his temples as Will chirps on about Mack's powerplay zone entries. "You ever consider transferring to Team Canada?"

"What?" Will looks genuinely confused. "No, I'm American."

"Yeah, well. Your heart's in Alberta."

They all laugh, except Will, who just shrugs and says, "Mack was born in Vancouver, actually."

As soon as they're back in Stockholm, a few of the older Team USA players look way too smug as they all pile into the bus for a day off in town. Will, as usual, is talking to someone about Mack.

"Honestly, Mack’s backhand—you’d never expect it, but it’s deadly. He scored this shootout winner once and—"

"Smitty."

"Hm?"

"Get your stuff."

"Why?"

"You’re coming with us."

--

Mack is not expecting anything when he steps into the hotel restaurant for the team dinner. He’s late, having just gotten off a FaceTime call with his little sister, and he slides in through the side door near the bar, head down, smoothing the collar of his polo.

There’s a sudden hush.

He looks up.

Will is standing dead center in the doorway, flanked by two Team USA defensemen like some kind of ceremonial offering. The restaurant falls silent. Will is holding a little duffel bag and looking… smug? Embarrassed? Relieved?

"Uh," Mack says.

"Your problem now," one of the Americans says dryly, clapping Will on the shoulder. "We need a break."

"You’re welcome," the other adds.

They turn and leave.

Will doesn’t move. Just kind of hovers there until Mack crosses the room and looks up at him, blinking.

"Hey," Will says, softly.

"Hi."

"They were tired of hearing about you."

Mack snorts, ears going red. "You been driving them that crazy?"

Will shrugs, like it can’t be helped. "You're my favorite topic."

Behind them, someone from Team Canada coughs pointedly. Others are whispering. Mack ignores them.

"You ditch your own team’s day off to come hang out with us?"

"I didn’t ditch. They delivered me."

Mack grins, helpless and a little fond. "Come on then. Sit with me."

He tugs Will toward his usual spot at the table, ignoring the barrage of chirps and comments already flying in their direction.

"You two are ridiculous," someone groans.

"Get a room!"

"They weren’t even subtle about it!"

Will just bumps his knee against Mack's under the table, leans in close and murmurs, "Worth it."

Mack can feel his stupid grin stretch wider. He tries to fight it. Fails completely.

"You gonna spend the whole dinner talking about me again?"

Will grins, unapologetic. "Obviously."

Mack shakes his head, rests his cheek briefly on Will's shoulder despite the public setting, and murmurs, "Good."

He doesn’t even care that everyone’s watching. Not when Will’s right here, where he belongs.

♡