#I have written some of this fic but god of course it's already long

[kaesaaurelia]

3rd Life Space Colonist AU Concepts

So I'm very new to MCYT fandom, in the process of watching everything in the Life Series, but while I was watching 3rd Life I could not get the idea of this group having been sent to colonize an alien planet and it going very wrong.

But before things go wrong, they would have had specific roles and reasons they were picked, so I thought a bit about that, and once I had roles figured out I went and played around in Hero Forge to design the characters.

(Also, obviously there would be more than 14 people on an expedition like this and there's certain types of personnel they'd want more than one of, or who are conspicuously missing from this cast list.

You can make of that what you will.)

So, without further ado: some of the personnel aboard a ship heading to the furthest reaches of the galaxy, sent by totally not evil Mars-based corporation Farlands Planetary Systems:

SPACESHIP FLIGHT & MAINTENANCE

At this point in the future, there are machines that can do incredible things, but none of them can quite replicate whatever's going on in Scar's head human decision-making, and on longer journeys where the ship is required to make multiple FTL jumps in quick succession, human intuition and ingenuity are necessary for survival. To that end, pilots are directly plugged into their ships and to some extent, on longer journeys, become the ship. They need to be willing and able to do terrifying things without hesitation or consultation with others. Scar is great at this. He's also an absolute menace everywhere else, but in all fairness it's very hard for him to remember how gravity works on planets when he's used to using it to slingshot himself around in space.

Etho and BDubs aren't JUST there to maintain the ship mechanically -- they'll be rebuilding humanity's technological achievements from the ground up once they get to the planet -- but they're also vital to maintaining the ship across its long journey. BDubs is especially skilled at working in and navigating through zero gravity environments, and he's very used to doing floating repairs. This should have no lasting consequences for him once they get to a planet.

Tango is... an odd one. He's primarily a computer guy, and he's no slouch there, but he's never been on one of these expeditions himself -- see, his family's owned Farlands Planetary Systems for centuries, since before the Martian atmosphere had been been tamed and the planet's population was only a couple thousand. From his comfortable climate controlled office on Mars, he's looked over proposals, decided which ones were most likely to be successful, and signed off on countless exploration missions. He's watched them leave and mostly come back, and he's never encountered a high-risk high-reward situation he couldn't at least break even on. He's about to.

MEDICAL CARE

There's an extensive medical staff onboard, of course -- or there should be, anyway. I'm sure the others are fine!

Martyn is a generalist, good at figuring out what the hell is going wrong and how to stabilize someone's condition in the field with minimal resources. He's good at making difficult decisions quickly and making the sacrifices necessary for long-term survival.

Grian, meanwhile, is a specialist in neurology, and while he's meant to be looking after the whole crew, he's very important on this expedition because he is specifically a specialist in the connection between pilot and ship, and his task is primarily to keep the pilot alive at all costs.

Grian's also very excited about the pioneering medical procedure he's convinced Farlands to give all the personnel on this expedition, which will allow them to completely regenerate after dying -- at least twice! This has technically been possible for a while, but it's never been this fast, and they haven't been able to allow the subjects to retain their memories and personalities until now. It's still experimental but given the high risk nature and high cost of this particular expedition, he feels it's worth the risk, and most people jumped at having not only a second chance at life, but a third!

EXPLORATION & TERRAFORMING

Once they get to the planet, of course, they're going to need to figure out what's already there, and to transform it into a liveable place! So there are various experts who will explore the planet, conduct a full survey of its resources, and work to make it easier for humans to live there. Here we have experts in population biology, minerology, environmental chemistry, xenobotany, and agronomy.

Joel works for Farlands, usually traveling with his wife Lizzie, (an ethnopharmacologist). BigB tends to work on a contract -- there's a lot of call for minerologists in the outer solar system -- but if this expedition is successful, he'll never have to work again, and he won't have to go through the cycle of spending six lonely months in the Kuiper Belt, returning to Earth, then going back out again. Both of them think they know what they're getting into.

Cleo and Scott haven't worked for Farlands before, and are very surprised to be asked, as they have a shared checkered past. Cleo, in her younger days, was convicted of burning down the Martian Prime Minister's house. In fairness, a. he deserved it, and b. it was extremely flammable, because he destroyed a bunch of oxygen farms to build it, out of wood, and was not much of a believer in fire safety regulations. He was not home at the time, so he was fine, but about a year later he was assassinated. No one has ever been formally charged with the crime, but Scott, being one of Cleo's close friends, was the primary suspect. Both of their careers have suffered because of this -- Cleo can't get tenure anywhere, and Scott actually went into hiding for a time -- and while they don't trust Farlands even a little bit, they do like the idea of going somewhere that has no extradition treaties with Mars.

Like BigB, Jimmy's ready to cash out and settle down on a strange planet. He's going to be making sure people have enough edible food on this new planet, since there's no guarantee it will have edible plants or animals.

EXPERTS IN ALIEN LIFE

There's definitely not intelligent life on this new planet. It would be illegal for Farlands to settle a planet that was already occupied! They would never do anything illegal.

But maybe there used to be intelligent life there. Maybe the preliminary probes were inconclusive? Hmm. Anyway. Skizz is a xenoarchaeologist. He's also the only survivor of an expedition that went out in the early 22nd century; they encountered a strange and apparently hostile aliens. His memories are fuzzy and he doesn't remember much except for a strange floating city in a dark void. He made it back to Earth in a stolen alien ship, but while he was gone several hundred years had passed and now everyone he knows is dead. He's anxious to get back into the field, to a planet that is definitely a different one from the one he was sent to where all his friends died, and there's definitely no living intelligent life.

Impulse has been studying that ship Skizz brought back and he's pretty sure these aliens have figured out a method of stable, instant travel between any two distant points, which needless to say the company wants badly. This world seems to have traces of these

Impulse is a xenotechnologist who's pretty sure he's close to wrapping his brain around a method of stable two-way faster-than-light travel that seems to be in use by a distant alien civilization who may have left traces of themselves on this new planet. The company line is that he's also there just to study any remnants of high-tech alien civilizations, but he doesn't have a very good poker face and everyone suspects he knows something he's not letting on.

ALSO... REN

Ren is not a scientist. Ren is Martyn's husband. He is a relatively successful fantasy author whose first two books have sold well, but now he has to finish the trilogy and it's just. not. happening. Martyn had been planning not to go on this expedition -- has in fact been planning to stop going on lengthy expeditions in general, because he'd like to spend more time at home -- but Ren's so tired of his manuscript at this point that he is willing to pack up and move to another planet to avoid writing. He is anxious that people like him and think well of him and also anxious that they never ask him about the book. Please don't ask him what happens in the book. He thought he knew, but he doesn't.

The great thing about this expedition is that that's going to be the least of his problems very, very soon. (Also, he'll be blessedly relieved of the memory of the book, because, like the rest of the surviving crew, all of them will have very few solid memories of anything by the time they get to the planet. But, gotta look on the bright side, right?)

[saatorus]

she won't go away— a sukuna fic

art creds to to_0fu (twitter/x)

pairing — college sukuna! x reader

synopsis — of all the people in your chemistry course, you get stuck with ryomen sukuna—the most insufferable, arrogant asshole on campus. he barely does any work, runs his mouth like it’s a sport, and somehow manages to make your life even more exhausting than it already is. if this project doesn’t kill you, he just might.

teaser wc — 1.8k (long for a teaser but i'm desensitised to any word count below like 100k words)

actual wc — 20-25k (gonna try and force myself to stick to this and not go into the 30s..)

tag list status — closed! the fic has been posted

warnings — explicit sexual content!!! sukuna being an absolute vile dick and saying questionable shit (i need him to be at least a lil canon compliant), mentions of reader and sukuna telling each other to go die, reader not being meek and letting him walk all over her, mentions of feeling insecure, multiple crash outs, angst?? will add more as i go along!

“That ‘little homework’ is forty five percent of our grade,” you bite out.

“Don’t give a fuck,” he grunts, sounding bored.

You inhale deeply. “So, I was thinking—”

But he groans, dragging a tattooed hand down his face. “Are we seriously doing this now?”

“Yes, we’re seriously doing this now,” you snap.

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring. “God, you’re fucking annoying.”

You’re not sure whether you should be offended or hurt. On one hand, obviously as a normal human being, being spoken to like this from a person you’re quite literally talking to for the first time is bound to hurt your feelings. On the other hand, this guy’s dickhead personality is kind of well known through your university. Your grip on your pen tightens, but you keep your voice even.

 “I’m annoying because I want to pass?”

”You’re annoying because you talk way too fuckin’ much.”

 That stings more than you’d like to admit.

You grit your teeth, ignoring the way your stomach tightens, and push forward anyway. “If we divide the research today, we won’t have to meet up as often,” you say, firmly. “I assume you’ll want to do as little work as possible, so let’s just—”

“Holy shit.” Sukuna pushes his chair back with a loud scrape, fixing you with an exasperated look. “Do you ever shut up?”

You blink, stunned.

Toji snickers.

“Oh, come on,” Sukuna scoffs, throwing up a hand. “You’re gonna sit there all wide-eyed like I just kicked your fuckin’ puppy? You started it.”

Your fingers twitch against the table.

“Started what?” you ask, voice dangerously calm.

“This whole thing—acting like I’m some bum ass delinquent who needs a babysitter.” His eyes narrow. “If you wanna play boss, go find some other loser to be a bitch to.”

Your patience snaps. “Or you could just not be a lazy asshole. Do you lack brain cells? You’ve seriously told me to shut up like 5 times in the span of about ten minutes. Do you have a problem where you can’t focus?”

The air between you shifts.

Sukuna’s jaw tics. His expression darkens, something sharp flashing through his eyes, but then his lips pull into something crueler than a smirk—something with edges, something dangerous.

“You think I’m lazy? Got somethin’ wrong with me because I can’t take your nerdy bitching?” he asks, voice low.

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Glad you have the ability to comprehend what I said.”

That makes him grin. “And you think I’m an asshole?”

“Yes.”

He hums, tilting his head. Then he leans forward, just slightly, elbows resting on the table. His voice drops into something smug, mocking—

“Then why the fuck are you still talking to me?”

Your blood boils.

What the fuck is his problem?

You lean forward too, matching him, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “Because I have to, dumbass,” you snap. “I tried to change my group. I begged. I offered to do extra credit. I would have written a whole goddamn thesis if it meant not sitting across from you—but guess what?” You gesture sharply between you. “I’m stuck with you.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Tragic.”

You let out a frustrated breath, gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles turn white. “So, as much as I’d love to pretend you don’t exist—”

“Then do it,” he interrupts, tone dry.

You blink. “What?”

“If you wanna pretend I don’t exist, go ahead,” he drawls, leaning back lazily. “Do the whole project yourself. You’ll probably enjoy it, since you’re clearly getting off on playing group leader.”

“Oh, my god.” You clench your fists, barely restraining yourself. “Why are you such a dickhead? Parents not teach you basic respect?”

“Because you don’t shut the fuck up,” he snaps, finally looking genuinely irritated.

Your lips part, incredulous. “I’m literally just trying to do the fucking project? Like any normal human being?”

“No, you’re trying to control shit,” Sukuna says flatly. “Like this is some big deal—like I haven’t passed a million of these useless classes already.”

You stare at him. “You think this is useless?”

He smirks. “Yeah.”

Oh, you hate him.

“Some of us actually give a shit about our grades, Sukuna.”

“You know my name? Cute.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, trying to stay calm, trying not to launch your textbook at his stupid, perfect face. “I don’t care how many classes you’ve passed,” you say, voice taut. “You’re doing this one with me. I care about this project. And if I have to suffer through working with you, you can at least pretend to give a shit.”

He tilts his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Mm. No.”

You exhale slowly, trying—failing—to stop your hands from curling into fists.

“I swear to god—”

“What, huh?” he cuts in, voice dripping with condescension. “You gonna whine to the professor again?” He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Pathetic.”

Your jaw tightens.

He grins, like he’s won something. Like he’s getting exactly what he wants—like this is a game to him, something to toy with, something to waste his time on.

And you refuse to let him win.

So, you straighten your spine, lift your chin, and meet his gaze without flinching.

“Fine,” you say, voice steely. “If you want to half-ass this, be my guest. Just don’t expect me to pick up your slack.”

Sukuna watches you, amused, as if he’s waiting for you to crack.

When you don’t, he smirks.

“We’ll see.”

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to keep your voice level.

“Well, unfortunately for you,” you say stiffly, “you actually have to do your share.”

Sukuna snorts. “Says who?”

“The professor.” You cross your arms. “Since apparently, students have been slacking on group projects, we have to submit proof of collaboration—meeting logs, progress updates, actual proof that we’re working together.”

His expression darkens.

You fight the urge to smirk. Suffer.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.

“Nope.” You press your lips together, trying to hold back your pure satisfaction. “So, congratulations, Sukuna. You have to meet up with me at least once a week.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring at you like you’re personally ruining his life. “You’re telling me I have to sit through this shit every week?”

“Yep.”

“You specifically?”

“Yep.”

Sukuna groans, dragging a hand through the unruly pink strands of his hair. Then, just as you’re about to remind him that this is literally his problem for being a shit student, he lifts his head—eyes raking over you in a slow, lazy once-over.

And then, he smirks.

You freeze.

“What?” you snap, immediately on edge.

His smirk widens.

“Nah, I was just thinking,” he drawls, tipping his head back against his chair. “If you were hotter, this would be way less painful.”

Your stomach drops.

The words hit you like a slap, and for a second, all you can do is sit there, stunned, completely caught off guard by how casual—how easy—it is for him to say something like that.

Like it’s just true.

Like it’s a fact.

Your fingers dig into your sleeve.

And the worst part? It’s not even the insult itself that stings—it’s the sheer, blatant dismissal. The fact that he looks at you and immediately decides you’re not worth even pretending to be interested in. As if you were hoping for his attention. As if you were seeking his approval.

You clench your jaw.

“Yeah?” you say, voice flat, emotionless. “Well, if you were smarter, I wouldn’t have to carry your useless ass through this class.”

His grin falters, just barely, but you see it—and for once, it’s your turn to smirk.

You lean forward, matching his posture, tilting your head mockingly.

“Guess we’re both disappointed, huh?”

For a moment, Sukuna just stares at you.

And you don’t miss the way his jaw tightens, how his fingers twitch against the table like he’s fighting the urge to rip you apart.

Good.

Then—he exhales sharply through his nose, tipping his chair back slightly, acting unfazed even though you saw the flicker of irritation in his eyes. “Damn,” he muses, voice slow, dragging. “Didn’t know you had a mouth on you.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “Didn’t know you gave a shit.”

Sukuna scoffs. “I don’t.”

“Then shut the fuck up and do your work.”

He lets out a low, mean laugh, running a hand through his hair. ���You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today.”

“Generous?” You nearly choke. “You’ve been nothing but a dick since the moment I sat down.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Could be worse.”

Oh, you want to strangle him.

Instead, you inhale sharply through your nose, pressing your palms flat against the table before forcing yourself to stay on track. “Whatever,” you say, shaking your head. “Here’s the deal: we have to meet at least once a week. I don’t care where. I don’t care when. But we need to get the work done, and I need proof that you were actually present—because if we don’t, we both fail.”

Sukuna glares at you, as if the very concept of responsibility offends him.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face again. “You’re really gonna be a hardass about this, huh?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t care about failing?”

“Not really.”

Your eyes narrow. “Then why are you even in this class?”

At this, he finally drops his chair back down onto all four legs, leaning in slightly. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he says, voice lower, more serious. “I don’t need this shit. I’m here because my old man thinks I should at least pretend to give a fuck about college.” He smirks, sharp and taunting. “But don’t get it twisted—I don’t actually give a fuck.”

You pause, studying him, trying to piece together the weight behind his words.

Of course, you know he comes from money. Everyone does. The Ryomen family name carries weight, old money, power, prestige—so it makes sense that college, for him, is just some bullshit obligation rather than a means to a future.

Still, something about the way he says it—how bitter it sounds—sticks with you.

Not that you care.

You roll your eyes. “Right. Got it. Poor little rich boy.”

His smirk drops.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then—

“You know what?” Sukuna says, voice eerily calm. “Fine. I’ll meet up with you.”

You blink, a little thrown off by how easily he gives in.

“…Okay?”

“But.” His gaze darkens, and the corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he’s daring you to argue. “You work around my schedule.”

Your stomach twists with irritation. “That’s not—”

“Not my problem,” he cuts in smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t do morning meetups. I don’t do last-minute bullshit. And if you start bitching about how I ‘don’t take this seriously,’” he mocks, voice lilting high, “I will walk out and leave you with an automatic fail. Or whatever the fuck happens to your grade if the other person doesn’t do their part. Got it?”

Your blood boils.

But what can you do? You already tried to get reassigned.

So, through gritted teeth, you say, “Fine.”

Sukuna smirks.

“Good girl.”

a/n: very overused trope but i love college au sukuna. sorry for making him a total asshole but i promise character development!!!!! i looove a good enemies to lovers, as seen with my take on nerdjo lolol!!! also yes this fic is based on "she won't go away" by faye webster and yes this song and it's lyrics will be making a cameo in my fic heheh... hope you all liked the teaser!!

[bless-my-demons]

Scared Of Losing You

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: It was just an accident, what is the infamous big bad Paul Lahote afraid of?

Losing his imprint, that’s what.

Warnings: hurt/comfort followed by fluff of course and curse words - PG-13.

Notes: This is literally just a one-shot that would not leave me alone so I had to get it out! It’s all in reader’s pov with no physical description and gender neutral for the most part I think. I also listened to The Wire by the Vancouver Sleep Clinic while I was writing this, if you want the right vibes✨ enjoy my first Paul fic!

Word count: 1700

Masterlist

Beep… beep… beep…

The constant tone is almost soothing, almost, but not quite - there’s too much pain.

The hospital sheets crinkle as I try to shift to find a more comfortable position, but a soft inhale has my eyes snapping open against the bright light above my bed to search for the source of the sound.

“Sam?” I try to keep my voice low, but it comes out as more of a dry croak.

Sam leans forward in his chair to reach for the cup of ice on the tray near my bed, “Yeah, kid.” He keeps his own voice quiet, but I can hear the tiredness in the deep rumble.

It’s after my first sip of cold water that I take in everyone piled in my room. Embry, Quil, Jared, even Jacob - the boys are sprawled out on various chairs and couches, all completely knocked out and some of them even snoring lightly.

But there’s another, Paul. And my heart beats a little faster taking him in, the heart monitor giving me away.

“He’s been here the whole time, hasn’t even left to shower.” Sam shifts back into his chair positioned next to the foot of my bed, directly across from his best friend on the other side, his eyes worrying over said man. “To be fair, none of us have been able to leave.”

“Sam-” I’m speechless for a few seconds, “what happened?”

He loosens a sigh so deep, it pulls something in my chest. God, how long have I been here? Looking over Paul’s sleeping form, I try to put the pieces together - his head is buried face-down in his crossed arms, leaning on the end of my bed near my left leg, one of his warm hands wrapped around my ankle-my uninjured ankle. His shirt is rumbled, but I can see stubble on his cheek peeking out from where his face is hidden. If it weren’t for the pain, I’d be an absolute hot mess at the physical contact; the way his large hand easily wraps around my ankle, how warm my side is due to the heat emanating from this mountain of a man despite the cold of the hospital room.

“You were in a car accident leaving the reservation after your dinner with Emily. You didn’t text her when she expected you to be home, you didn’t answer your phone and it went straight to voicemail…” I can see the genuine concern on his face as he recalls it, “When we got there, Chief Swan was already on scene.”

“How bad? How long have I been here?” I can feel my throat starting to constrict, my heart rate starting to tick a little faster.

Sam’s eyes flick to the monitor, brotherly worry written all over the creases in between his eyebrows and the hard press of his lips.

“Three days.” This time it’s not Sam that answers, it’s the deep tenor that invades my dreams as well as damn near every waking thought of mine, Paul Lahote.

My head whips to meet his intense gaze so fast that it makes me slightly nauseous, his hand lightly squeezing my ankle in a way that tugs at another string in my chest.

“Going for coffee, I’ll bring you back one.” Sam rises from his seat and I panic slightly, he’s leaving me with Paul. Paul Lahote, the guy I have an insanely intense crush on, the guy that doesn’t do feelings. The panic subsides quickly though, I giggle slightly at Sam trying to wake up and usher the boys still half-asleep out of my room.

The door clicks behind them, silencing their grumbles and their absence echos in the room. Sucking all the air out with their departure, it’s damn near impossible to meet his eyes again.

“Sweetheart.” The tenderness and hush in his voice is unfair, coupled with the gentle swipe of his thumb over the skin of my ankle. Damn, he doesn’t fight fair.

It’s like a magnet, the way my eyes draw back to his. They look so fucking tired and it hurts.

“Three cracked ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a nicked lung, and a broken tibia. Not to mention all the cuts-” he cuts himself off, hands and gaze running over my uninjured leg like he’s trying to reinforce something inside himself.

“Paul-” He stills at his name, eyes closing, inhaling deep. “Paul.”

Finally he turns to me, eyes opening and showing the slightest bit of tears pooling at the edges and its another pang to the center of my chest.

“I’m still here, what are you so scared of?” My voice is small, not sure how to tread this tense situation.

A wet laugh tumbles out as his hands abandon my leg to rub at his temples. “You.” It’s quiet and I almost don’t catch it over the beeping of monitors.

“What?” I ask, my voice taking on an incredulous tone. Surely I didn’t hear him right, right?

“You.” His eyes lock onto mine with full force, face set. “You’ve… you’ve wormed your way in here-” he rubs at his chest like it hurts and my breath hitches, “and I was scared. Am scared.” The pause hitching his breath, the tension is thick, “your car, seeing it flipped… it’s like the world stopped and I couldn’t hear anything-couldn’t think straight, but watching you getting pulled out, I-” his groan of frustration slides over my skin and lodges in my throat with the rest of my guilt. “I-I-”

His stuttering renders me absolutely speechless, Paul Lahote showing feelings? Feelings for me? Is this real life?

“So I haven’t left. Can’t. I can’t even think of leaving this room let alone going home and just being useless-”

“Paul, I’m fine.” I try to reach for his hands, but a stabbing pain in my side stops me, right - the ribs.

“Please don’t do that, don’t say that, you weren’t awake then they brought you in with that fucking tube down your throat-” The tremble in his hands stop his rant, drawing his attention somewhere else. His next words are a whisper, “You weren’t fine and nothing-nothing else matters.”

The conviction in his statement makes my chin wobble.

“Sweetheart,” he rises from his chair and cups my cheeks, mindful of the scratches and bandages. “Sweetheart, please…” the strong thumb swiping over my cheekbone only weakens my thin resolve and a tear spills over.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice wobbles, damn me for not being stronger, but everything hurts and he’s being so vulnerable and-and-and it’s so scary.

He leans down further, forehead pressing to my own, his nose barely brushing mine. My heart rate monitor picks up its cadence once again and that smirk I’ve always loved crinkles the side of his stupid, perfect mouth.

“I’m the one that’s sorry.” His admission confuses me, he’s sorry? “I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner how I’ve felt.”

My heart fully stops functioning and my mouth drops open at this new bit of information.

His lips brush my cheek as they whisper into my ear, “breathe.” My entire body is a live wire as I gulp oxygen down.

“You don’t have to say anything-” his immediate insecurity about his confession is too much.

I cut him off before I lose my resolve, “kiss me?”

His eyes widen comically for a second, as if he didn’t picture the possibility I could return his affections. Silly man.

His fingers gently glide under my chin to tilt it upwards, his eyes searching every inch of my face, like he’s looking for something.

“If you-” his turn to cut me off, his warm lips seal over mine.

Surely I’m dead. I must be, it’s the only logical reason. Either that or this is a really, really nice dream. The immersive kind, where it’s too good to be true. It’s a crime really, for lips to be so full and soft and just right-

The barely audible whimper that leaves my mouth when he pulls away a fraction of an inch is embarrassing. What’s even more embarrassing is the way I reach to chase those lips, but once again my ribs decide to protest the action, goddamnit.

Paul takes pity on me with a chuckle, resealing his lips over mine, thank god. No one should have a mouth this delicious, lips this full and warm. I’m a goner - go ahead and wheel me to the morgue, I can die happy now that I’ve finally found out what it’s like to kiss Paul Lahote.

His hands gently slide into my hair, causing a gasp to punch through from the goosebumps the warm caress pours down my spine. His tongue seizes the opportunity to lick past my lips and I happily swallow the moan he elicits right before he peels himself away.

Backing up and taking a lap around the end of the bed, I catch the flush in his cheeks as he blows out a long breath and grin to myself self-satisfied. I made the Paul Lahote flustered.

“Too much?” I ask, unable to contain myself.

For once he looks like a fish out of water, but before she could scramble a response together, a gentle knock at the door draws both our attention as Emily peeks her head around the edge, “knock, knock.”

Relief at seeing my best friend soothes the burning heat in my cheeks almost immediately.

“Come in.” Paul pushes the chair closer so that he can take my much smaller hand in his, careful of the IV taped to the back of my hand. I can’t contain the butterflies that erupt at the satisfied grin his mouth is set in, eyes glued to our joined hands.

“I’m so glad you’re awake and alright!” Her concerned ramblings fading off as the boys file back in. Sam clapping a hand on Paul’s shoulder and suspiciously empty handed with no promised coffee in sight, but I can’t look away. Not from the man that just flipped my word upside down with a couple words and a kiss.

Part Two

[wavesmp3]

young & stupid

yoon jeonghan x reader (gender neutral)

you think yoon jeonghan is crazy when he asks if you'll pretend to date him, but luckily for him you're just young and dumb enough to agree.

genre: university + fake dating au word count: 14k warnings: alcohol, profanity, some explicit content, mentions of sex, and a very american writer who says soccer instead of football a/n: posted an unfinished version of this like 4 years ago and randomly decided one day a couple weeks ago to finish it. this is the most indulgent fic i have ever written. pls enjoy my birthday gift to myself lolol

Music bursts from every corner of the run-down frat house, chasing after you no matter where you run to escape it. Bodies endlessly spill in from the patio and front entrance, a never ending revolving door of college kids just like yourself looking for some kind of release after a long week of… well, college. But unlike most times you’ve paid a visit to Soonyoung’s frat house on a Friday night, tonight you’ve already decided that you are not going to be having fun at this party.

Soonyoung begged you to come, bribing your appearance with a promise to study with you for the next math quiz. Of course the first thing he does after walking into the house with you is ditch you. But even that, you deal with. You find some friends among the crowd, acquaint yourself with some beer, and almost start to have fun egging on a brewing dance battle. But all that ends the second you turn a corner too fast and are met with a full cup of bright red jungle juice all over your white shirt.

So now, upstairs in a bathroom Soonyoung let you in to, desperately trying to wash out the stains, you make a stubborn decision to not make another appearance at a frat party for the rest of the semester which you’re positive you’ll break by the time midterms are up.

But for now, helplessly staring at your reflection in the dirty mirror, you arrive to the conclusion that this damn jungle juice stain is not coming out. You exit the bathroom into the adjoining room and start grabbing your stuff to walk home.

“Who the fuck are you?” You jump at the voice that’s joined you in the room. You hadn’t even noticed anyone entering. You stare at the figure, mouth open. “How’d you get into my room?”

“Oh my gosh, so sorry,” you apologize in a hurried voice, packing your things up impossibly faster. “Soonyoung let me in. It was just supposed to be a quick thing–Wait no, that makes it sound like we were hooking up. Which we definitely were not. I can promise you that much, lol, not Soonyoung. But no, I just needed the bathroom. Cause this dude and his jungle juice, and…” you look down at your shirt. “Anyways, I was about to go home. I didn’t even–”

“Okay, wait, slow down.” The guy cuts you off. “You know Soonyoung.”

You nod. “Uh, yeah, we’re friends.”

He steps closer, narrowing his eyes at you, and for a moment you think the guy looks a little bit familiar. “And you’re not a stalker?”

This time you squint, jutting your head forward. “A stalker?” He stares at you unwavering. You scoff. “Um. No. Of course not.”

“Oh, okay, good.” He exhales, his previous demeanor falling entirely. “Well, in that case, let me help.” He walks towards one of the dressers, pulling the drawer open to rummage through it.

“No. That’s okay. You don’t have to–”

“Let me. Plus,” he gestures towards the general direction of your shirt without looking up from the drawer, “that can’t be comfortable. And it definitely isn’t flattering.”

You’re too stunned to say anything back. You’re not sure how you’d respond anyways to what you think counts as an insult from the dude who’s also helping you. You study him instead. You’ve definitely seen him around before, but you’re not entirely sure where or when because you probably would’ve remembered someone as attractive as him. He’s tall, soft-faced with longer hair that cuts off right under his ears, and damn is he attractive. In an obvious—in your face, weak in the knees, god this man is beautiful—kind of way. Not that you notice.

“Here.” He throws a tshirt your way, and you catch it between your arms. You both stare at each for a long moment, until he jumps on his heels a little as if he’s suddenly remembered something. “My bad, I’ll turn around.”

You stare unamused at his backside. He really doesn’t think you’re going to change with him in the room does he?

And almost as if he’s reading your mind, he says: “Don’t worry, I won’t peek.” He looks over his shoulder with a crooked, mischievous smile. “I mean unless you want me to.” Your stomach throws itself out the window.

You scoff. “I’ll just change in the bathroom.” You fully expect the guy to be gone by the time you exit the bathroom, but instead he’s still there, sitting at the edge of the bed on his phone.

You clear your throat. “Thanks for the shirt.”

“Oh, yeah,” he looks up from his phone and takes you in. You swear his mouth twitches into a half smile. “It’s no big deal.

You let out an awkward half laugh, half sigh. “So, I’ll get this shirt back to you somehow. Thanks again.”

He nods, still staring at the air around your body with that sickeningly charming half smile. You turn for the door.

“Wait!” You pause, facing the boy again who is now standing up, arm stretched out towards you. He drops it at once like it was never supposed to be there. “Are you going back to the party?”

You actually laugh at that. “God, no. I’m going home.”

“Oh.” He tilts his head, and then opens and closes his mouth as if the words keep getting lost in the back of his throat. You try not to think too hard about how endearing the action is. “I can give you a ride if you want.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, that’s alright. I don’t live that far.” You live on the opposite side of campus.

He grabs a set of keys off his desk. “Let me. I wanna get out of this party too. But sadly,” he motions to the room you’re both standing in, then leans towards you a little, “I live here.”

And you know you should refuse. You know there is nothing sensical about letting this stranger, whose name you don’t even know, take you home. But there’s something about his smile and the tufts of hair falling over his forehead, something about the way he gave you his shirt that makes you say yes against your better judgment.

It turns out, leaving the party with the mysteriously nice guy, who’s conveniently hot (again, not that you’re looking), is much harder than it looks. The only plus side to getting bombarded with people wanting to talk to him, is that you learn his name: Jeonghan. And it hits you then, of course you’ve seen him around before. Well, maybe not him, but you’ve definitely seen his picture. His face is plastered over all of the university’s promotional material. Half the school has a crush on Jeonghan, the star soccer player. Unfortunately for you and your apparently impossible wish to go home, it also appears that half the school is at this party and fueled with liquid confidence.

“Hey Jeonghan,” one person in particular slurs, appearing in front of you and him magically. Yeah, you think, if I were him I’d want to get out of this party too. Then as if the stranger has come to their senses, they jump back and clasp their hands over their mouth. A blush paints itself all over their face. “So sorry. I must’ve tripped or something…” they laugh awkwardly. Jeonghan does too. You look over at him and find that he looks incredibly uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” he tells them, holding his hands up, “I gotta go. See you around though.” And Jeonghan’s turning on his heel ready to dash for the door.

“Wait a second!” The person calls, grabbing Jeonghan’s arm before he can slip out of the house. He turns back around begrudgingly. “I was uh I was sort of wondering if you’d like to maybe go out or something—“

You watch them ask out Jeonghan on a date, and well, it’s sort of cute. The stranger clearly harbors a massive crush on Jeonghan. They’re not being rude or pushy, and honestly, even after accounting for the alcohol, they’re more confident and bold than you’d be. You find yourself wanting to congratulate them. But then, with another look at Jeonghan’s face, you feel a burst of pity. You know that look. Jeonghan is going to turn them down.

“I, uh, I’m really flattered but I…” Jeonghan stutters through his words, shooting you a glance asking for help. You just shrug. Suddenly his smirk reappears. He grabs your hand, pulling you to his slide and lifting your joined hands up like a trophy. “I’m actually with them.”

Your teeth clench immediately to keep your mouth from falling open. You stare at Jeonghan, eyes screaming.

“Oh sorry,” the person looks between the two of you, “I didn’t know.”

You stare at Jeonghan, waiting for him to say something and failing to find any words for yourself. But instead of continuing his lie verbally, he decides to act it out even further, bringing your hands up to his lips and pressing the faintest kiss to your knuckle.

That fucker.

“Yeah,” you sigh, grasping at straws for something to say that sounds convincing with your one free hand. “It’s new.” You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand hard enough to know it has to have hurt and promptly drag him out of the house.

Once you’re in his car, safe from all his suitors. You round on him. “You couldn’t have just said no?”

“That was their third time asking me out.”

“And?”

“Turning down people is hard.” He whines, pushing the keys in the car and starting the ignition. “It was just easier to say we’re dating. Plus, you’re in my shirt so it already looks like we just had sex.”

“Or,” you gasp, exasperated, “it looks like I got jungle juice on my shirt, and you just gave me one to wear!”

He gives you a look. “Now, who would believe that?”

You have the sudden desire to dissolve into the seat.

“Anyways,” he says, putting the car in reverse, “where to?”

“East campus. The Austin Complex.”

He makes a triumphant noise while stopping at a red light. “It appears I’m not the only one that’s been telling lies tonight. Not that far you said.”

You gape at him. “My lie is not comparable to yours.”

“Actually I think it is.” He taps a finger to his chin. “In fact, I think it even makes us equal.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

He holds out his pinky as a peace offering. “I’m not moving until you agree.”

“Jeonghan, the light’s green.”

He glances at the green traffic light and proceeds to turn his hazards on in the middle of the fucking road all while keeping his pinky in the exact same spot.

“Are you crazy?”

“Most people don’t think so.”

“People will honk.”

“It’s 1 am.”

You say his name. He says yours. The light turns yellow, and you feel a rush of warmth.

“Fine.” You huff, joining your pinky with his. “We’re equal.”

He passes the light just as it turns red.

—

You haven’t seen Jeonghan since the entire incident. In truth, you’ve been so busy studying for your math quiz with Soonyoung that you almost hadn’t even thought about that night again. Emphasis on almost. However, when you get your score back the following week, the hours you spent studying appear to have been wasted. You slump into a bench outside the lecture hall, holding another barely passing grade to your chest.

And in the midst of your public wallowing, you feel a flick to your forehead.

You yelp and snap your eyes open to Jeonghan who stands before you snickering. “What was that for?”

“Payback.”

You say holding out your pinky as a reminder. “I thought we were even.” He shrugs, sporting a smirk that makes your stomach churn. It should be illegal for someone to look that good with a smirk.

“Excuse me?”

Fuck. Did you say that outloud?

“Nothing.” You quickly mutter, shaking your head. He invites himself to sit down next to you.

“Anyway, what’s wrong with you?”

You groan at the reminder. “Multi.”

“Multivariable calculus?” He asks to which you nod. “Who do you have?”

“Lubinsky.”

Defying all laws of reason and physics, Jeonghan perks up a bit. “Oh, I loved him.”

“His quizzes are impossible.”

“Yeah, but he’s funny.”

You scrunch your noise. “When did you even take multi? Aren’t you a business major?”

He tilts his head at you. “How do you know my major?” You might’ve asked Soonyoung about Jeonghan during one of your study sessions, but you definitely weren’t about to admit that now. Luckily for you, he continues without an answer. “I switched majors last year.”

“Then you must know how much I despise sketching in three axes.” You complain, throwing your head back against the wall.

“Just wait until you get to finding extrema.” Jeonghan hums. You want to shove your head through the damn wall just from the sound of it.

“May my grade rest in peace in that case,” you mutter, fishing through your bag. “Here’s your shirt back.”

He takes it. “So people kind of think we’re dating after the party.”

You can’t help it. You laugh at the look on his face. “Yeah, what did you expect when you said we were together?” He doesn’t say anything. “Don’t worry. I’ll clear the air.”

He furrows his brows at you. “What? No. That’s not what I mean. I…” he hesitates, scratching an area behind his neck. “Well, this past week has been surprisingly calm for me. Not a ton of confessions.” (“Oh, poor Jeonghan,” you murmur.) He looks at you hopefully, “So, I was thinking we keep up the charade.”

You make a noise. “Like fake dating?”

“Yes.”

“Haha, very funny.”

“No, seriously.” He says earnestly. You don’t say anything for a moment just staring at him flabbergasted. He softens, giving you a very soft, “please,” paired with big, brown, pleading eyes.

Goddamn it–those eyes.

You turn your body towards him. “What do I get out of it?”

“I’ll tutor you.” He says, pointing to your quiz grade. You flip the paper upside down. “I got an A in multi.”

“No one makes an A with Lubinsky.”

“Which is exactly why you want me as your tutor.”

You think about it for a moment longer, and, well…

Fake dating Yoon Jeonghan can’t be the worst thing in the world.

—

As you find out during your first session, Jeonghan is not what you’d call a ‘chill’ tutor. You’re both sitting in a far corner of the library, notes splayed out all over the table.

“Do it again.”

“Jeonghan please, we’ve been finding directional derivatives and unit normal vectors for so long now. Let’s take a break.”

He points to your worksheet. “One more.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I thought you wanted an A.”

“You know, a C isn’t sounding so bad right now.”

“Just do it.”

You groan and set up another integral.

To your complete and utter shock, you’re able to solve the problem all on your own. No clarifying questions to Jeonghan. No flipping through your lecture notes. Just you and the answer.

Jeonghan checks it over, eyes darting between your notebook and his laptop. He pauses for a minute, finger lingering by your boxed, final answer, before very quietly saying, “look at that.” He looks up to you, eyes widened and lips pursed together in a pleasant surprise.

You can barely contain yourself. “It’s right?”

“Well,” he draws out the word, sitting back in his chair and erasing his previous expression. “You still rounded wrong at this step—“

You throw your pencil down. “I’M RIGHT!”

Which unsurprisingly earns you a couple dirty looks from others.

He snickers at your excitement, offering you silent applause at the achievement.

“So can we take a break now?”

He looks at you for a long moment. You stare at him back, shaking your shoulders as if that would convince him of a break. He smiles. “Okay, fine, but only for ten minutes.”

You end up taking it on the roof of the library building, eating an assortment of snacks that you bought from the vending machine and Jeonghan brought from home.

“So, tell me,” you start, grabbing a chip from the bag, “the confessions can’t really be that bad, can they?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean,” you sit up in your chair, stretching out your back, “enough for you to spend your Thursday afternoon doing all this?”

“Ah.” He exhales, sitting down further in his seat and popping a grape in his mouth. “Well, I like to teach.”

“And what about the whole fake dating ruse?”

He shrugs. “It’s easier than being the asshole that says no.”

You lean forward, squinting at him. “I don’t believe that.”

He cocks his head. “No?”

You shake yours. “No.”

“What about you then?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “How come I know nothing about you?”

“How come you haven’t asked?”

He swipes his tongue over his lips briefly, sizing your question up. Quietly, he says, “Touche.” Then leads forward in his seat and asks if you have an ex.

You steal a grape. “Not an official one.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that there was this guy before university, and we were…” you push the grape in your mouth, letting the burst of it give you time to find the right words. They never come. “We were something,” you settle on, “but he just ended up being more trouble than he was worth. Ask Soonyoung. He’s always hated the guy’s guts.”

“I can’t imagine Soonyoung hating anyone.” Jeonghan muses, pushing the tupperware of grapes towards you.

“Yeah, well, Soonyoung hated people who treated others like they were disposable.”

“So why’d you date him then?”

For a moment, you’re taken aback by the question. Replaying the words over and over in your mind looking for a hint of mockery or judgment. You don’t find any. Instead, you find his brows knitted together, and his lips pushed to the side of this mouth. The question is genuine. A wholehearted curiosity that feels so misplaced coming from the guy who has suitors falling at his feet at least once a day. It’s an innocent kind of curiosity that isn’t trying to pry; it’s only trying to understand. And that thought, the very idea that Jeonghan might actually be trying to get to know you, makes your entire body inexplicably shiver.

The curiosity in his voice bends over and touches yours. “What? You’ve never been young and stupid before?”

He shakes his head. “I was so focused on school and soccer when I was younger. I feel like I never gave myself the chance to just do dumb things, date shitty people, etc. etc.”

Gravely, you say. “It’s really not that exciting.”

He laughs. “I know.” His voice dips. “I just wish I had figured that out myself.”

Jeonghan doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it, but he makes this face, this sad-eyed, forced smile face that makes him look so suddenly vulnerable. Like you could tap his shoulder and watch him unravel from head to toe. You feel a rush of pity in the middle of your chest, a quiet urge to reach over and give him all the teenage regrets he never got to have. Instead, you lean towards him and say, “You’re still young. You can still do dumb things. Date shitty people.”

His eyes flit up to you. You notice what a beautiful shade of brown they are. How big they are. How sincerely sad they look. (And you know, somewhere, in a very far corner of your mind, that those eyes will be the ultimate death of you.)

“Well, I don’t know about that last part.” He starts, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “Technically, I’m dating you.”

You place your palm on your chest. “And I swear to be the shittiest fake partner you’ll ever have.”

He smiles. The sun emerges from behind a cloud. And his eyes–you swear to god–they glimmer.

—

You and Jeonghan’s first outing as an official fake couple is back at the frat house. To your surprise Jeonghan stays by your side the entire time. He takes you around the house, gets you a drink, and introduces you to his friends, but you’re quick to shoot down any shock because what else would a fake boyfriend be doing at a party. Although it’s not as easy to calm down the beating of your heart when Jeonghan’s hand finds its way into yours at some point in the night. By the time the party is in full swing, people bursting from every open door and window in the house, you’re already a little tipsy.

You’re getting a refill for your nearly done drink when another girl appears in front of Jeonghan. From the way she’s twirling her hair between her fingers and leaning into one hip, you can tell that, at least from her end, it’s more than just a friendly conversation. But even that doesn’t really explain what makes you act the way you do. Maybe it’s the alcohol, you reason. Or maybe the fact that Jeonghan’s popularity is just as contagious as the rest of him. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that you’ve gotten a little too invested in this whole fake dating act. Either way, you swallow reason with the last of your drink, strut up to the both of them, and latch yourself to Jeonghan’s side, letting your arm wrap around his. You give the girl a snotty ‘sorry, he’s taken’ before dragging Jeonghan away, giggling into your palm with no intention to return. When you look back at Jeonghan, you find him looking quite amused as well.

“That was good!” He tells you by the time you’re both in the hallway. “But you know what would really seal the deal?”

You’re excited. Fake dating is fun. “What?”

“If we kissed?”

“Oh, please.” Your eyes do a drunken loop de loop. “I’m gonna go get my refill.”

“No, seriously.” He says with a look you can’t quite comprehend. “Look. She’s still watching.”

You look beyond his shoulder and sure enough, the girl is still watching you and him in the hallway. And she looks pissed. Maybe Jeonghan wasn’t that far off with the stalker accusation.

“You see what I have to deal with. Just one kiss. We probably won’t even have to do it again after this.”

“Probably?” You echo.

“Well, yeah, I can’t make any promises.” He shrugs except that you barely hear the words because you’re too focused on taking a tiny step back each time he takes a tiny step towards you. Eventually, the charade ends. Your heel and head meet the wall. His knee meets yours.

You’re painfully aware of your own breathing when you say, “When I said to be young and stupid this is not what I meant.”

He giggles in your face. You can smell the vodka on his breath. Is he drunk? Are you?

“Who’s going to believe we’re dating if we never kiss?”

And well, you can’t really argue with that logic. “Fine, but keep it short.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Do I look like the kind of guy to keep a kiss short?” You snort at that, and when he takes yet another step closer to you, your hands instinctively fly up against his chest. He tangles his fingers between yours and pulls your hands down, resting his forehead against yours. “Hey,” he says except that he’s so close it’s more like he exhales the word and inhales you, “can I kiss you now?”

He lets go of your hands, as if he’s making sure you know you have an out. Your eyes flit up to his, only to find that he’s watching your lips.

“Oh, fuck it,” is what you say before you fist his shirt and pull him in so that his lips meet yours.

And the moment you do all of your previous precautions are thrown out the window because—dang how long has it been since you’ve kissed someone?

Somewhere along the kiss, you lose yourself in the sensation of it, tugging on Jeonghan’s shirt. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in until your bodies are flush against each other. And when he slips his tongue into your mouth you tell yourself you allow it to happen because you’re tipsy or touch starved or both. Although none of those excuses explain why your arms snake around his neck and why your entire body turns to jelly when he moans in your mouth.

“Hey lovebirds,” you hear Soonyoung yell from somewhere thousands and thousands lightyears away, somewhere so far away you barely hear it, “get a room.” You both pull away from the kiss, faces only moving a tiny bit apart. Neither of you try to remove yourselves from the other's arms. He smiles, wide enough that his cheek brushes up against your nose, and it makes you forget where you are. Your ears betray you. You let yourself think he’s talking about the kiss and not the charade when he says, “Thanks for that.”

You throw caution to the window, laughing freely against his face. “Asshole. You knew I wouldn’t say no.”

He steps back, pulling away from your embrace. “Yeah,” he mutters, looking back to the main room, “that should do it.” You follow his eyes to see the girl from earlier whispering to a friend while sneaking glances at you two. You’re reminded of the whole reason you and Jeonghan were kissing in the first place.

He points to your cup. “Shot?”

You laugh—or well at least you try to—but it gets caught in your throat and distorted into a small cough. You swallow. “Yes.”

—

Thankfully, things aren’t awkward between you and Jeonghan after the party, although there’s no real reason for there to be other than the fact that you agreed to fake date him without really thinking about what else it would implicate. In fact, things are sort of easy with Jeonghan. He finds you around campus more often, and you find him too, walking each other to class and grabbing coffee when you both have a spare moment. In the midst of getting a fake boyfriend, you also get a new friend. With Jeonghan’s help, you actually start understanding math enough to complete the homework without having to flip back to the textbook every question. And it’s not too long after the party that you’re planning your next outing as a couple.

—

The stands of the field are absolutely packed with people. You had no idea soccer games rallied this much interest at your school.

“We’re playing a top ranked school apparently,” Soonyoung reads off a sign as you both make your way towards the student section. Luckily, he knows as little about the sport as you do. “So, why exactly did you agree to fake date Jeonghan?”

“He’s tutoring me in multi.” You explain to him, scanning the stands. While walking over to the game, you had told Soonyoung about the whole act, confirming what he already started to suspect when you first suggested going to the soccer game together. (“Drunken makeout I get.” Soonyoung had said. “But going to his games seemed like a stretch.” You shoved him off the sidewalk.)

“At least you’re getting something out of it.” He snorts. “Who are we looking for?”

You show him the text from Jeonghan, telling you to sit with his friend. “Do you know him?”

Soonyoung looks into the crowd. “Him?” He asks, pointing to a guy waving you and him over. You inhale sharply, waving back. “So if it’s fake, why is Jeonghan having you meet his friends?” Soonyoung asks as you head over.

“He has his reasons.” You offer, having asked a similar question yourself. You reach the stand where his friend is seated, crossing past the others in the row and gently apologizing as you bump into dozens of knees.

“Hi, I’m Joshua.” Jeonghan’s friend introduces himself as you and Soonyoung take your seats. You return the greeting, introducing yourself to him. Looking around the student section, you notice everyone else dressed in school merchandise. “Was I supposed to wear school colors for this?”

Soonyoung gives you a long look. Then just laughs in your face.

“Asshole.” You grumble quietly. “Could’ve said something.”

Joshua laughs as well, although much less in-your-face than Soonyoung’s. “I’m surprised Jeonghan didn’t give you like a jersey to wear or something.”

You had meant the asshole in question to be Soonyoung, not Jeonghan, but you don’t really have the heart to correct him. Instead, while waiting for the game to start, you ask, “How do you know Jeonghan?”

“Oh, we met freshman year. We both rushed the frat together, but I dropped after one semester.” Soonyoung pops in then, telling Joshua about when he rushed, and the two boys talk about other people they both mutually know. As one does.

They run out of people after a person named Jihoon. Joshua turns back to you. “How did you and Jeonghan meet? I haven’t even gotten the full story yet.”

“We met through Soonyoung, technically, I guess. At the house during a party. Soonyoung let me into his bathroom.”

Joshua nods, and with a playful lilt adds, “not a stalker, are you?”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and turn back to Soonyoung on the other side of you. “I hope you know I’m never beating the stalker allegations because of you.”

Soonyoung smiles smugly at you.

“No, I’m kidding,” Joshua says through a laugh hidden behind his palm. “I just know how paranoid Jeonghan is about that stuff now.”

The wording pokes at a corner of your mind. “Now?”

Joshua nods, solemnly almost. “He actually had one last year. Didn’t end up being anything seriously endangering luckily. But he barely left his dorm for the rest of the semester after all was said and done.”

You think back to your conversation with Jeonghan on the roof of the library. You feel a familiar pang of pity bloom in your chest. He never got to just be young. Outloud, you hear yourself saying, “stupid.”

Joshua leans towards you. “What?”

You wave it off, and the crowd erupts into cheer. Everybody starts standing up, yelling and jumping and whooping. You hesitate for too long obviously. Soonyoung pulls you up by your arm. You see the team rush the field and the crowd gets impossibly louder. You look for Jeonghan among the players scanning each of them until you find him towards the left side of the field, warming up or something. You’re not really sure. Either way, you hear yourself start cheering when you find him, hands cupping around your mouth. The game starts soon enough with Joshua explaining to you and Soonyoung which position Jeonghan plays and what the hell is happening each time a player receives a card. After the first 15 minutes, you actually get a pretty good understanding of the whole thing.

The first half comes to a close with the opposing team up by one goal and Jeonghan’s team looking exhausted and dispirited.

“Hey, I gotta head out.” Soonyoung tells you once everything has settled down for halftime. “Still have to finish that chem lab due tonight.”

You grimace at the reminder of the report. “Good luck. It took me 5 hours.”

He gives you a miserable thumbs up. Then, turns his attention to Joshua. “It was nice to meet you.”

Joshua returns the sentiment. “I’ll see you at Tim’s once you’re done with the report though, right?”

Soonyoung’s lips turn to a fine line. “I, well, it’s a funny story but uh…”

“He’s banned from Tim’s.” You finish for him.

Joshua does not hide his shock. Soonyoung just shrugs and walks off. Joshua turns to you, exasperated. “But it’s the only bar in town.”

You inhale, “And Soonyoung is the type to get impulsively banned from it for the rest of college.” The answer doesn’t seem to do much of anything for Joshua’s profound confusion. “What’s at Tim’s tonight?”

“Oh, the team always goes there after games. They normally invite some friends too. Whoever can make it out basically.” You nod at his explanation, watching as people leave the stands then return, holding steaming, paper cartons of food. God, that smells good. You crane your neck to see. Are those corn dogs? “Did Jeonghan not tell you about it?”

“What?” He pulls you out of a trance of your own. “Oh, yeah, yeah. I think he mentioned it. I probably just forgot.”

Joshua chuckles politely. “So are you coming?”

Oh crap. “Uh, well…” A million lies run through your mind, chasing past one another, zigzagging in your brain. You have homework. You have other plans. You and Jeonghan aren’t even actually dating. Well—a million lies and one truth you guess. Either way, they all fizzle to nothing. Jeonghan didn’t tell you about the tradition at Tim’s. He probably doesn’t even want you there. So what the hell are you supposed to tell his best friend?

Luckily, you never have to figure that out. Fanfare erupts through the crowd, the announcer sounds throughout the entire field. “Oh the game’s restarting,” you mutter. Joshua is either genuinely disinterested in your response or just polite enough to not ask about it again. You have a crummy feeling it’s the latter.

The second half of the game is much more intense than the first. Your school’s team comes out blazing, scoring a goal in the first ten minutes in an insane effort led by the player with a 7 on his back. And the crowd, you included, absolutely lose their shit. You’re jumping up and down on the stands, screaming at the top of your lungs, voice lost among the rest. The team rushes to the right corner of the field closest to the student section, colliding in hugs and jumps and screaming maybe even louder than the hundreds of you in the stands. You watch Jeonghan in the celebration, hair matted down with sweat, mouth ajar in a soundless cheer, embracing a teammate before ditching him to literally jump on top of another. Your yells turn to laughs. And before you know it, the game is back on, all players racing across the field in a mad dash. The ball goes flying. Penalty cards flying to nearly every player at least once. The entire student section is at the edge of their seats. Time seems to fly by with unified chants filling your ears and throat. There’s only 10 minutes left. The game is still in a tie, and you really don’t feel like sitting here for the extra time. Then, someone starts singing the school’s fight song. Eventually, the whole section is singing it. You included. It ignites something in the team.

The opposing team has the ball, dribbling it across the field and passing it back and forth. Out of nowhere, one of your school’s players appears right next to the opponent with the ball. He kicks the ball out from under the other player, taking him and the rest of the stands by surprise. The ball rolls from under his knees to another of your school’s players. Jeonghan’s teammate is in action immediately, sprinting away with the ball to the opposite side of the field, feet flying faster than your mind can even comprehend. And just as one of the opposing team’s members closes in on him, he punts the ball in the air and it flies and flies and flies. Your heart lurches. There’s no mistaking it–the ball is aimed for Jeonghan. 7 minutes left. Jeonghan receives the ball perfectly, immediately racing away with it towards the goal. An opponent chases after him, forcing him to head nearer and nearer to the touchlines. It all happens so fast. The other player kicks his feet out to steal the ball. Jeonghan crosses the ball over to another teammate. The teammate receives it with his head. He dribbles it forward for half a second and then shoots. Time nearly stops when he does. The goalie throws their entire body to block the ball, and every present body watches, stupefied, as the ball blows right past the goalie’s head and lands squarely within the goal.

And if you thought the previous goal’s celebration was loud, this one’s is deafening. The entire stadium roars in pride. Your school won. Jeonghan won. And you can’t stop fucking smiling.

—

Joshua convinces you to wait for Jeonghan and the rest of the team at Tim’s with him. You do. For matters of fake dating but also because you could really use a beer. Conversation with Joshua is fun and light. By the time you’re both on your second round, his politeness dims to tease you for your drink of choice. You see now why he’s one of Jeonghan’s closest friends.

There’s commotion towards the entrance. You turn your heads towards it and watch Jeonghan’s team rumble through the tiny door, yelling at god knows what and rushing to the bar.

Joshua stands to go say hi. You follow him, walking slightly behind. Jeonghan finds you before you both find him. He tackles Joshua first, hugging him from the side, and literally ‘whooping’ into his ear. Joshua smacks at his face at first, but eventually joins him in the repeated ‘whooping’ jumping up and down in celebration. Then Jeonghan sees you. The whooping fades. He stares.

You swallow.

“Yah!” He exclaims, releasing Joshua and pointing a finger at your shirt. “I thought I told you to wear the jersey I gave you.”

Your face drops. Whatever happened to ‘hi’, ‘hello’, ‘how are you’?

Joshua says something about the bathroom and walks to the back of the bar.

You shake your head at the remaining boy. “It’s a little bit concerning how good you are at lying, you know.”

“Well, we can’t have people suspecting us.” He retorts, stepping closer to you as someone passes behind him.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You ask, quiet enough for no one else to hear, face scrunching. “I didn’t know what to say to Joshua earlier, but I can definitely make up a lie if you want to just–”

“Are you kidding?” He grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “I want you here! We have to celebrate. This was the biggest game of the season, and we won it!” Then, with that same crooked smile you noticed upon first meeting, he adds, “Plus, you’re not very good at lying.”

You scoff. “Even now, you have the capacity for assholery.”

His eyebrows zip together. “I don’t think that’s a word.”

“It could be.”

Someone pats Jeonghan on the back, handing him a drink. Jeonghan asks what it is. The other person tells him to just drink it. Jeonghan does so begrudgingly. You recognize the person to be player number 7.

“Hi, I’m Seungcheol,” number 7 says to you, holding out his hand. You shake it, introducing yourself and congratulating him on the game.

“Hey, is assholery a word?” Jeonghan asks his teammate, watching your face contort through a thousand different variations of annoyance and disbelief.

Seungcheol looks between the two of you. “Uh, no. Don’t think so.”

“Ha!” Jeonghan wags a finger in your face. “You owe me a drink.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but you head towards the bar with Jeonghan anyways, where you find Joshua again ordering the three of you a round of shots. “No, no,” he insists, when you try to tell him that you’re already buying drinks, “I owe Jeonghan a drink anyways.”

And as you find out throughout the course of the night, apparently every other patron at Tim’s owes Jeonghan a drink. You lose count of how many times you’ve heard him say so after your third beer. Joshua makes his exit soon after that and conveniently right before the team starts singing the fight song again. You start dreaming of bed when a guy you recognize as number 3 gets on a chair and starts leading the crowd.

Your phone buzzes.

Soonyoung [1:23 AM]: finished the report :0

Soonyoung [1:23 AM]: finally

Soonyoung [1:24 AM]: how’s tim’s

You [1:24 AM]: did you know they had a karaoke machine?

Soonyoung [1:25 AM]: do you not remember how i got banned in the first place

You [1:25 AM]: sore subject mb

You [1:27 AM]: damn how’d you finish the report so fast

You [1:27 AM]: you only started it after the game right

Soonyoung [1:28 AM]: u know me xD

An odd feeling settles in your stomach as they start the last stanza of the fight song. You shove your phone in your pocket and ask for the check.

By 2 am, the celebration is finally winding down, and the entire team is collectively too drunk to stand. “Come on, Jeonghan,” you pull him away as he says goodbye to his friends for the millionth time. “Let’s go home.”

He finally relents, turning away from his friends and throwing both his arms over your shoulders, hugging you from the back. “Let’s go to yours.”

“Mine? Why?”

“It’s closer.” Then after a moment, he bumps his chin against your shoulder and adds, “Plus, I wanna see your room.”

“Fine,” you huff and start walking. Jeonghan releases himself from your back, electing to walk on his own until you realize he’s too much of a wanderer to be unattached, drifting off to the edge of the sidewalk or in the wrong direction every chance he gets. He asks you to carry him. You settle for holding his hand. The two of you walk quietly back to your dorm. That is until Jeonghan starts humming the fight song again. You snap. “Is that the only song you guys know tonight?”

He stops humming and apologizes. You don’t say anything back. Then, very quietly, sounding so infuriatingly innocent, he says, “I didn’t mean to get this drunk.”

You’re an asshole. “No. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m just a little… upset right now.”

He burps. “Because of me?”

The look on his face when he says it pulls a laugh from between your lips. “No. Not because of you.” You make a right onto your street, dragging Jeonghan along as he tries to take a left. “Anyway, I thought student athletes weren’t supposed to drink.”

“No, we’re not supposed to get caught drinking.” Jeonghan holds out his hand in front of him, as if to say ‘stop’ to something invisible to you. “Very different.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Either way, I don’t drink that much.”

You scoff, stopping in front of the door to your building. “What do you mean? You drank last weekend.”

He shakes his head. “That was a special occasion.”

“And the occasion was…?”

He looks you dead in the eye.

“You make me nervous.”

Then, he turns around and vomits into the bushes behind him.

Once you get him to your apartment and in your bathroom, you leave him to vomit out the alcohol. Returning after the retching sounds recede and you’ve changed into pjs. He’s seated on the floor beside the toilet, eyes closed and head resting against the wall. You sit on the other side. Thank god, you cleaned this bathroom yesterday. “How do you feel?” You ask him.

He inhales. “Much better now that I…” He gestures to the toilet.

“Here.” You hand him a glass of water.

He opens his eyes and takes it, drinking from it slowly. “Sorry I got so drunk.”

“You already apologized 30 times on the way up here.” You remind him.

“But I’m really sorry.”

“And I really don’t mind.”

He considers that for a long moment. “You sure?”

You lean forward. “I’m sure. More water?”

He shakes his head, wordlessly eyeing your pajama pants. You look down at your snoopy pants. You hadn’t thought too hard about your choice of bottoms when you changed. “Cute.” He mutters, smiling at them.

You mumble back a ‘thanks’.

“So, what’d you think of the game?”

You tell him honestly how much fun you had watching them play, giving him every reaction you had to every move made and all your unfiltered opinions on the refs. He listens intently, filling you in on all the thoughts that ran through his head while they were playing and every conversation that happened on the sidelines.

“Thanks for coming.” He tells you once you’ve both exhausted all opinions relating to the game itself. “And for meeting Joshua and coming out to Tim’s afterwards and then getting me out of Tim’s too.”

“Jeonghan, it’s really not that big of a deal. And Joshua was a lot of fun to hang out with.”

“Hey, don’t get too attached.” He warns. “I’m the one you’re fake dating.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“So, then, as your fake boyfriend,” he gulps down the last of the water, “are you going to tell me what you were so upset about?”

You exhale, flexing your fingers. “It’s stupid.”

“And here I was thinking we had made a pact to be young and dumb.” You run your tongue over your top row of teeth, holding back a smile. “So, what happened?”

“I just got this text from Soonyoung that he finished this one assignment. And, I don’t know, I just felt so ridiculous because it took me so much longer than him to do.”

“Which assignment? The chem lab?”

You don’t remember telling Jeonghan about it. “Uh, yeah. How did you–”

“Man, who cares if it took you longer? I know Soonyoung, and I know you, and I bet yours is a million times better than his. No offense to Soonyoung, but I’m pretty sure he’d agree anyways.”

“Okay, you’re drunk.”

“That may be true, but it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re brilliant.”

Something about the way he says it, how steady his voice is maybe or the way he refuses to look away, forces you to see how much he believes it. But even that, doesn’t do much to change what you think.

“What are you talking about? I wouldn’t even be passing multi if it weren’t for you.” Your voice cracks as you say the words, making it all come out sounding much sadder than you had intended it to. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“That’s really not true.” You can’t even trust yourself to respond to him. He pouts. “Are you upset again?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s drop it.”

“Gladly.” Then, after a moment, you laugh at how silly it all is.

“First fight of the relationship.” He gives you your second half smile of the night. “I think we should hug it out.”

Your body reacts to the words before you do. “I disagree–”

“Did you just cringe?”

“–you smell like vomit.”

“Well, do you have clothes for me?”

“No, but I have a couch.”

He holds his index finger up. “I’ll take it.”

—

(When you wake up the next morning, Jeonghan’s gone. You open your phone and find 2 more apologies and 3 more thank you’s from him.

You try to ignore the twinge of disappointment.)

—

When the third weekend of fake dating rolls around, you admittedly are a bit tired of going to parties and getting drunk. So when Jeonghan asks what the plans are, you suggest he say that he’s taking you out on a date instead.

As such, you’ve spent nearly the entire day in bed. You’re heating up some water on the stove to make ramen when you get a text from Jeonghan saying he’s five minutes away. You stare at the text. The fuck does that mean?

Unsurprisingly, it ends up meaning that he was literally five minutes away. You open the door when he knocks and stare at him standing in the doorway.

“What are you wearing?” Is the first thing he says. You look down at your outfit. “You should’ve told me this was going to be a sweats kind of date before I put real clothes on.”

“Date?”

“Don’t look so surprised, it was your idea.” Jeonghan reminds you, strutting into your kitchen.

“No, no.” You say, returning to your boiling water. “My idea was to tell people we’re going on a date. Like as a cover.”

“Oh.” He falls down onto your couch. “Well I’m here so get dressed there’s this new ramen place I wanna try.”

You sigh, turning the stovetop off before trudging to your room to change.

The ‘date’ ends up being quite nice. You discuss a study plan to prepare for your math midterm over a much yummier bowl of ramen than you had planned on consuming today. Afterwards, you walk the streets of downtown, only intending to window shop. However, now, standing in a small boutique, Jeonghan tries to convince you to buy matching necklaces.

“Come on, they’re so cute.”

“We don’t need matching necklaces, Jeonghan.”

“A real couple would definitely have matching necklaces.”

“Good thing we’re not one.”

“Fine then. Guess I’ll just stop tutoring you in math too. You know Lubinsky’s midterms are almost as hard as his finals, right?”

You grab two of the necklaces and turn to the cashier. “How much?” You swear you hear Jeonghan whoop from behind you.

—

“Hey,” Jeonghan whispers, “we’re here.” You open your eyes slowly, not even registering that you fell asleep on the ride back to campus after the date-but-not-date. “You drool when you sleep by the way.”

And that wakes you up. You wipe whatever drool is left on your mouth, muttering a small and embarrassed ‘shut up’.

“What are you doing for the rest of your day?” He asks as you gather your things from his car.

“Absolutely nothing. Today’s the last day to rot before midterm prep starts.” You tell him, looking for your wallet. “What about you?”

“Avoiding a mixer at the house tonight.” He reaches into the center console and hands you the leather slip.

You take the wallet gratefully. “Wanna join me? We can make some tea. Watch a movie.”

He puts the car in park. “I know just what we should watch.”

And that’s how you end up on your couch with Jeonghan, two emptied mugs sitting on the coffee table, blanket draped over your legs, and the worst movie you’ve seen to date playing in the background.

“Wow, this movie sucks ass.”

“This,” Jeonghan gestures passionately to the screen, “is cinema.” You clasp your hands together as if in prayer. He takes a double take at the motion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m thanking god that your major is business and not film.” He immediately smacks apart your hands. “Don’t lie.” You say gasping for air between laughs. “This movie is objectively not good.”

His tongue peeks out between his lips, you practically see the smiling begging to emerge on his face. “Okay, so it might not be all that it was hyped up to be, but–”

“Ha!” You point a finger in his face. “I knew you hated it.” He slumps into the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin. “Do you want more tea?” You ask. He soundlessly nods, refusing to move his eyes from the tv screen.

You stand to make some, grabbing both mugs from the table. “So, do you not have a roommate?” Jeonghan questions, as you pour water from the kettle into the mugs.

You look to the second, empty room of your apartment style dorm. “Actually, no. There was supposed to be someone there, but they moved or dropped out at the start of the year and the school never filled the room.”

“Ah.” Jeonghan clicks, nodding as if finally putting together the last piece of a puzzle “So, that’s why you’re so friendless.”

You return to the couch with full mugs. “I am not friendless.” He makes a face. “Really. I have friends.”

“Other than Soonyoung?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, name them.” You kick him under the blanket. “Fine. You have friends.” (“I have friends.”) “But how come you never talk about hanging out with them?”

You exhale slowly, sinking further into the couch. “I just didn’t do too well in school last semester, so I promised myself I would focus on classes this time around. And, I don’t know, I guess I just got so caught up in that and haven’t really been making the time or effort for hangouts.”

He tilts his head. “You know, I feel like there’s a world where you can do well in school while also maintaining your friendships. I mean we see each other regularly.”

“That’s because half of the time we’re studying.”

He gives you a look. “You know what I mean.”

You sigh, considering his point. Maybe at one point you would have thought the same. Last semester you even tried to have it all–the friends, the social life, the grades. But in the end, you dropped the ball. You can’t afford to make those same mistakes. “I just don’t think that world exists for me.”

He finally looks away from the tv and gives his full attention to you. His eyes seem to linger on every turn in your face. Quietly, he says, “So that’s what it is.” He doesn’t offer an explanation immediately. Instead, his chest deflates in one long exhale, and you smother the voice in your head that’s begging you to ask for one. And there’s this conviction in his voice, this breathtaking finality, when he says, “When are you going to believe me when I say that you’re one of the smartest people I know?” that scares the living shit out of you.

He looks at you again, and you swear to god, his eyes fall right through your frame. You swallow. “What about you?”

His eyebrows raise. “What about me?”

“Who are your friends? How do you spend all your time apart from classes, soccer, the frat, tutoring me and–oh my god, nevermind, new question. Do you even sleep?”

He takes a sip from the tea. “Don’t forget the business honor society. I’ll be the treasurer next fall.”

You squint at him. “Why?”

And like it’s the simplest, most obvious thing in the world he says, “oh, well, they asked.”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of all the times you’ve seen him get asked out on dates followed by every time he’s failed to say no. “Jeonghan,” you turn to him, setting down your mug. (“oh, this is serious, okay.”) You ignore him. “Can you not say no to people?”

He blows a raspberry. “I can say no. Ask me something.”

“Uhhhh,” you rack your brain, “how about–let’s go to the beach next weekend.”

The closest beach is 5 hours away, and yet he has the audacity to say, “Wait, that sounds like fun though.”

“I thought you hated the ocean.”

“Yeah, but maybe it’d be fun with you.”

You shake your head, muttering how impossible he is. The end credits of the movie finally plays.

“I should head out.” Jeonghan says, removing himself from under the blanket. You nod, grabbing the mugs of tea and bringing them to the kitchen. He follows you to the door. You both exchange the usual ‘this was fun’, ‘let’s do it again’, ‘I’ll see you later’ that ends every hangout you’ve had in college. But then, unlike every other person you’ve held the door open for as they leave, after Jeonghan says his final goodbye, he gives you a peck on the lips.

Did that just happen?

Your fingers touch against your lips. Oh my god, it did.

He blinks. “Sorry. I, uh, I don’t know why I just,” he points to your lips, swallowing, “lol. We’re always pretending and then now. And you. Okay, well, anyways, I’ll leave.”

He turns and doesn’t look back. You hear a ‘bye’ sound from the hallway.

And it’s only by the time he’s probably halfway home that it hits: You’ve never seen Jeonghan flustered like that.

—

The first day of midterm prep is brutal. You spend the entire night in the library, studying for hours on end. And once an hour, on the dot it seems, you hear Jeonghan’s voice in your head. There’s a world where you can do well in school while also maintaining your friendships. That very night you text your friends, asking if they want to join you in one of the library study rooms you have booked every evening this week. They do, excited to hear from you again and for the gentle encouragement to get a head start on studying. You hate to admit that Jeonghan was right, but goddammit he was. You have a blast with your friends. You had barely even realized how long you’d gone without seeing them and how much you missed them. By the time your Thursday afternoon tutoring with Jeonghan comes back around, you’re still on track with the study plan you created over ramen, and you have exciting news for him.

“A birthday party?” Jeonghan says, voice carefully devoid of the disdain you must know he feels.

“Yeah, they heard through whoever that we’re dating, and now they all want you to come.”

“But a birthday party?” He repeats. This time not trying to hide anything.

“Oh come on. I went to the game for you.”

“Yeah, but the game was fun.”

“This will be fun too!” You say in what you hope is an encouraging way.

“Fine. But promise you won’t ditch me for your friends.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You mutter. “But yes, I promise.”

That Friday night Jeonghan meets you at your apartment and the two of you head over to the party together.

Halfway down the hallway to your friend’s apartment, Jeonghan suddenly halts. “Shit, should I have brought something?”

“Like what?”

“A gift? Wine? I don’t know.”

“Jeonghan, it’s a party. Don’t overthink it.” You tell him, opening the door to your friend’s apartment.

You step into her entryway and immediately feel like you’ve been transported into another world. The lights are all off save for some LED lights wrapped around the living room ceiling. An assortment of stacked red solo cups, yak-worthy bottles of vodka, and seltzers take over all available kitchen counter space. Some old pop song from an artist you know your friend loves plays loudly from the tv, reverberating through every pair of ears shoved into this tiny apartment. You inhale. The air reeks distinctly of college. You love it.

“Oh my god, there’s even people on the balcony.” Jeonghan whispers in your ears. You pivot your head around to look at him. He looks back at you, unassuming. “What?”

This entire scene is one you’re quite familiar with, having spent many nights just like this in previous semesters. But as you watch Jeonghan gape at the amount of people fitted into the kitchen alone, you figure he might not be as acquainted with this. “Yoon Jeonghan, is this your first apartment party?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Is it not yours?”

But before you can tell him all about the life you used to live before him, your friends find you attacking you with hugs and introducing themselves to Jeonghan.

Jenny, the birthday girl in question, sloppily points at both of you and says, “I’ve been drinking since noon. You need to catch up.”

After a minute of half-hearted protest, you oblige, heading over to the kitchen area. You grab two cups, handing Jeonghan one. “There’s soda over there if you’re not drinking tonight,” you tell him, pointing to the area beside the sink where a line of mixers await.

He looks over at the bottles, then looks back at you. “Are you drinking?”

“Yes!” Your friend Daniel yells from over the music. You just shrug, reaching for one of the handles. “I guess so.”

Jeonghan inhales sharply, holding out his cup for you to pour. “I’ll have what you’re having then.”

You hesitate, open bottle hovering over the lip of his cup. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Why?”

You frown. “I was thinking about what you said after the game about how you don’t drink that much, and I don’t want you to drink just because I am. I can not drink too.”

He pushes his cup up. “What was it you said earlier? It’s a party. Don’t overthink it.”

Then he gives you that crooked half smile that you’ve come to know so well. You pour him a drink and pour yourself one too. You turn back to your friends, holding up your cup for a cheers.

“Wait, wait, what are we cheersing to?” Daniel asks, grabbing his cup from behind him and holding it up, tapping on Jenny’s shoulder for her to do the same.

It’s Jeonghan who answers. Looking straight at you, he holds his cup up high and says, “To friends.”

You bring the drink up to your lips smiling, watching him watching you. All four of you down your drinks. The drink is absolutely terrible, burning a path down your throat all the way down. Jeonghan hands you another cup, whispering ‘it’s coke’ with an equally pained expression on his face. You take it gratefully.

“God,” Jenny says, placing a hand on her chest while watching the exchange between you and Jeonghan, “they’re like an old married couple already. How have we missed all this?”

“I know.” Daniel says, shaking his head. “I can still barely believe it.”

You glare at him. “Hey, what’s so hard to believe?”

They both ignore you, turning their attention to Jeonghan instead.

“So, we’ve heard all the boring–how you guys met, first date–sort of stuff, but we want to know the juicy details–”

“Jenny, don’t you have other guests to attend to or–”

“Yeah,” Daniel joins in, “like what’s your favorite thing about them?”

You turn to Jeonghan immediately. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“My favorite part,” Jeonghan starts, ignoring your plea to not humor them and tapping a finger on his chin in thought. He must find it after a moment, pausing the tapping and stealing a glance your way. “Probably how much fun I have with them.” He says to your friends. “I feel like we’re always laughing together or just having a good time. I’ve never been able to talk to someone as easily as I do with them. Like you know how when you get towards the end of a really good book, and you just can’t put it down, pushing everything else to the side to keep reading. Hanging out with them is like that.” Turning back to look at you, he adds, “I never want it to end.”

You hold his gaze while Jenny and Daniel erupt into a series of awes and exclamations. Deep in your gut, you know that you should be focusing on the kind smile on his face or the sudden rapidity in your heartbeat, but instead, more cruelly, you wonder how much of that was a lie he made up to appease the role of your fake boyfriend.

You turn to pour yourself another drink. He holds his cup out as well. You pour for two.

“You okay?” He asks, pouring some fruit punch into both your cups as well.

You nod. You have no reason to be upset. So taking a sip of the drink, you decide you’re not. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“We should play a game,” he says, taking a sniff of your jointly made concoction.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like…” He looks around the apartment. “We have to drink every time we see someone kissing.”

“What kind of rule is that?”

“No. It’ll be fun.” He says, scanning the apartment again. He sucks in air between his teeth. “Damn, I thought there’d be more kissing than this for some reason.”

You laugh at his cluelessness, and then lean in to kiss his cheek. “There.” You say, clinking your cup against his. “Now, we can drink.”

He taps a finger to the tip of his nose twice, then points it at you, before taking two large gulps of his drink.

The game actually does a good job of getting you and Jeonghan drunk once Jenny catches wind if it and starts giving out birthday kisses to whoever will take one. After a while, you make the executive decision that you need a break and escape to the bathroom to piss. When you exit back into the hallway off the living room, Jeonghan is there, leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for you. He hands you your cup back. “Your friends are terrible, terrible enablers,” he says, motioning for you to drink up while taking a drink himself. You whimper, leaning against the wall beside him and readmitting the dreaded liquid to your body.

“So,” you bump your shoulder against his, “are you having fun?”

He shifts his entire body to face you, shoulder resting against the wall, back turned to the entire party. He puts his face right in front of yours, narrows his eyes at you playfully, and says, “did you even listen to what I said?”

You put a hand on his shoulder. Just to have something between his body and yours. “What?”

He grins cheekily, letting out a puff of air that smells like cherry. “I always have fun with you.”

You laugh. Then in a voice sober you would be embarrassed of, you say, “And you never want it to end?”

He sticks his tongue out just barely, laughing into your neck. “And I never want it to end.”

You kiss him.

You don’t stop to think about what it might mean tomorrow or even in the next hour. You don’t stop to think about the fact that you’re too drunk to be initiating kisses or the possibility that he is. You don’t stop to think about anything, other than how much you love the sound of his laugh and how badly you want to feel his lips on yours again.

The kiss starts slowly, a shy orchestration of lips and breath. Your nose bumps against his, and he pulls away. He looks at you with those damn eyes, like it’s the first time all over again. And for some reason you can’t explain you bitterly think that it was always going to end like this.

He cups his free hand against your cheek and pulls you back in. Your lips meet in an open-mouthed kiss that has nothing slow and shy about it. No. It’s sloppy, hurried, and hungry. It’s tongue and teeth, crashing and colliding over and over again. It’s your body against his, every rise of your chest battling against his You wrap your free hand against his torso, pulling him impossibly closer. His hand moves from where it was holding your face to travel over the back of your head and your neck, sliding halfway down your back before pulling forward to run from your waist down to your hip. It lingers there for a moment before continuing further to grip the back of your thigh, pulling your knee up the side of his leg and holding it there against his hip.

A commotion sounds from the living room. “Oh shit.” You say breathlessly, pulling away from him. “I think she’s going to pop the champagne.”

“Okay.” He breathes, before kissing you again. You laugh in his mouth, whispering his name and pushing a hand against his chest. Finally, he lets go of your leg. You lead him back to the rest of the party where everyone is crowding around the balcony entrance. You and Jeonghan stand in the living room, watching from the window as Jenny struggles to pop the cork. She gets it after a moment, yelping at the sudden burst and spraying it over the edge of the balcony. Once the champagne dies down enough to not be overflowing, she brings the bottle to her lips and chugs. Everyone counts.

1! Jeonghan steps closer to you, wrapping his arms around your torso and hugging you from the back. You have to remind yourself to catch your breath.

2! He rests his chin on your shoulder. Without even thinking about it, you rest your head against his. His voice is a warm breath on your neck.

3! You recall what he said to your friends at the start of the party and again to you right before the kiss. Did he mean it? Does he really not want this to end?

4! Your eyes glance over at his. He looks happy. He looks like he’s finally given himself the chance to be young and stupid, which from the start, is all you ever wanted for him. So then why does it make you feel so suddenly grief-stricken?

5! “Why didn’t you tell Joshua about us?” You ask him quietly, voice drowned out by the counting for everyone other than him.

6! He angles his chin towards you. “What do you mean? He knows we’re dating.”

7! “No, I mean why didn’t you tell him that it’s fake.”

8! He stands up straight. Fuck the counting. You turn to look at him. “He’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

9! He looks at you carefully. “Did you tell Soonyoung that it’s all been fake?”

10! You haven’t even answered him yet, but somehow, he already knows what you’re going to say.

11! “Yes.” And even alcohol couldn’t have hidden the distinct look of betrayal painted all over his face.

12! He looks down into his cup and chuckles darkly. “Why did we just kiss?”

13! You swallow. Shit. “Someone was looking at you, like–well, you know what like.”

14! He doesn’t say anything. You recount his words back to him. “Sealing the deal, remember.”

15! His eyes bore into yours. How could you have been so stupid?

16! Please, you want to beg, say something.

17! He shakes his head, smiling emptily. “Tell your friends it was nice to meet them.”

18! He doesn’t wait to hear if you have anything left to say. He turns, and you watch him disappear from the party.

The rest of the numbers blur in your head.

—

(That night you had called Soonyoung, sobbing over the phone, feeling more drunk then, in your apartment than you had at any other point that night.

“What’s wrong?” Alarm was flush in his voice. “What happened? Are you okay?”

The only thing Soonyoung could even make out was a very sad, very quiet, “I ruined it.”)

—

You haven’t talked to Jeonghan since Jenny’s party. He hasn’t texted you either. Staring at your upcoming midterm on Thursday and the extra study session with Jeonghan scheduled for Wednesday, you feel, quite lamely, mocked by your own calendar. But more than anything, you’re mad that he’s left you to study all alone the week of your midterm. You’re mad that you’re so busy replaying that night in your head, you can barely pay attention to the practice tests. You’re mad that, right now, sitting at the spot you guys always sat at in the library, you don’t have him. And you’re terrified of the creeping thought that you never really did.

By the time the midterm does come around, you’re exhausted. Not from studying or lack of sleep, but just from the sheer willpower it’s taken all week to not think about Jeonghan. You feel oddly calm going into the exam, the usual anxious chatter of students around you and rattling of chairs and pencils, not freaking you out as much as it normally would. You take the midterm, one question at a time, just as Jeonghan instructed you to do with every homework and every quiz. And then, 40 minutes in, you finish. Astonishingly, you even have enough time left to check over your work. So you do, fixing minor rounding and calculation errors, until you’re faced again with a completed exam and 15 minutes left.

You get to do something you haven’t done since high school: you turn it in early.

—

You spend the rest of that day in between your bed and your couch, struggling even more now than before to ignore thoughts of Jeonghan and your last conversation with him. For the past several weeks, Thursday afternoons were monopolized by Jeonghan, but today, watching the sun set outside your window, you’ve spent it all alone. The finality of what happened last weekend finally hits you: you might never speak to Jeonghan again. You really did ruin it. Suddenly, the urge to weep overcomes you. You turn on the tv instead, looking for a movie to watch. And of course it must be fate's petty joke on you that the first movie that pops up is the one you watched with Jeonghan after your date. You groan into your pillow before switching to something else.

By the time the movie is almost over and the sun has fully set, your phone rings. You had been checking it obsessively earlier and had therefore set it a bit farther away from where you were sitting. But at the sound of the ring, you’re ashamed to admit that you literally leapt for it. Your mind reads the caller id and is instantly flooded with an odd mix of relief and anxiety. Jeonghan is calling. Holy shit, Jeonghan is calling.

Your voice is shaky when you answer. “Hello?”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan’s partner right?” Your mouth parts at the voice that most definitely does not belong to Jeonghan. Who is this man? Why does he have Jeonghan’s phone? Why does it hurt your heart so much when he calls you Jeonghan’s partner? You must sit in your shock for too long because the mystery caller speaks again, sounding somewhat annoyed. “This is Seungcheol from the team. This is who I think it is, right? Because your number was saved as ‘my cutie’ with like a million heart emojis, so if not, this is about to get really awkward.” You have no idea how to respond to that. Finally, Seungcheol says your name. “This is you, right?”

You inhale sharply. “Yeah, uhm, sorry yes. Is everything alright? Aren’t you guys at practice right now?”

“Yeah, well we’re about to end, but here’s the thing…” Seungcheol then explains how terribly Jeonghan’s been playing this week, overly aggressive, missing every pass, fucking up every cross. And today, halfway through practice he hurt his shoulder and the coach sat him out entirely, forcing him to sit on the sidelines and just watch. Safe to say, this did not go over well with him, and he’s been laying down on the bench head buried in his arms, snapping at everyone who approaches him ever since. Seungcheol had to use a fake emergency bathroom break as a chance to run away to the locker room and make this call. “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

Of course you know, and it’s all your fault. You really did ruin everything with one kiss. “I–”

“Fuck, I’m running out of time. Never mind that.” Seungcheol says, cutting you off. “Can you just come down and be here, when we get off practice? Jeonghan drove over so you both can take his car back, but I think he just really needs someone here with him today.”

You wince. “Seungcheol, actually, I–”

“No, no, please. You don’t understand. I think I saw him crying on the bench. He needs you. Come.” Then after a slight hesitation he adds, “If you can. Please.”

You don’t even know what to say, but it doesn’t matter because just then the call ends. You stare at your phone, considering the options. Stay here and wallow. Or go, and try to salvage everything you’ve broken. And while you are a very accomplished wallower, you know which one you have to do. You drag your feet all the way over to your room to change.

You pace outside the field waiting for them, running through every possible scenario in your head. It does nothing, only worsening the condition of your already ailing heart. You drop down onto the curb, holding your head in your hands. Maybe he won’t even see you like this. You can’t tell if you prefer or hate that possibility.

Something bumps into your back. You look up and find Jeonghan staring down at you. You stand up so quickly your head starts to spin. Looking at him, you realize that this is the longest you’ve gone without seeing or talking to each other since meeting. You hated every second of it. But you think you might hate the look on his face right now more.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, words devoid of all the little quirks that make him him.

“Seungcheol called me.”

His face twitches. “Why?”

“He said that you–” you halt, selfishly wondering if it’s too late to abandon this ship. “How’s your shoulder?”

He looks at it, rolling it out once. He shrugs. “It’s fine now.”

You nod.

He then surprises you by asking: “How was your midterm?” Your eyes widen, searching his face for… you’re not even sure what. You don’t find it anyways.

You shift your weight uncomfortably. “It went well actually.”

He nods.

“Do you want a ride back?

He scoffs quietly. You flinch. “Can you even drive?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How would you get back to yours?”

“I don’t know. Walk. Or maybe a bus. Or I could even–”

He doesn’t even let you finish. Voice raising when he asks again, “Why are you here?”

The words come out before you can stop them, tone matching his. “Because I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“For kissing you!” He drops his duffle bag on the floor. “I don’t know!”

He parts his lips, inhaling as if to speak, but then he looks straight in your eyes and loses every word he might’ve wanted to say. He picks up his duffle and walks over to his car. “Jeonghan, please say something. I miss you, and I hate this. I just want to at least talk about what happened before we never speak again.”

He shoves his bag into the backseat and slams the door shut. He points to the car. “You coming?”

“Where?”

“I’ll drop you home.”

You don’t even know why you let him, but you do, sliding in the passenger seat and waiting until the car is started and moving to say something.

Or at least, that was the plan. But then you lose all the nerves you built up on your walk over and keep quiet the entire drive back to your place. It’s only when he stops in front of yours, ignition shutting off, that they build back enough for you to say, “Jeonghan, I–”

“I’m not mad because of the kiss.” He finally says, voice much softer than before. His eyes stay trained on the dashboard. “The kiss was…” He chokes on the word while the tiniest of smiles breaks like light after a storm on his face. “The kiss was perfect.” Your stomach momentarily turns into a gymnast. “I’m not even mad at all. I’m just,” You lean in after the words, as if waiting to catch them in your hands. He shakes his head once and then turns to look at you fully. “I’m upset because you think this has all been fake when, if I’m being brutally honest, I haven’t been faking anything since that first party.”

Oh.

Oh.

Holy fucking shit.

He chuckles darkly, hitting his head lightly against the steering wheel. “Now, I know what it feels like to be on the opposite end of this.”

You can’t help yourself. “How is it?”

He groans. “It’s like a thousand stomach aches throughout your entire body.”

You want to take him out of his misery, but, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“I don’t think–”

“No, I’m serious.” He mutters. He looks pained. “Remember when you said that I can’t say no to people? This is it. I’m saying no.” He smiles at you, but you know his eyes too well and you know when there’s nothing in them. His breath catches. “I’m really happy about your midterm. I always knew you didn’t need me.”

He looks away after that, turning the car back on, an obvious signal for you to get out. Selfishly, you don’t. You take two more seconds to stare at his face, his eyes, his hair, his hands. Then you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car.

He doesn’t wait long before he drives away.

You walk back up to your dorm in a stupor of sorts. You unlock the door, step through the kitchen, walk like a zombie to your room, and stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes travel over your whole frame, and for some reason they fall to rest at your neck. More specifically, your necklace.

You’re out of the door, running before you even know it. Breathlessly, turning onto the road that leads to the opposite side of campus. 30 minutes away. This of course turns out to be a terrible, terrible idea. You do not run. But you get there eventually. Speed walking up to the door of Jeonghan’s frat house and knocking vigorously.

Soonyoung happens to be the one that opens it. “Oh, hey! How was your–Why can’t you breathe?”

You ignore him. “Is Jeonghan here?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s back from practice yet. Why? What happened? Did you guys make up yet?”

“No, but, Soonyoung, I’ve been so stupid. This whole time I kept gabbing on and on, but I was blind. It was him. It was always–”

You hear a familiar voice say your name. Not just familiar. Your favorite voice. You turn to face him.

And you can’t help it, you grin.

You’re distantly aware of Soonyoung closing the door behind you.

“How did you get here?”

“I ran.” He makes a face. “Well, partly.”

“I told you to–”

“I know what you said.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “I didn’t–well, not like this, but listen. It’s okay if you don’t care–”

“But the thing is Jeonghan,” you say, the sentences and words you had prepared on the way over blurring together all in a rush to get out of your head and into his, “I do. There was no one looking at you at Jenny’s party. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I wanted it. I hate sports. Really, ask Soonyoung, but I went and watched your game and had fun because you asked me to and because I don’t have the capacity to actually say no to your face. I thought I hated that smirk you do, but really I just hate how flustered it makes me feel. And I’m sorry that I took the whole young and stupid thing too close to heart, but,” you pull the matching necklace out from under your shirt. “If I didn’t care, would I still be wearing this? Would I be able to stand here and tell you and I haven’t taken it off since we bought it? And that that date was the best date I’ve ever been on.” You let go of the necklace, inhaling sharply. “I care, Jeonghan.” Then, as if it needs to be clarified, you add, “about you.”

You stare at him, waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

He turns around, takes two steps away from you, and then immediately plops his ass on the ground. You hear a whimper. “I thought I was going to lose you.” You approach him slowly, like a cat you’re trying like hell not to scare. You kneel down on the pavement beside him. He wipes his tears. “Don’t laugh.” He cries, already sensing the one bubbling in your throat. You shake your head as a swear not to. Which you break a second after the fact, turning your head to the side, desperately trying to hide it behind your hand. “Bully!” He exclaims.

“No. No.” You say, composing yourself and turning back to him. His tears are wiped, but a pout remains on his face. You cup your hands against his cheeks. “It’s just really cute.”

“It’s embarrassing.” He huffs.

You shake your head. “I love it.” Then you kiss him. It’s a slow and sweet kiss. You relish in it. There’s no rush anymore. No deadline. He isn’t going anywhere. Neither are you. You have all the time in the world with him.

[writingsofwesteros]

Could you do a fic where reader is the green kids mom instead of alicent and all the kids are heavily yandere for her. And if you can put some smut between all the kids and their mommy bc they just want to worship her

AN: Hi , I hope you like it x

NSFW

“Mother,” Aemond greeted you with a press of his lips against your lips. A little bit too close to your lips but it was not as if you noticed. The servants moved around you both as the large, wooden table was set with food and drink for breaking fast. “Aemond.” You sweetly called back as he settled on the chair beside you; arm already resting on the back of it. His fingers itched to brush those thick, soft locks of yours that always smelled of vanilla. Gods, it was near mouth watering. Thankfully, the rest of the council meeting had not arrived yet and Aemond desired the alone time with his mother. “Did you rest well?” Aemond asked gently; he knew his mother had worried and hardly slept since her husband had died.

“Of course, sweet boy,” you whispered out your lie with ease and if your attention was not brought to the opening door; you would have realised your son did not believe you. The new King had seemingly moved from his bed to grace the council with his presence this morning. Still, you greeted him with the warmth and love you always had for your children. “Mother..” Aegon opened his arms to embrace you; his happiness easily written all over his face and those doe eyes. He pressed a kiss to each of your cheeks as your own arms wrapped around him with ease. “I am glad you are here,” you hummed whilst your hands moved to his tunic. He had never changed, you thought to yourself. Still, seemingly needing you to dress him.

Aegon couldn’t help the smile tugging on his lips as your hands moved up and down his side once more. “Helaena is well?” You asked of your only daughter; concern dripping in your tone. “Of course.” Aegon hummed as his hand reached for your own. “I am sure she will be here soon.” He whispered into your ear as his eyes fluttered shut at your mouth watering scent coming over him. It did nothing to calm your nerves. Nothing ever did in the days that had passed since the coronation, you thought to yourself. “Daeron will be home soon, mother.” Aemond’s voice brought you from those thoughts as you slowly turned to face him. A soft smile tugged on your lips at his words. “I am glad. He has been gone too long.” You whispered to yourself with a slight duck of your head.

“He has,” Aegon whispered; desperate for your attention to return to him as both brothers battled for you. “Did you rest well?” You sweetly asked; fingers running through Aegon’s bright locks once more as he nearly purred. He could only nod his head before resting his own against yours, whilst taking comfort in your presence once more. Aegon’s lips parted to continue his words but a flash of annoyance came over him as the door began to open. The annoyance hardly lifted from him even when it was only his sister that gracefully entered the room. “Mama,” Helaena’s voice greeted you so sweetly as you moved to reach for her; arms open as always.

Your hands brushed over those loose locks of hers; once again Helaena had decided against such braids - well, only if you were to do it. Helaena would only allow you to touch her hair, something you took great care and enjoyment in. Their arms linked together as Aegon lounged back on his chair from the top of the table without care. As much as he pretended otherwise; the sight of his family before him - even Aemond was enough to warm his heart. His fingers moved over the sphere in front of him as he never took those bright eyes of his mother. “Come, we can sit together,” you gently whispered to your sweet girl who cuddled into your side once more.

~

“Aegon…aeg, you cannot…” Your words were completely breathless as those doe eyes of yours rolled back. Still, your King ignored you as his soft mouth captured your sweet, too sensitive pretty pussy. The dream had felt so real only for you to realise it was as his tongue brushed over your clit again and again without care of your words. “Mother….” Aemond’s voice had your head falling to the side; those cheeks of yours blushing madly. His hand reached for your face; thumb stroking your soft, plump bottom lip as those eyes of his watched your every reaction. “Shhh –” He whispered out before slowly leaning in. Your noses brushed together as you caught your breath. 

“I know, it feels so good mummy,” Helaena whispered into your ear from behind; her soft voice causing shivers down your spine. Helaena’s gentle touch moved up and down your side causing goosebumps to litter your soft skin. Aegon only moaned against you without care; his tongue lapping at your wetness with hunger. Aemond’s soft lips slowly moved down your chest; pressing open mouthed kisses as the night shift began to fall from your shoulders. A moan escaped your middle son as he leaned in and hotly captured your sweet, pink nipple. Aemond began to suck as his eyes fluttered with his hand moving to your free breast to palm at.

You could not stop your actions now as you reached for Aegon’s hair; pulling him impossibly closer and the King could only purr at your action. His hand slowly moved up your stomach; pressing down in a way that had you squealing. Helaena’s hold was much stronger than you thought it would be as she kept you against her chest. Your legs began to wrap around Aegon’s head; an act he seemed to enjoy as he hummed against your pretty, creamy pussy. Your stomach easily began to tighten in anticipation at the soft touches from them all. “So beautiful our mother is,” Helaena whispered as the two boys moaned in agreement against your body.

“Please – “ You hardly knew what you were begging for as Aegon began to harshly suck on your sensitive clit. The intense pleasure was so very new to you as you whimpered; your hands reaching for anything to cling onto. Your hips began to rock without you knowing as Aegon’s hold on you only tightened. The marks in the morning would be there for you to see and remember.

[hwajin]

☆°. — 2024; in fics !!

since the year is coming to an end (and spotify wrapped finally came out) i wanted to make a short, personal tumblr wrapped, shouting out my fav fics i've read this year; to both recap AND animate other ppl to read them as well!! it's not a ton, but it's the fics that stayed with me the most <3

one shots

☆ ; 22 strokes ; @cb97percent || MYYY fav piece of short erotic literature this year. i've grown out of reading pure smut/ porn without plot and i get soo bored scrolling the smut tags lately, but god THIS was absolute perfection. personally, for me, good smut is when i'm reading more than just nasty fucking; and this definitely delivered. i also remember the visuals so well, like the first sentence i read i was instantly pulled into the same view i had when i first read it!! 10/10 would reread it a million times and not get bored!!!

☆ ; starry night ; @astraystayyh || AHHHH i remembered the feeling i had while i read this INSTANTLY like it catapulted me right back!!! like this is JUST the romantic shit i LOVE and yearn and long for, and reading it tore my heart APART i loved it so so much omg. i kept remembering this one shot from time to time when i visited museums OR looked at my starry night print above my bed!! i need to reread this fully next time i see a van gogh hehe

☆ ; wherever you are ; @hyunverse || god i remember this hurting me just in the right places and then flicking my heart back again. friends to lovers will always be my fav genre of anything EVER but the little twist added to this made this fic SOOO unique and fun?? like the way it's written in parts i enjoyed SO much, the continuous timeline of them growing up together, the writingggg??? this one shot inspired me to a fic of my own (which i've never finished </3) and i feel like that says enough about how much it affected me 🫶🫶

☆ ; the snow falls apart, we fall apart ; @/astraystayyh || i sobbed over this one. SO so much. the time where 'long for you' came out was so crazy because everyone wrote their hearts out and this was amongst my favourites i've read. the visuals are so impressive because i (once again) remember this one shot so vividly before my inner eye, like i remember laying in bed and reading this, close to tears and everything. the longing and unsureness and the unspoken love in this has haunted me for soooo long it all came right back when i saw this fic in my reblogs. i wanna reread it so bad actually especially since it's getting so cold and grey now 😭

serieses

☆ ; super bored ; @straywrds || okay. OKAY. mari, you're already fucking know what i'm about to say because i am annOYING when it comes to this series; but it is, no lying, the best i have ever read. if this was a full on novel i wouldn't even question it a second, and it would be no doubt one of my favourites. when i scrolled through my reblogs to check what fanfictions had struck with me i already knew super bored would be included because it would have been ILLEGAL not to. it was also the only piece i knew by heart, with no need of rereading a first sentence to remember the feeling i had when i first discovered it; i only need a quick glance at blue hydrangeas and frogs for the feelings to come back. or when i think of paris. or when i listen to this and this song (je l'aime à mourir was my most listened to song this year... like hello). like this piece has struck me SO incredibly deep and i so so hope that you know that!! (i doubt that you don't.... i was and still am in your asks about it like a leech jfjejd) like i truly and genuinely don't believe that there's another reader who loves super bored as much as me, the way my throat formed a clump when i skimmed over the tags i wrote!!! i miss the universe so so much, i hope (without any intended pressure, of course) that you get the time and motivation to finish it at some point, even if it's in 10 years time!!! after yapping so much i wanted to truly thank you for writing and sharing this piece with us; i hold it dear to my heart, every single day <3

[fairytaleendingss]

Inedible

Summary: You feel guilty when your OCD prevents you from eating the dinner James has cooked for you.

Pairing: James Potter x fem!reader

CW: OCD symptoms, food anxiety, intrusive thoughts, mentions of food poisoning.

Hey guys! This is kind of different from some other stuff I've written previously but I wanted to give it a go. I'm kind of nervous for people to read it since it's quite personal so be gentle haha.

For context, I have been experiencing symptoms of OCD for the last couple of years (quite intensely at times) and I've unfortunately been unable to receive an official diagnosis so far. However, I also deeply resonate with many people's experiences with the condition and I have always wished there would be more fanfiction and content in general which depicted these experiences. So I figured, why not give it a go myself?

This is solely based on personal experiences and I'm aware that everyone has different symptoms so it might not be 100% accurate to everyone's experience. But I hope that someone out there is able to relate to it.

Let me know what you think and if you'd like to see me write more fics that involve a reader with OCD.

--

You sat at the dinner table as James bounced around the kitchen. The clattering of pots and pans could be heard as your boyfriend worked on his self-proclaimed "masterpiece".

You had had a long week at work and come Friday night, James insisted on treating you to a surprise homecooked dinner. You appreciated the gesture but James wasn't particularly well known in his friend group for his cooking capabilities and that made you slightly anxious. He insisted that he knew what he was doing, that this was his mother's old recipe and he'd helped her make it 1000 times growing up but something inside of you was still unsure. His determination to exile you from the kitchen wasn't helping matters either.

"Hey, honey, if you're going to use that cheese in the fridge, could you check the expiration date? It's been in there a little while." You called as your foot bounced up and down beneath the table.

"Don't worry, I'm not using that one," he called back. More pots and pans rattled around and you couldn't help but chuckle at the noise (and inevitable mess) he was making.

You leaned back in your chair and heaved out a heavy breath, trying to calm your nerves.

"This is so stupid," you muttered to yourself. "It's literally just dinner."

James emerged from the kitchen a few minutes, carrying two full plates and looking particularly pleased with himself. He placed one down on the table in front of you and took a seat opposite.

"Here you are, love. Dinner is served."

You mustered the best smile you could before glancing down at the plate in front of you. You did your best to contain your disappointment.

Chicken.

Dear god, why did it have to be chicken?

You looked up to see that James was already digging in, while a million thoughts raced through your mind.

What if he hasn't cooked it properly?

You'll get Salmonella and end up in Hospital.

If you eat this, you'll get sick and miss out on your friend's birthday party tomorrow. You've been looking forward to that for weeks!

"Is everything okay?"

James was staring up at you with those big brown eyes of his and you felt guilt begin to flood every inch of your body. He'd work so hard to make you this! He was so excited. You were letting him down by not trying it.

You nodded shortly, sending him a tight lipped smile as you picked up your knife and fork. Quickly you scooped up some of the vegetables on your plate and shoved them into your mouth.

Of course they tasted delicious.

They were sitting up against the chicken! What if they're contaminated with bacteria?

Did he remember to use different chopping boards for the meat and vegetables?

You shook your head discretely, as if in attempt to clear it of intrusive thoughts. It didn't work.

For the next 10 minutes you watched James eat while hesitantly picking at the greenery on your plate, all the while guilt gnawed at the walls of your stomach. You felt so bad that you were almost ready to cry.

At one point you picked up your knife and dug it into a piece of the chicken. You examined the slice thoroughly, shifting it on your fork to see it under the light. It looked fine. Not pink at all. Perfectly cooked.

But what if you just can't see it properly?

What if another section of it is undercooked?

You just couldn't do it. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't bring yourself to eat it. The thought only made the pit in your stomach grow deeper. James was going to be so upset.

As if on cue, the boy looked up at you, observing the anguished look on your face.

"Hey, what's going on? You've hardly touched your meal. Don't you like it?"

Your heart clenched and you felt tears burn against the back of your eyes.

"No it's not that. I'm just not very hungry tonight."

James raised a brow at you, setting his cutlery down. "Come on, love, I know that's not true. I've been listening to your stomach growl all evening. Tell me what's really going on."

You sniffled lightly, looking down at your hands which were fidgeting in your lap.

"I'm so sorry James. I feel really bad but I don't know if I can eat this."

You didn't look up at him. You couldn't bare to see the disappointment on his face. Feelings of shame and embarrassment began to join the flurry of emotions that swirled within you. You felt ridiculous. It was only a piece of chicken after all.

"Sweetheart, look at me."

You didn't know when exactly it had happened - you were too distracted with your own shame - but at some point, James had moved from his chair and was now kneeling at your side.

He lifted a gentle hand to brush away the tears that had begun to leak down your cheeks.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to eat it if you don't want to."

You sighed, a new wave of tears beginning to fall as you looked up at him. "I do want to eat it. It looks amazing but I just... I can't!"

You were getting frustrated now. You were annoyed that your stupid brain wouldn't let you do something as simple as eat the meal your boyfriend had so kindly made you.

"Y/n, it's okay. I understand, you can't help it," James comforted, pulling you towards him and engulfing you in his strong arms.

He gently rubbed your back, whispering words of reassurance into your ear as more frustrated tears fell.

After a while, you pulled away, straightening yourself up, feeling absolutely mortified by your reaction to something as simple as a meal in front of you.

James, however, seemed completely unphased.

"Why don't we put this in the fridge and order some take-away instead?"

You looked up at him with wide eyes. "But you just spent so long making this for me."

"Eh, not to worry," he reassured casually. "You're just having a bad day, lovely. I'm not going to pressure you to eat it. Besides, Sirius is coming over tomorrow. I'm sure he'll eat it. He's always keen to go through our left-overs."

You sniffled, letting out a watery chuckle.

"That's my girl," James muttered affectionately. "Now why don't you look up the menu from that Pizza place that you like down the road while I tidy up."

You nodded lovingly, watching James whistle to himself as he wandered back into the kitchen.

You let out a sigh, pulling out your phone. Thank god for James Potter.

[sizzleissues]

Its May.

Okay so this is in the same AU I had last year its just changed and evolved while also being the exact same. Except now I have 15,000 words of it written, like 7,000 words of planning and lore and hours upon hours of research that I will be pointedly ignoring. Will be posting more stuff this month about the AU and my hopes and dreams for it

Also slight art improvement check? I’ll put their original mermaid designs below the cut.

It’s Marinette as a mermaid and … its not Adrien or Chat Noir but a third worse thing (Catwalker but in the purest manifestation of it being a curse and not who he wants to be) I will be making designs for mer!Ladybug, and mer!Adrien as its own thing later on.

Okay if you want to indulge me look below the cut

Old mermaid designs first. I am going to be talking about my design thoughts, thoughts and ramblings about this AU and what I’ve been up to. You have been warned

As you can see, some things have changed but neither design I hated, I just wanted to go further with it.

My brain is quite specific about mermaids and how I want them to generally look. I wanted to distinguish biological merfolk from transformed humans by having them being anatomically different. So Adrien has a vertical tail instead which is also way faster underwater. His transformation is quite distressing for him and very chaotic. Of course when he accepts it he’s not so raggedy.

Marinette similarly avoids her life as a mermaid by becoming human and I wanted her mermaid design to hint toward her fascination with humans. She wears a top she fashioned from human fabric she found in a sunken merchant vessel. In general all other merfolk either forgo clothes or wear things fashioned from materials available to them. There’s deep fear of humans and human things so even though human clothes are available to them (off dead bodies but…. Whatever) they choose to difference themselves as much as possible. The same taboos don’t exist for them and their bodies are already adapted from the temperature of their environment. Adrien has stray bits of netting and seaweed on him because he’s not exactly the best at controlling his speed and often crash’s through fishing nets and patches of seaweed resulting in stuff being caught on him.

A lot of their designs are still being worked but I’ve definitely pushed them the right direction!

On to the AU. You might have seem me cryptically talk about something I’m writing the past few weeks. This is because it’s been in my brain since last May and been on and off writing it since then. I decided I’d talk about it once May came back around but and then when I finished writing it, start posting sneak peaks and more spoilery art until it was fully edited and I felt confident in it to post with an aim for it to finish posting once May rolled around again. Oh god.

It’s set in the late 1700s in a fictional version of France that’s actually fragmented over a bunch of islands. I have done more fashion research than I ever thought I’d do and in the end we will still be taking creative license but know I do know what they actually wore! I ALSO did a butt tonne of research about sailing ships and turns out they are super complicated and now I know too much and yet too little still about them. It should be super fun and action packed if I can manage. Have some really good scenes already in my head I know you’ll love. We’re already three ships battle deep and I’ve only written four chapters. (It chills out for a bit after that)

This is entirely self-indulgent by the way. I’m writing this for me, you guys are just a bonus. I literally don’t care as long as it satiates my rabid need for the fic that only lives in my brain at the moment. Saying that, I do want to put my best foot forward.

The next thing I will be posting for this is their human forms and more blabblerings about that. For I am insane and all.

[sugarverse]

𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝙾𝚞𝚝 📚📖

word count: 3.3k out of 9.4k

synopsis: you, 23 reader, have been working at a library on the corner for awhile until your boss invites a hero to come and visit. The hero also happens to ask for your number... <3

authors note: yikes i know, it was originally in three parts but I don't necessarily know how to break it up, originally the story was 12k. it's written for poc!reader/black!fem!reader so there's mentions of brown skin and eyes but other than that it's your normal x reader. Izuku is aged up to 25, The smut is in the second part.

moodboard for fic by @fizziedoodle !

“Hey Miss!!” You peered down at the smaller voice, simultaneously feeling a book slip from your hand and onto the ground with a thud. The bookshelf wasn’t too high, but you still needed a ladder to organize and dust the top shelf. Which… hadn’t been so pleasant with children running around before their daily read. Regardless, you had a job to do. It wasn’t gonna stop for a ton of kids. You had been rearranging the books in alphabetical order before the kid startled you.. Thank god it didn’t fall on their head.

“Are you gonna read to us today? Or is Miss Maggie?” The kid didn’t look over six years old, blue eyes and long brown hair with freckles littering her face in the sweetest way. She wore a small dress full of sunflowers with bright pink gel shoes. You’ve definitely seen her before, although her name wasn’t ringing a bell.

“I wanted to read one of those pigeon stories you read us last time!” She squeaked, shoving the book in your direction. You let out a sigh of relief, climbing down to the ground. Leaning down to be eye-level with her, taking the book gently from the girl. The title read The Pigeon Needs A Bath.

“This book is pretty thin, You sure you want me to read just this one book, sweetheart?” You ask, handing the girl the book back before standing straight. Your hands found their way into your pockets, looking for your notepad to mark the row complete after you snagged the book back from the ground. 

“I’ll go find some more!” She hurried off, going to find even more things to shove in your face. You climb back up to finish your organizing. Their reading wasn’t for another.. what? 20 minutes? You had time to knock out another shelf. Time flew by as you finished reorganizing, hearing bigger footsteps behind you than the average 6 year old.

“I have to stop by Goodwill and get some more books.. I also gotta stop at the post office and some.. other errands?” The owner of the store, Maggie, looked over to make sure she had gotten your attention before naming off a few things that needed done in the shop “You got this reading?”

“Of course, What time will you be back?” You climbed down the last step of the ladder, patting off the dust from the bookcase that had gotten on your apron. It was some cutesy light blue apron you wore so the dust wouldn’t ruin your clothing. It didn’t match everything you wore but the baby blue made your skin pop. 

“I’ll be back in time for that uh, Pro hero guy..” She snapped her fingers, trying to place a face and a name. “I don’t know exactly who- my wife wrote him in.” Maggie waved her hand, grabbing her bag from behind the counter as you followed. “But I’ll be back to close, Promise y/n!” She gave you a quick side hug, rushing out the door.

You weren’t too involved with all the hero bullshit, competing for the number one spot on who can save more lives to be rich and famous? Please. The system in itself is ass and it wouldn’t make a difference in your everyday life for one of those snobby people to stop by. The kids seemed to love it, quirkless or not. You walked around to the counter, placing your notepad next to the register before going to sit in the small corner of the shop for reading time. Maggie left with a wave, letting a small chime rang through the shop as it called the children over for their reading, a few already sitting and ready to listen.

The library wasn’t big, it was a corner store completely renovated into a library for children. The second floor had been an apartment where the owner and her wife stayed. It was a cozy little place where neighborhood kiddos would visit for a read, parents come in to buy a few books. Maggie always made sure there was something for everyone, Along with cute little toys and those foam floor mats to sit on. The girl from earlier held 4 books in her hands, rushing to sit near the front with her pile. A few other kids held thin picture books in their hands as well, but only having 15 minutes to read to them, you knew you wouldn’t get to them all.

“Alright, Who’s first?“ You asked, smiling down at them. All twelve of them raised their hand, some even raising both so your attention was on them. Of course this wasn’t going to be easy. You thought to yourself as you put a hand over your eyes, pointing to some random kid. He held a small book, standing up slowly and handing it to you.

"My mommy reads me this sometimes..” If you give a mouse a cookie. You gave him a reassuring smile before he went back to his seat. You began to read and in no time at all you finished reading the few books children selected. Thank god it was a Friday, Most children would be picked up right after the reading for afternoon preschool etc. But it seemed like no one wanted to leave.. Was it that hero Maggie had mentioned? You sighed, hopping up and heading to the check out desk where you saw a small line of children waiting to scan their books. The store bell jingled, as if the creak of the door didn’t give away someone walking in.

“Welcome to ‘Maggie’s Magical Bookshop,’ You paid the person no mind as you spoke, handing the last child their book before letting your gaze fall upon the… very tall man in front of you. Noise almost immediately filled the shop, children running up to him screaming-

"Deku!” As loud as their little lungs could. He gave a flashy smile, leaning down to hug the children that ran straight for his legs. He laughed and lifted a few of them in his.. very strong arms. Was it hot in the bookshop? Was the AC fucked up? You force your eyes from the tall man.. fumbling with something on the desktop. Was he looking at you too? Your mind screamed at you to introduce yourself, Quickly walking towards a shelf to do something. Anything besides gawk at him.

“Are you Maggie?” There were hopping children behind him, playing with his gloves and such as he spoke up. You stopped in your tracks, huffing through your nose before turning around to face him.

“No, I’m y/n. Are you the um.. pro? She had been talking about?” He extended a hand, nodding with a cheesy grin on his face as soon as your hand was in his. It wasn’t like you never saw him on the news, but you sure did skip the channel as soon as it was some bullshit hero chart over who had been number one. He was newer to being a pro, you knew that much. He was also so much hotter in person..

“Yes! I’m sorry I’m so early, I finished patrol sooner than I thought!- I hope I’m not interrupting anything! The woman on the phone said before six, I told her I was sure I could make it before then!” Your eyes never left his, watching his gaze fall to your lips for a moment as he spoke.

“You’re fine, There’s plenty of time for you to hang out and sign all of their t-shirts and such. Make yourself at home, The reading area might be best for the swarm you got..” The kids dragged him to where you were just moments ago before he could respond, talking his ears off about different silly topics.

The poor hero stayed until close, kids coming from school to see him before going off to finish homework. It’s the busiest the store has been since opening day! However, Izuku made it a point to stay that long. He spent the last 45 minutes of the store being open to make some conversation with you, he just couldn’t help himself. You had this smile that he couldn’t resist. And quite frankly, he wasn’t used to the feeling of butterflies in his stomach. He fought some shit villain every day, What’s a few butterflies? Especially as pretty as you. Why wouldn’t he want to stick around?

“I really didn’t think it would be so calm this week! It feels like I’ve done nothing but catch up on papers!” The hero scratched his neck with his index finger, shaking his head lightly. “I guess I really am doing a good job!- Of course other pros are doing their jobs as well!” He let out a relieved chuckle, looking at you with a big, sincere, smile on his face. “How has work here been? It must be so nice working with so many children!”

You feel your eyes involuntarily roll, shaking your head and leaning against the wall behind you. “It’s nice until some kid gets sick on themselves and their mother isn’t here to help. We have extra clothing in the back because it’s happened more than once.. I don’t understand why kids throw up so much.” Your groan turned into a laugh, eyes leading to lost n found. You had an unamused look on your face talking about it. He noticed but couldn’t stop looking at your soft brown eyes. He felt like he was a kid all over again, the blush on his face never faulting.

“I see adults get sick all of the time if you can believe it..” He chuckled, looking out of the store window for a few seconds before speaking again. “Do you have a number I can text? I would love to talk to you more.. If that’s okay with you?” He braced for rejection, It was kinda weird to be hitting on you after dealing with kids wasn’t it? Maybe he should take it back. Was he coming off sleazy? Maybe he should talk to you a few times before he asks.

Your eyes widened in the slightest, feeling a smile tug at your lips. “Sure, Let me see your phone,” You stepped closer to the counter, seeing him fumble in the pouch of his belt before handing you his phone. You went to his contacts, making yourself one of them and handing it right back to him. He had an even bigger, cheesier, grin on his face after he took it back.

“I have to um.. I have to go back to my agency to make sure everything is settled for the night. I’ll be texting you as soon as I’m off!” He spoke quickly, stumbling over his words as he slowly backed towards the door. “I hope you have a good night y/n!” He waved, bumping into the door with his back before quickly leaving. He didn’t want to continue making a fool of himself.

Finally, you could go home as well. Not that he was a problem, but that man sure could talk. It was endearing. You thought to yourself, grabbing your keys and walking out to lock the small bookshop up. There was no doubt that you were attracted to him. Every woman in America.. Japan, Hell the world was attracted to him in some way. But he asked for your number. You felt your chest swell with some kind of pride. By the time you made it home, he had already texted. You two made plans to hang out soon and have dinner together. You talked for hours until you eventually fell asleep. He was ecstatic. You really enjoyed his company.

As the next Friday rolls around, He tells you to put on the most fancy thing you have in your closet. He refused to tell you where he was taking you, only that he’d be to pick you up at 6. You weren’t one for surprises but this couldn’t go too bad. Fancy clothing? Had to be a dinner! You hoped it was just dinner. Your social battery couldn’t take being fancy for more than about two hours max.

And 6:00pm sharp, there he was. He wore a shiny black tux with a handsome sage green tie, carrying flowers for you. Thinking that roses were too cliche, he had bought you a bouquet of daisies and pink lilies. He took a deep breath, walking up to your door and knocking before taking a small step back, wanting to give you some space to avoid smothering you as soon as you opened the door. The gold watch on his wrist flickered in the sunlight, the reflection of the light shimmering across your chest as you answered the door.

You had on a short, silk, black dress, fitting to your body in the best way possible. Your hair was done, your make-up was done, you even had on these cute black glittery heels you got on sale. You looked stunning. He blinked a few times, scanning your body with his emerald eyes. His jaw stayed slack, struggling to speak at first. “You look gorgeous.. I-I brought you flowers.!” He extended his arms out to hand them to you, feeling his face radiate heat from how red he had gotten. He tried to fan himself, laughing softly.

You simply smiled, taking them and going to put them in a vase. “You can come inside if you’d like! It’s not really tux weather, huh Deku?” You teased, turning on the water from your faucet and looking back at him.

He quickly nodded, walking in and shutting the door quietly behind him. “Please- Call me Izuku.” You undid the rubber band on the bouquet, sliding the flowers into the vase along with the small flower food it came with. 

“Is that your first or last name?” He looked around your cozy apartment, looking at pictures and the designs on the coffee table. Just soaking in small details. “My first name, Midoriya is my last..” He looked over at you, hearing the small clunk of glass hit the table lightly as you set the vase down. You bent over slightly, centering it at the table and moving the napkins to the kitchen counter top instead. “How’s it look, Izuku?” You looked over at him, standing up straight and leaning your arms on the back of the dining room chair.

He let his eyes drift over to the vase, smiling as he felt his face finally cool down. “I think it looks great! I didn’t want to get you roses, I just thought it was.. boring?” He didn’t want you to be allergic in some way or throw them away right after he left. Then again, He couldn’t ask what your favorite flowers had been. You would have known what he was getting. You began walking over to him, grabbing your handbag. “I think it looks pretty! Are you ready to leave?”

He beamed, nodding and opening the door for you. He gave a small bow for you to go first. You thank him, flicking off a few lights on the way out. He followed before shutting the door. You lock it with a small hum, checking that it was locked before walking you to the.. fucking limo he had waiting? Your eyes shot open in surprise, looking over at him as he looped his arm around yours and walked you to the newly washed, maybe even newly painted, vehicle.

“I hope I didn’t go too overboard? I just wanted the first date to be nice. Ya know?” He flashed a small smile, opening the door for you and hopping in himself as you two drove into town. You looked around the area, seeing fancy liquor and wine glasses close to a very clean mirror. The seats were cream colored and it smelled like new leather. Your eyes roamed, seeing Izuku sitting tense with his scarred hands placed in his lap. Maybe he was trying to avoid making you uncomfortable.. He really had been a gentleman.

You scooted closer to him, watching him quickly move his arm up top of the seat to give you room. You lean your head onto his chest lightly. “Where are we going?” You ask, looking at your freshly done nails. He wanted to leave it a surprise, looking down at you with a small chuckle.

“Nowhere too expensive,” He joked, letting his freckled hand slide to rub over your shoulder. You eased into his touch, smiling and looking down at the tight fit of his pants, rubbing a hand over his knee as well to make sure he was alright.

“That didn’t answer my question, Where we goin’?” You laughed, looking up at him to see he’s already looking down at you with the most lovey dovey face he possibly could. Still trying to soak in the sight of you.

“Don’t you wanna wait until we get there?” He faked a pout, holding back a grin creeping onto his face. You faked annoyance in return, huffing and scratching his knee a few times with your nails. “Fine, Fine.. I’ll wait.” You looked through the tinted windows, feeling your heels squish at the carpet on the floor of the limo. 

He looked at the mirror, seeing your pretty shaven legs and wanting to run his hands down them. Your skin was just so soft.. But he didn’t wanna be weird, sighing and looking away from your frame quickly. “You like steak? Or are you more of a sushi person?” Maybe he didn’t even know where you two were going, sliding his scarred hand down your arm lower than before.

“Steak is so good,” You laughed, trying to recall if you had even tried sushi. You think you have? You were up to try it again. You shrugged, “The sushi I don't mind trying, I’m probably just going to get something small.” You fumbled with your nails, picking at them slightly. Eating on first dates was always kinda weird. Especially when the person gets too scared to eat in front of you. Then you don’t wanna eat and it’s wasteful.. 

“You can buy everything in the place if you want. Don’t look at prices. I’m treating you, y/n.” He leaned down to your forehead, giving a small peck before he looked out the window again. You smiled wide as the feeling of the limo moving started to slow to a stop. The valet opened the door for the two of you, ducking his head down slightly and smiling. “Right this way,”

He bowed at the two of you, seeing the pro hero get out and turn to you. The place was lit with warm lights and music coming from the revolving door as people walked in with big flashy outfits and styled hair. You took Izuku’s hand, getting out and letting your heels clink against the top of the curb and onto the carpet leading to the entrance. He pulled you close, moving his hand to hold your waist. “Do you like it? I know we haven’t gone in yet but the lights on the outside look pretty cool, right?” The valet shut the door behind you two as you walked towards the door.

You were speechless, letting out a small but nervous laugh. “It sure is something.. It already looks too expensive.!” It wasn’t like you were poor, but it wasn’t like you were rich either. This place looked like the start off price was 200 a person for a damn drink! You kept yourself close to the hero as you both walked into the rotating door. The carpet from the walk-way turned to fancy tile that made a lovely click noise when you stepped onto it. The interior was more gold than anything with dark wood complementing the hostess stand and the pillars of the building. Gold designs littered the bar area, making it look more than pleasant. Looking to your left, there was the tallest fish-tank that you think you had ever seen. Still not as tall as the ceilings but it sure was tall enough. There had been lots of colorful fish, octopus, starfish.. Everything was in that damn tank. 

heres another link to part two if you don't wanna scroll up lol

[arsonisticscholar]

Disciple Shen yuan au, but he transmigrated as a pre/early arc reader of pidw. Say in canon he transmigrated at like 22, if pidw was written over the course of a couple of years he might be in his late teens. Innocent pre cucumber era where he had high hopes for pidw and hasn’t totally been stomped down by health issues and frontal lobe development

This is heavily inspired by Sy’s temp transmigration system because it’s a great fic and I love it but I can’t get it out of my head of what if situation is basically the same exept he hasn’t read pidw yet

Maybe he realizes he’s in a book, maybe he even realizes it is pidw (still in early stages, MAYYBE became more mainstream recently due to the start of the abyss arc) based on just seeing things online. But he doesn’t have the same biases about what the characters should be like or the foreknowledge of all the native life

I’m torn between him being the only Shen yuan there so there can be disciple bingyuan or to make cumplanes relationship more interesting by putting in not only another transmigrator, not only one that doesn’t know the world, but one that is literally the (to them, sy would kick anyone who called him this) child version of the most beautiful intelligent cunning bordering cruel wife of the emperor that lbh and sqh have gotten to know

Not only that, but I think it would be really funny if without the bias towards binghe as his blorbo since he hasn’t read pidw yet takes one look at lqg and is just standing in shock (UUUGGGHH FEED MY MULTISHIPPING TENDENCIES) but you cannot tell me he wouldn’t have a big fat crush on him. I think it would be really funny if he also is automatically drawn toward lbh and I think he would be absolutely ecstatic about it but would prob get scared away by their pda after like a week and a half

I also think it would be soooo funny if bingyuan end up adopting teen sy and find out about it and approach him like ‘you are NOT dating that BRUTE’ or some shit and he’s like huh?? Wdym?? I just think he’s really cool for when he saved me that one time and when he let me fly on his sword and gave me a cool fan and also I like watching him train and he’s just objectively pretty anyone would admire a face like that how could I not but Id never want to date him he’s a guy!?!? I’m an ally but I’m obviously not gay??? And bingqiu would just sigh and shake their heads and try to keep him away from lqg

And I think it can also be an interesting point of introspection like if I never met binghe would I really be with lqg? If I didn’t get to shizun first would lqg have stolen him away from me? I think on sqq’s part like so much of what sy does is a source of (first hand? Second?) embarrassment because ohh wow I was an annoying kid or oh my god why is teen me staring at him so much this is embarrassing I have a husband what does this say about me. And for binghe it can become a place of insecurity like if I never came along I’d this how it would end up if I never made it out of the abyss what if shizun leaves me for lqg has shizun ever thought of him that way what if what if what if what if

And i think sy would have an interesting relationship with sqh if he was still in the process of reading the early arcs when it was still mainly exposition and he’s already gotten a taste of the plants and monsters and plot set ups but it hasn’t gone downhill yet into fan service. He would totally gush about how much he’s interested in the story and share his theories and hopes for it and they might even end up brainstorming for another book for sqh to write together. And I love the idea of sqh not only being older post transmigration but also pre like he was a full adult when he STARTED writing and sy was a teen when he started reading and sqh just has the realization of ‘wow I was like 26 beefing with a high schooler online’ but also the fact that sy LOVED pidw pre fan service like you don’t stick with such a long and shitty story if you weren’t obsessed with it at some point. And I think it would give sqh a new perspective on sqq’s criticisms and upset about how it went. Yeah, he chose to keep reading, but he chose that because he had faith in the world airplane created and the character he loved.

He would like immediately out himself as a transmigrator because he went to the new kid ceremony thingy overheard cumplane being dumb and had a really obvious reaction bc wdym these two fantasy men are talking about miku in English in public out loud like what is happening here so they catch on to that, sqq accepts him as his disciple and the three of them have tea together and their interaction goes something like

*all sat at the low table in the bamboo house*

Sqh: so you’re a transmigrator

Sy: uhm I guess so

Sqh *to sqq*: psst Shen yuan bro (or something clearly Shen yuan) say something

Sy: how do you know my name!?!?

And that’s how they find out sqq and sy are the same person they eventually figure out timeline and stuff and sqq is like oh my god this is a child but also child me without pidw knowledge I need to keep him away from any trouble including plot, kidnappings, dangerous beasts, and mystery plants and obviously the most effective way to (not) keep him safe from this is adopt him BINGHEE COME HEREEEE we’re adopting this one now also remember how I came from a different world yeah this is technically me when I was a teenager before I read your story so he has no knowledge of this worlds dangers or customs we must protect him at all costs binghe locks eyes with him and the internal monologues are going in completely different directions binghe is cooing and brainstorming ways to booby trap the house so he can’t leave and sy is just gazing into his eyes like wowww what an objectively handsome guy yk his muscles are very big his hair is very big his eyes are very big,,,, I want to BE him I def don’t want him I want to BE him,,, gym goals fr,,, then he asks who he is and lbh’s like ‘oh my qingqiu’s husband 😊’ and sy just passes out on the spot

I also get the vibe that he would not be a very horny teenager like he might catch himself looking once or twice but I mean sqq didn’t really care about the porn in pidw so either he’s very particular or he’s very time and place so I don’t think his inner monologue for pretty people would be as body oriented as sqq’s is. I also want him to take a liking to yqy since he’s just like his older brother back home and sqq is like ‘no get away from this bad man’ and sy is all ‘but he’s so nice to me 🥺 he doesn’t mean bad’ like bro doesn’t know the lore also he would maybe not quite wifebeam but he would endear himself to like every single peak lord immediately.

I like to think he’d keep his body p much plus dianxia robes And the story is that bingqiu found a magic plant and made a plant son using bingqiu qi or something idk so that’s why they not only suddenly have a kid, a kid that looks similar to sqq and acts pretty similar to him but has no idea about anything in the world. These people think he was born yesterday and they might as well be right with how little he knows about the world or it’s customs

This is all I got for right now but feel free to expand on this or write it because I am a shit writer and boy have I been craving this

[firewasabeast]

if you're still taking prompts:

Buck finds pictures of Tommy in his army days

thank you

@verschlimmbesserung also sent a prompt about DADT, this fic features both prompts! Sorry it took so long to write out! ft. Buck asking loads of questions because he's a curious man.

Buck was busy reorganizing the garage to put the most important boxes toward the front when he stumbled upon an old, tattered box. He and Tommy had moved into their new place nearly two weeks ago, but a wildfire had set them back on being able to unpack and actually get settled.

He didn't recognize the box. Certainly hadn't seen it during their move. The top couldn't even fully close. The flaps were flimsy, torn, and looked like it had been wet and dried a few times over.

He opened the box carefully, then reached in and lifted out a handful of photographs. There were other items inside as well, but the pictures were what grabbed Buck's attention.

They were all Tommy. A young, very handsome Tommy, taken during his time in the army.

Buck had no idea these pictures even existed. Tommy didn't speak much about his time in the military. He wasn't secretive about it, would answer questions when he was asked, but he wasn't one to regularly bring it up in conversation. Buck had always sensed a bit of tension there, so he didn't pry.

The first picture was Tommy in the cockpit, staring straight ahead. He looked hyper-focused on whatever he was doing. The second was him in his bunk, glaring up at whoever took the picture, his hand raised in an attempt to shield himself from the camera. The third was a bit of a shock to see. He had a head injury of some kind, blood exiting a cut on his forehead. He was smiling though, giving the camera a thumbs up.

“Babe, I finished the kitchen boxes, but-” Tommy stopped as he stepped out into the garage and saw Buck staring down at something. “Distracted already? You've been out here like five minutes.”

Buck held up the collection of pictures. “I didn't know you had all these,” he said softly.

Tommy moved closer, taking a few of the photos from Buck's hand. “Oh yeah. I haven't looked at these in, God, like twenty years? Maybe more.”

Buck studied Tommy's face for a moment, checking for any signs that he was upset before asking, “Can we look through them?”

Tommy tore his eyes away from the photographs to look up at Buck. He smiled. “Of course.”

They headed into the living room, which was almost completely bare, but it did have a couch and a coffee table. They laid out the photos and sat down, then Buck began picking them up one by one.

“How old were you here?” he asked. Tommy was staring off into the distance, saluting. He looked like a baby. Didn't even look old enough to shave.

Tommy thought for a moment before responding. “Eighteen, I think? Yeah, that was right after I graduated basic, so eighteen.”

“You look so young.”

“I was actually 5'9 at the time. Had a growth spurt during pilot training.”

Buck picked up another one. Tommy was leaning against a sign that had something written in Arabic, his arms crossed in front of him. “Were you scared?”

“Deep down, sure. Never showed it though.”

“That's why I had to leave SEAL training,” Buck replied. “They wanted machines, and I couldn't be a machine.”

“I don't recommend it.”

Buck spread the pictures out some more, so he could look over a few at a time. “Why don't you ever look through these?” he asked.

Tommy shrugged. “I guess I don't really connect with them anymore. Haven't in a long time.”

“What do you mean?”

Tommy took a deep breath, let it out slowly. He picked up one of the pictures. It was just him, standing in front of a chopper. He had aviator sunglasses on, one leg cocked out in front of the other. There was no smile on his face, just a stern look at the camera. “This guy feels like a different person.” He huffed out a laugh, handed the picture to Buck. “This guy was a sarcastic dick.”

Buck raised an eyebrow. “You, sarcastic? No.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I was a lot worse back then. Had the worst chip on my shoulder. I'd get angry about anything and everything. Took things that weren't serious way too seriously. Wasn't serious enough about things I should have been serious about. Cocky as hell.”

Buck picked up another picture, looking over every detail.

“I used to pretend he wasn't me, actually,” Tommy continued, gaining Buck's attention once again.

“How so?”

“When I got discharged, after I got home, I threw everything army related into that box out there and shoved it in the back of my closet. Ironic, right?” he quipped. Buck smiled. “Anyway, when memories would weasel their way into my head, I'd do just about anything to get them out. Even when I worked under Gerrard and was still a cocky dick, I tried to make myself feel better by pretending this guy,” he held up another photo, “didn't exist.”

“When'd you change your mind?”

“When I started going to therapy. Learned to embrace who I was instead of try to run from it. Running doesn't really work anyway when you're trying to get away from yourself.”

Buck looked through a few more of the photos before speaking again. “Why were you discharged?”

Tommy looked genuinely surprised by the question. “I never told you?”

“No.”

“Wow. Here I was thinking we knew each other inside out.”

“Well, technically.” Buck wiggled his eyebrows.

Tommy laughed, shook his head. He moved some of the pictures around until he found a certain one. He showed it to Buck. It was four guys sitting next to one another in the middle of the desert. Three of them, including Tommy, had their middle fingers raised high in the air. The guy at the end held two fingers up in a peace sign.

“See the guy with the peace sign?”

Buck nodded. “Mhm.”

“He's the reason I was discharged. Shockingly, out of everyone in that photo, he was the biggest ass of all.”

“What happened?”

“I joined in 2002, and I was deployed immediately after I finished flight school. It was 2003 by then, but 9/11 was still fresh in everyone's mind, and they needed soldiers. I was originally deployed for six months, but that turned into a year, and then an extra three months was added to that. I had two months left when that guy showed up. His name's Hunter, by the way," he spoke the man's name with distain.

Buck took a closer look at the man. He looked a couple years older than Tommy. He had dark hair, darker eyes, a nice smile. Even though they were sitting, Buck could tell he was shorter than the rest of the guys in the picture. It appeared he tried to make up for his height by working out. He was broader than the others.

“Hunter,” Tommy continued, “seemed to fit right in with the rest of us. He was quieter though, which I kinda liked. So many people in the army were aggressively loud, all the time, so he was a nice change.”

“This story doesn't end happily, does it?”

Tommy looked at him and grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. “He and I worked together a lot. Maybe it was something about the fact he was so quiet that it made me feel safer to, I don't know, to be more open with him. That's my mistake. Over the span of a month we'd gotten to know each other pretty well. Honestly, I thought he was coming on to me sometimes but you didn't say anything about that back then.”

“Don't ask, don't tell.” Buck knew exactly where this was going.

Tommy nodded. “He came to me one evening. Said he had to get something off his chest. Told me he had all these feelings for me and wondered if I felt the same. I-” Tommy paused, took a breath. Buck took the opportunity to reach over and take his hand, squeezing it tight. “I said I did. Said we couldn't do anything about it, but that I liked him more than I probably should. He, um, he recorded my part of the conversation.”

Buck sigh, squeezed his eyes shut. “God.”

“I don't know how he could tell, you know? I'd spent fourteen months with some of these guys and no one had ever suspected a thing. But, the next day I was called in for a meeting with my CO, and he played the tape for me. Told me I was a good soldier, but he couldn't have that type of behavior in the field. He said he'd be kind though and give me a general discharge so it wouldn't look as bad in my records.”

“I- I don't even know what to say, Tommy. That's terrible, honestly. I don't know why that was ever even a thing, and that guy was so stupid and-”

Tommy squeezed Buck's hand now, smiling at him gently. “It was a long time ago, babe. It's okay, I'm okay,” he reassured him. “A lot of people had it much worse than I did. Lots of them got dishonorably discharged, some were beaten up, some were murdered. I was lucky, really.”

Buck felt on the verge of tears now. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn't break as he spoke. “It doesn't make what happened to you right though.”

“I know. Like I said, I wasn't the best person then either. But,” he glanced over the photos, “this guy's me, whether I like it or not.”

Buck scooted closer to Tommy, taking Tommy's arm and wrapping his own around it, “I like it,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to Tommy's bicep. The words garnered a questioning look from Tommy. “Without this guy,” Buck explained, “you wouldn't be who you are now, and I like who you are now. I love who you are now.”

Tommy took his free hand and brought two fingers up to Buck's chin, lifting it until their eyes met. “I really, really love you,” he said before leaning in for a kiss.

Buck hummed into it. No matter how many times they'd done it, something about kissing Tommy always made him emotional. Like another weight was lifted from his body every time their lips met.

“We really need to get back to unpacking,” Tommy murmured as they parted, but Buck made no effort to move.

“We're both off tomorrow too,” Buck replied, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder and closing his eyes. “It can wait.”

Sometimes Tommy wondered how he got here. How he ever got lucky enough to end up with someone like Evan. Someone so loving and forgiving. Someone who loved him and his flaws. Someone who made him feel free. Tommy settled further into the couch, pressing a kiss to the top of Buck's head. “Yeah,” he agreed, “it can wait.”

[sturniololuvrer]

𝚁𝙾𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙸𝙲𝙴 18+ 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸

𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: dom!, rough! Chris and switch! Matt x switch!, fem! reader

𝙿𝚕𝚘𝚝: you’re best friends with the triplets and tag along with Matt and Chris to Vegas. While in the hotel room, you all stumble upon an intimacy kit…—based on Matt’s Vegas TikTok!

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: threesome (no incest ew), hanjob, oral (m! receiving), edging, unprotected p in v, creampie, a bit of degration. (sorry if I missed a few this is insane)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 4,253

𝚊/𝚗: I started this in JULY and I’m just now posting this lmfao This is my first time ever writing, so my plot is a little iffy, just bear with me! I really enjoyed writing this, so send me ideas for blurbs and other fics if you want more! Some constructive criticism on the fic itself and my layout is greatly appreciated! Enjoy! xx

You stand in the hallway of a hotel in Vegas, suitcase in hand as you watch Chris struggle to unlock the room you’ll be staying in. You’re best friends with the triplets and you were all invited to Vegas to watch the slap boxing competition. Nick couldn’t come because he was going to a concert, so it was just the three of you for a few days.

You’ve always had a crush on both of them, so being alone with them like this for so long might make something happen (you’re hoping at least). They both feel the same about you, even having talked about it before and deciding if anything were to happen, and you were fine with it, of course, they’d share you.

Chris finally unlocks the door and trudges inside. “God damn, finally.” Matt says rolling his eyes at Chris as he walks inside, you trailing behind him. “Fuck you! My hands were full and it’s not like you were doing anything to help!” Chris bites back. You sigh, annoyed. They’ve been fighting nonstop since we woke up at 5am this morning to get to the airport. Before they can continue, you speak up on how luxurious the hotel is “wow! This place is huge!”

Matt had opened his mouth to yell at Chris but you spoke before he could and they both begin to look around. “Oh my god…I feel like I’m the president or something!” Chris exclaimed. You laugh and grab both of their hands. “Let’s look at the rest of the place!” You all explore the huge place, going from room to room and finish in the living room. You all sit on the couch and decide to relax and watch tv for a while before you have to leave to see the competition.

After a few hours, you go to get ready before them, having to do your hair and makeup. Soon, you finish, sliding a lilac, short skirt on as the finishing touch. You walk out of the bathroom back into the living room where the boys are already ready to leave. You bend down and start putting on your black converse.

Matt and Chris’s eyes rake over your back and ass as you do such a simple task. You quickly stand up and turn around, startling them. “Okay I’m ready!”, you say excitedly. Matt coughs, clearing his throat as Chris replies, “uh yeah- yeah, okay let’s go.” You look at him confused with an eyebrow raised, but don’t say a word and walk to the door.

After a long night, you all went to bed as soon as you got back to the hotel. Now, you’re sitting at the dining table the next morning, eating waffles that the hotel provided. “Chris I can’t believe you used the bidet!” Matt grimaced. “Don’t knock it til’ you try it, brother.” Chris replied, mouth full of bacon. “Yeah that’s NEVER happening!” Matt yelled, shivering from disgust at the mere thought of it.

You laugh and stand up, walking to the kitchen to look at the jars of candy the hotel had to offer. They follow you and Matt reaches over you “what’s this?” he asks as he grabs the cylindrical container. You all lean in and read the top of it. ‘Intimacy kit’ is written on it in bold, cursive letters. “WHAT?!” You all scream in unison as Chris snatches it from Matt.

“We have to see what’s in here” he states as he starts pulling the lid off. You groan, face palming “Oh Chris, don’t do it.” “Come on it can’t be that baddd” Matt elbows you playfully. You look at him, unconvinced and look back to Chris as he grabs a small bag of stuff out of the container. “Oh we got a condom...and some horny dice.” He says, looking around the bag before putting the lid back on.

“What dice?!?” You exclaim, grabbing it from him. You pull the lid off and open the bag. “Wow, someone really wants those horny dice”, Chris teases, smirking. “Shut up! I just want to know what’s on them!” You say, not even looking up from the bag as you dig the dice out.

“Oh what the hell!” Matt says, looking at the dice and putting a hand over his mouth, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks. In your hand there was two dice, on one there was pictures of various body parts and on the other there was words like ‘kiss’, ‘suck’, or ‘bite’. You and Matt look at your hand, horrified at what you’re seeing as Chris just smirks. “Why don’t you give them a roll?” He asks you, getting close to your ear.

You whip your head around at his insinuation and back away from him in shock, right into Matt, forgetting he was there. You stumble slightly, the dice flying over the counter as Matt catches you into his chest, holding your arms. “Ha! You rolled them!” Chris cheers as he quickly checks to see what you accidentally rolled. You stay leaned it to Matt, terrified of what it is. “You rolled a picture of a pair of lips and ‘kiss’!” Chris laughs.

Matt’s fingers that are still holding your arms twitch slightly at his words. You scoff, “okay? What do you want me to do with this information?” You reply sarcastically. “Do it.” He says seriously. You laugh, turning to look at Matt to see what he thinks, expecting him to be just as confused as you, but his face is as serious as Chris’s. You look between the two of them for a second, confused, waiting for them to stop, you’re heart pounding.

After they don’t, you push yourself away from Matt and roll your eyes. “Okay I’m going to my room, come get me when you’re done being freaks.”, you say, assuming they’re pranking you, so you avoid getting your hopes up. As you go to walk away, Matt silently grabs your wrist tightly, making sure you don’t leave. You stop abruptly and turn around, shocked. “Matt? What are you doing??” You look up at him as he’s still silent, his usual bright eyes are now dark, sending a shiver down your spine. You look to Chris, giving him a ‘what’s going on?’ look. He shrugs and says simply, “you rolled the dice.”

You roll your eyes at them both again. “Are you two actually serious??” You yell. They just continue staring at you, seriously, their lips formed into lines. You throw your hands in the air as best as you can as Matt keeps a tight grip on your wrist. “Okay fine! So just to be clear you’re saying you want me to kiss you both….on the lips?!” You yell again. “It’s what the dice said, isn’t it?” Matt finally speaks.

“Oh my fucking god” you groan under your breath. “I knew I should’ve went to see Melanie with Nick.” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance. “Which one of you pervs is first?” You finally ask. Matt quickly pulls you closer to him by your wrist and you gasp lightly at his eagerness. Your eyes widen, shocked as you look from Matt to Chris. “What the hell is wrong with you both?” You ask, never seeing them act this way before.

Matt speaks up again, swallowing nervously. “I-I don’t know I just want you so bad”. “F-fuck, me too...” Chris says, coming closer. You gasp at their admissions and look between them. Matt groans lightly before grabbing your wrist again, pulling you to the couch. He pulls you to sit next to him, as Chris sits in the other side of you. You sit there for a moment, looking between them. “You gonna kiss us or what?” Chris says impatiently. “Seriously??” you ask, hoping they were just joking about the whole thing. “Yes! You rolled the dice, now do it!” Chris says sternly.

You look to Matt, hoping he’d let you off the hook, but he just shakes his head. “Some help you are…” you scoff under your breath, turning back to Chris. “Come on! Don’t be a pussy! It’s just a kiss.” Chris taunts. You clench your jaw angrily, Chris’s words getting to you. “God! you’re such a loser, fine!” You roll your eyes and lean into him, kissing him on the lips harshly as you’re angry and annoyed. He quickly grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap.

“Chris!” You yell, pulling away in shock. He groans lowly, practically whimpering as he speaks, “…been wanting you on my lap for so long…” Before you can answer he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for more. Matt watches, patiently waiting his turn as Chris licks your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you.

He shoves his tongue in your mouth as it opens and you yelp, gripping his biceps. He explores your mouth before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting you. All you can do is breathe heavily and stare at him in disbelief. He smirks at you before Matt speaks impatiently. “Okay it’s my turn now”, grasping your arm and tugging at you. You get off of Chris’s lap as Matt drags you over and sliding you into his.

Still shaken up from Chris’s previous actions, you nervously lean in to Matt and kiss him. He immediately groans into the kiss, hugging your waist tightly with both arms. You deepen the kiss and he instinctively bucks his hips up into you. You moan lightly into his mouth, feeling him through his pants.

You gain a little more confidence as you slip your tongue into Matt’s mouth just as Chris had done to you minutes ago. He moans around your tongue, dancing his around yours. You begin to grind your hips down onto his, eliciting a breathy groan from him. You continue this for a few minutes, kissing him harshly and swallowing his whimpers.

He pulls away quickly, whining softly “Fuck…I need you so bad…please” Matt begs. Your eyebrows raise at his neediness, you glance at Chris and smirk lightly. “Okay, okay. Calm down.” You reassure Matt, rubbing your hands over his back. He sighs deeply, relaxing into your touch. “Do you want me to touch you?” You ask him. His eyes widen and he nods frantically.

“Y-yes! Fuck! please!” “Okay…I can do that…since you asked so nicely….” You say as you slowly get off of his lap and bring your knees to the carpet in front of the couch, trailing your hands down his body along the way. His breathing becomes heavy and he gulps nervously as he watches you. You glance over to Chris, still seated on the couch a few feet away, his fists are balled up at his sides and his jaw is clenched, visibly upset that you didn’t argue with Matt at all like you had with him over the kiss.

You grin at Chris, sliding your hands up Matt’s thighs to his belt, beginning to undo it and he arches his back into your touch. “How long have you been wanting this? hmm baby?” You ask him, cooing as you remove his belt and rub your hands over his inner thighs. Matt’s cheeks flush a dark red, embarrassed at how he’s acting. “F-fuck! W-way too long…oh god.”

His whining has you clenching around air and moaning lightly. “God damn it…” you groan under your breath. “What? You getting worked up?” Chris asks tilting his head, faux concern lacing his voice. You just glare at him and begin to unbutton Matt’s pants. He groans loudly and lifts his hips, helping you pull them down and you toss them to the floor next to you.

You look down and see that he has a huge wet spot in his boxers from the amount of precum he’s produced. You rub his thighs sympathetically then hook your fingers into his waistband, looking up at him for extra permission. He just nods quickly, his eyes lust-filled. You take that as a yes and slowly pull his boxers down, his dick hitting his stomach as you free him.

He hisses at the feeling of the cold air on him. Your eyes widen at the realization of what you’ve gotten yourself into, he’s huge…and there’s no doubt that Chris is as well. “Oh god….” You gasp out. “What��s wrong? Too big for you?” Chris asks degradingly. You shoot him a glare as you think of what you want to do with Matt.

You decide to mess with him a bit and slowly trail your hands on Matt’s stomach and thighs as close to his dick as possible without touching it. He whines and writhes. “Please! Need you to touch me so bad!” He pleads. You ignore him, wanting to tease him more. As you continue touching around him, you lean down, blowing cool air over his dick. His body arches up off the couch lightly as he moans loudly.

“Please, please, please touch me! Fuck! I- can’t!” You laugh lightly at his desperation before you finally give into him, just barely grazing your pointer finger up the underside of him. He cries out and bucks his hips into your finger. You continue moving your finger up and down, trailing over the veins of his dick.

He whimpers “p-please I need more…” you hush him lightly, cooing “be patient baby…” He lets his head fall against the back of the couch, trying to be good for you. You twirl your finger around his tip, soaking your finger in pre-cum, before wrapping your pointer finger and thumb around it, moving up and down lightly.

He moans as you touch such a sensitive area, bucking his hips into your fingers. You spit some of your saliva down onto his dick before finally wrapping your entire hand around him and pumping slowly. He practically screams your name at the sudden change in pleasure, fucking into your hand. “Oh f- oh god! So good!” He barely gets out.

You slowly start moving faster, each time you reach his tip you slide your thumb over it, making him tremble and whimper. He’s enjoying this so much he feels like he’s going to go insane, his eyes fluttering shut. You grin as you look up at him, watching his reactions. “You okay Matt?…am I doing okay?” You ask lightly.

As soon as you finish speaking he nods frantically, “y-yes! -so good! You’re doing so good! Please- fuck- don’t stop…” he moans. You giggle lightly at his answer before moving faster. After a while he grunts loudly, bucking into your hand “oh fuck! Oh- god! I’m s-so close! please!” He gasps out.

You grin at his pleading and start to move your hand as fast as you can. “Come on Matt…cum for me. You can do it.” You praise as he throws his head back, moaning loudly as thick, white ropes cover your hand and his stomach. You look at him as he’s catching his breath and slowly lick his cum from your hand. Matt moans, bucking his hips lightly and Chris groans from afar at the sight.

You lean down to clean Matt’s tip off next, but before you could, Chris grabs your arm, bringing you back onto the couch. “Do it up here…wanna touch you” he growls. You gasp at his actions before settling on your elbows and knees, pulling Matt into the position you want and slowly lean down, arching your back as you lick his cum from the tip of his dick. Matt moans loudly, shaking at the feeling as he’s becoming overstimulated.

Chris groans at the sight of your legs spread lightly, your clothed ass and pussy just inches away from him. He quickly takes advantage of this and starts moving his hands over your body. You moan lightly as you start to lick up Matt’s dick from his base to his tip over and over again, making him writhe. Chris slips his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down harshly.

You yelp lightly at his forceful action, helping him pull them off the rest of the way. You arch your back a bit more to tease him, your ass raising higher. He groans at the side, slapping a hand down over one of your cheeks, making you gasp and jolt into Matt. “C-Chris!” You gasp out, a mixture of shock and arousal coursing through your body. He chuckles darkly at that, “don’t act like a tease if you don’t wanna get treated like one…”

You whimper softly at his words, trying to keep up your sarcastic attitude, but nothing comes to mind so you just lay there, your hand slowly stroking Matt, the only sound is his heavy breathing and small whimpers. Chris chuckles again, moving to drape his body over your back, nipping at your ear as he whispers into it. “mmm what happened to that little mouth of yours?” You just huff softly, annoyed at his words, but too desperate to fight him.

Chris smirks, enjoying that you’re not fighting him as he wraps his arms around your waist, pushing his cold fingers up your shirt, making you shiver. He trails them over your stomach and sides languidly, teasing you. After a while and you start to huff and squirm, he glides his hands up, skimming his fingers over the lace of your bra. He leans forward a bit, nipping at your ear again, a little harder before speaking, “Can I take more of your clothes off?” You nod softly, sitting up a bit to make it easier.

He grins, sliding your shirt off quickly. He takes in the sight of your bra as best as he can from the angle he’s at before he slides his hands over your back, unclasping it. You help him slide the straps down your arms. Both of them practically drool at the sight of your freed tits, making you blush softly.

Chris doesn’t waste any time, kneading them both in his hands which forces a moan from you. He chuckles, rolling your nipples in his fingers. “Fuck!” You gasp out, writhing at the feeling, which causes you to grind into him. He groans, pinching them, which elicits a loud whine from you. “Chris!” You call out, grinding into him more.

He grunts, his hips bucking into you involuntarily. He can’t take it anymore, sliding his hands to your back and pushing your upper body back into Matt. You grip Matt’s thighs and arch your back for Chris again, bringing your knees up more. Chris hums approvingly, sliding his hands down your hips and over the curve of your ass, squeezing it. “Arched so pretty f’me, hm?”

You bite your lip, nodding “all for you…” He grins, hooking his fingers into your underwear, sliding them down. He groans softly as they stick to your sopping pussy a bit, a string of your wetness connecting you to them, making his dick twitch in his jeans. He finally pulls them off, tossing them away.

Matt watches intently, enjoying the way you blush at Chris seeing your most intimate area. He strokes your cheeks softly as you look up at him. “It’s okay baby…you’re beautiful and Chris is just enjoying it…right Chris?” Chris snaps out of his trance as he was staring at your slick folds, clearing his throat. “Y-yeah…yes…* He caresses your hips, “you’re so beautiful…”

You sigh softly at the praise, not used to compliments or genuine kindness from Chris. You calm down a bit before you hear the clink of metal from Chris’s belt. He groans softly “gonna fill you up so good baby…you want that?” You moan softly at his words “fuck- yes…please.” He grins, shoving his pants and boxers down, his thick, long cock slapping against his stomach.

Chris moves closer to you, sliding his dick through your wetness, not pushing inside, just slicking himself up. You whimper, gripping Matt’s thighs harshly, causing him to whimper himself. Chris chuckles, lining his dick to your entrance “you ready?” You nod quickly, arching your back more. He slowly pushes his tip inside, which already has you writhing. He hisses, speaking hoarsely, “gotta relax baby…”

He pushes in deeper, causing you to whine and pant, clawing at Matt. Matt groans, his hips bucking involuntarily. You shakily move your hand to wrap around him again, pumping him softly as Chris slides even deeper. You whimper, your hand clenching around Matt at the feeling, making him whine and writhe. You quickly catch yourself, loosening your grip and replacing your hand with your mouth, sucking his tip into your mouth.

Matt moans lowly, his fingers tangling into your hair as Chris bottoms out inside you. You whine loudly around Matt as you feel Chris’s tip brushing against your cervix. Matt groans at the feeling, pushing your head down further as Chris grinds into your cervix. This sends you reeling, writhing and whimpering at the overwhelming feeling.

Chris grins before he starts to move, starting off with a very fast pace as Matt, moves your head even further in him. Chris’s pace pushes Matt deeper down your throat, making you both whimper. You dig your fingers into Matt’s thighs as Chris moves harsher, slamming into you.

“Fuck, you’re so…tight” Chris grunts out, gripping your hips harshly as he continues his thrusts. You try your best to continue moving over Matt, but it’s not enough apparently, as he grips your hair tightly, thrusting his hips up into your mouth. You whine and moan as best as you can around Matt, practically going limp as you’re impaled on both ends.

Matt groans, his hips moving erratically “shit…I’m gonna cum…” he breathes out before biting his lip. Chris starts to move even faster, his pace brutal as he slams into you, forcing you over Matt more. You cry out, looking up at Matt desperately and moving your tongue over him as best as you can.

Matt moans loudly “fuck!” He cums down your throat, his hips stuttering as he does. Chris leans down, quickly wrapping his hand around your throat, his thrusts slowing. His grip causes you to choke and sputter a bit as Matt is still deep in your throat.

“Swallow it…every drop.” Chris whispers into your ear, knowing his brother won’t make you. You whimper softly, swallowing Matt’s cum. Matt whimpers as he feels your throat close around him, shuddering. Chris pats your cheek, before sitting back up and picking his relentless pace back up “good girl.”

Matt’s grip on your hair loosens and he slips out of your mouth. You take deep breaths as best as you can as you’re still being thrown into him because of Chris’s thrusts. Chris grins, moving even harder, you didn’t even know that was possible, but it has you almost screaming.

If there was people around your hotel room, they’d most definitely hear you getting your back blown, but none of you could seem to care. Matt reaches down, his fingers rubbing your clit in fast circles. This has you writhing and moaning loudly. “Fuck! I’m so close!”

Chris grunts, gripping your hips harsher, surely leaving bruises. “Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock?” You nod quickly, moaning louder. After a few more of his brutal thrusts, you see white, practically screaming their names as waves of pleasure flow through you.

Your body convulses and you clench around Chris harshly. Chris’s breath hitches as he feels you tighten around him, but he keeps going, his pace not faltering. You whine and moan at the overstimulation, “fuck Chris!” He continues slamming into you, speaking hoarsely “Where do you want it? Hm?…Where do you want me to cum, baby?” You barely register his words as he continues, “i-inside! Please!” you cry out.

He grunts, his hips stuttering at your words “fuck I’m gonna cum…” He starts to move erratically. Matt’s hand is still working your clit, so this sends you reeling into another orgasm, clenching even harder around Chris this time. “Fuck!” Chris cries out, he pushes himself deep inside you and with a loud moan, he’s cumming inside you, painting your spasming walls white. You whimper at the feeling, still clenching around him as Matt’s hand slides away from your clit, whispering sweet praises to you.

After a minute, Chris finally pulls out slowly, his cum dripping out of you. You go limp against the hotel couch, panting harshly. Matt caresses your cheeks softly as Chris scurries to get a towel to clean you up “you did so good baby…”

You nuzzle into his touch, sighing. Chris finally comes back and cleans you up softly. They help you put your clothes back on, sitting you up normally on the couch, before putting their own on.

Chris gently runs his fingers through your hair as he sits next to you, a stark contrast to how he was minutes before. “You okay baby?…was I too rough?” You shake your head softly, assuring him you’re okay. He smiles and kisses you softly, wrapping you in a blanket as Matt plops down on the other side of you. “Nick is gonna be so pissed at us…” His comment makes you all bust out laughing.

a/n: omg this was sooo long I’m so sorry lol thank you so much for reading my first fic if you got all the way here! I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you all enjoyed it! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any future posts in the comments or just talk to me! I’ll most likely answer every comment! Likes and follows are really appreciated so I can grow my page! xx

[darsynia]

Forgiven: joYOUs | CEO Steve/f!Reader series Part III

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | Ro Roll | Prev Fic

Summary: You and Steve Rogers have been dating for a little over two months, and it's been wonderful. Through it all you've asked yourself if it could possibly be real--but when he finally invites you to stay over at his apartment, you realize that being 'real' has as much to do with his complicated issues at work as it does being a Hallmark movie protagonist brought to life.

WC/Warnings: 5,200 // explicit sex

As 6/7 of my Ro Roll badly-belated-birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, joYOUs is part III in my CEO Steve and f!Freader series. This story also (more lightly than intended) is written for the 'first fall of snow' prompt for @the-slumberparty's December Daze!

Can be read standalone!

Excerpt:

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs.

Joyous

You’ve tried not to read anything into the 36 hours of no-contact since Steve left on his business trip. He had warned you that he would be ‘can’t check the phone’ kind of busy, but you also know that his stress has ramped up considerably with the holidays coming up. You suspect that the café project hadn’t been enough of a respite--but you’d promised yourself not to push him too hard about his burnout, and that includes acting like it’s no big deal that you haven’t talked for a while. 

Just normal early relationship stuff, really.

That all drops away like an uncomfortable bra after a long day at work when you get a text at 10 PM Friday night.

🪴🪴🪴: We still on for tomorrow at 7? I’ve been thinking about you since the plane took off from LaGuardia.

🪴🪴🪴: Whoops i

🪴🪴🪴: was only supposed to send that first part.

🪴🪴🪴: Hit enter too e

🪴🪴🪴: Buck give me back the phone. Don’t send her anything, okay? You’re hopeless, man. You have to leave some mystery. If she had any idea how much you talked about her while we were gone, she’d probably quit her job and leave the state. What’s. Oh shit it’s recording. How do I make it. Give it back. Bucky I mean it just put it down before you screwdriver

Screwdriver?

The (thrilling) mess of words take a minute or two to detangle, and once you parse the dictated back-and-forth, you realize that Steve’s subsequent silence is probably mortification. Adorable mortification.

The phone rings on silent mode, buzzing wildly in your hand. Surprise makes you drop it on your lap like it’s alive-- which it might as well be, because the vibration sends it jittering across your indulgent silk pajamas and onto the floor.

“Shit!” you gasp out, knowing that any delay in answering will probably make everything much worse. You scramble off the bed in a move so inelegant your sister calls out asking if you’ve joined her in Broken Leg Land. “I’m fine, just an idiot!” you holler, finally grabbing the phone from your crumpled position on the bedroom floor.

“That’s not true at all!” Steve Rogers’ voice echoes from the speakers. You must have  brushed the ‘answer’ part when you picked it up, because of course that would happen.

“Oh my god, is there a deity of phones I’ve badly wronged today?” you gasp out, bringing the thing gingerly up to your ear. Thankfully, he’s chuckling, and damn, it’s sexy.

“Seems like it. Should we call this a draw?” he suggests, adding, “I evicted the phone thief, sorry about that. He just wants what’s best for me.”

“Which would be… screwdrivers?” you offer, grinning despite your rational brain screaming at you not to sound overeager. “You somehow don’t strike me as an orange juice and vodka kind of guy.”

“You’re right, and that was a nice deflect.” There’s gratitude as well as sheepishness in Steve’s voice. When paired with the ‘forbidden truths’ in the dictated texts, you may be sitting on the floor in twisted-up PJs, but your mind and heart are floating on a cloud somewhere high above Manhattan. “Should I send a car tomorrow?”

Surprise snarls the response in your throat into a twisted um-cough combo that is entirely indelicate. “Sorry, yes, that, yes,” you manage, kicking yourself. He runs a company, having a car service probably doesn’t seem impersonal to him, even though he’s always picked you up or met you somewhere before this. The Maiden Aunt in your brain tries to argue that the magic is over, but she’s drowned out by College TA, who thinks this is a step up in statistical importance.

Some girls get a devil on their shoulder, but you ended up with a pessimist and an overachiever.

“How about a do-over,” Steve says, interrupting your mental chaos. “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yes!” you say in a flood of relief. “I’m sorry, you said ‘send a car’ and all I could picture was one of those movies where someone in livery holds up a piece of paper with my name--”

He interrupts before you can gnaw past the foot in your mouth and up onto the ankle.

“I don’t mind driving, don’t worry. See you at seven, then.” With that, CEO Eye, Ear, and Heart Candy hangs up, leaving you in a flustered, anticipatory mess on the floor in your bedroom.

Jennie gives you relentless shit over that whole sequence of events, but she also gives you access to her closet. You’ve already run through your handful of fancy dresses on dates with Steve, and everything else gives you ‘someday I might go clubbing’ or ‘student on a budget’ vibes.

Your sister’s tastes run more expensive than yours, and she’s always been a fan of modular clothing-- skirts that wrap around, blouses with 3x as much fabric as necessary that end up folding and twisting into a masterpiece, etc. It’s worked out well for her while she’s laid up with a broken leg, but the unusual style might help you keep up appearances. You choose a black form-fitting pants topped with a silky wraparound blouse; hopefully they’ll look sophisticated enough for your first visit to Steve’s apartment.

True to form, Jennie makes three ‘wrapped present’ jokes about the two ribbon-tied sections of your shirt before you make it out the door.

Steve is waiting beside his car when you come outside. He’s clearly come from work, wearing tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt that looks so good you’re practically overheating in the brisk winter air. Then he smiles at you, and your body takes a detour from ‘visit to Arizona’ straight down to ‘the Brazilian Rainforest,’ all innuendo included.

Oblivious to your secretly disrespectful ogling, Steve moves to escort you to your car door, standing deliciously close by as he opens it. His aftershave smells heady and masculine, distracting enough that you turn your heel a little bit on the seam of the sidewalk. Your unbuttoned coat swings back and his hand moves to steady you, fingers tangling in the red ribbon holding your blouse together on that side.

“Oh!” you gasp, half because of his sheer strength and half because good god, if that bow comes undone on the street you’re not sure how much you’re even going to care right now. You gently grasp his hand (finding that, yep, the sizzling live wire connection on physical contact is still active), salvaging the knot for the sake of your sanity.

“Wow,” Steve breathes in a low voice that sends its resonance whizzing through your whole body. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur intelligently.

You’re never going to tell your sister how many mental seconds it’s taken you to go from 0 to head over heels for this man.

“Do you need me to adjust the buckle? You were making a face,” Steve explains.

“Oh, no, I was coming up with something suitably embarrassing to text my nagging sister so she doesn’t send me ‘romantic suggestions’ all night,” you admit. “She means well, but I think she’s been watching too many Hallmark Christmas movies. Nothing I do or say will measure up!”

He chuckles. “I won’t comment on what my own nag might have to say on the outcome of the evening.”

“You mean the professional phone thief? He owes you, not the other way around! Telling secrets on dictation while your friend’s planning to bring a girl home-- and then sending it? Hung, drawn, and quartered.”

“Well, the method of delivery may have been terrible,” Steve says, looking over at you while paused at a red light, “--but none of that was a secret.”

The light changes, and just like Jennie’s favorite movies, he holds your gaze instead of driving on. You’re suddenly very aware of everywhere your clothing touches you, especially at your chest, where the fabric of your blouse clings to your curves. When you pull in a breath, Steve’s attention dips down to appreciate them, too.

“Eyes on the road, CEO Eye Candy,” you tease (not for the first time), and his expression scrunches up into easy laughter.

There’s an older, well-dressed couple in the parking garage to his building when you arrive, and the four of you ride the elevator up together until you and Steve step out. Just before the doors close, you catch the woman looking up at her husband fondly, nodding toward the two of you. No pressure! you think to yourself again, but then Steve opens the door to his apartment and smiles with such honest happiness that you forget everything else but him.

Just like he is, the main room is a charming mix of vintage and modern, with warm wood accents and high-tech amenities. There’s something both open and intimate that hits you right away; the floor is dotted with comforting rugs, the walls with bookcases, creating cozy little nooks, but the lamplight is warm and inviting throughout.

“I need to start the oven,” Steve says with a light touch to your arm, gesturing to take your coat. You nod and hand it over before you step farther in, finally letting yourself glance beyond the bookshelves of classics and the homey crochet afghan to the view. 

It’s completely captivating. The wall of windows face east, showing the lively cityscape to glorious effect (and you can’t help but picture what the sunrise would look like!). It suddenly hits you that you’re in Steve’s space. There are no phones to ring and save you from a misstep, no waitress to break the tension, no dog running past chasing its ball in the grass.

If he sees just how far gone you are on him already, will Steve think you’re a gold-digger, or will he understand that you can’t help but be dazzled and drawn in by the kind of man he is, not the things he surrounds himself with?

“Are you all right?” Steve asks. You startle, making eye contact with his reflection in the window, and something about the intimacy of that makes you tell the absolute truth.

“I’m realizing there are no flowerpots to hide behind.”

He smiles and moves closer, one hand casually in his pocket. When he’s just near enough that you can feel his warmth through the back of your blouse, Steve tips his head in a move that bleeds sincerity, still holding your gaze.

“What if you didn’t have to hide?”

You can’t look away. “What if that doesn’t make me any less shy?”

“Makes it all the more rewarding to earn that smile of yours,” Steve says, moving to face you instead of the view.

The weight of where you are, who you’re with, and how much it means to you keeps your gaze glued to the view outside the window, but the city lights blur a little with the frequency of your blinking. You want to reassure him that the shyness is good actually, that it means you really like him, that what he thinks about you is important--

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs. You can’t help but toss him the Skeptical Eyebrow, despite your heart voting on the ‘melt’ option. “I’m being serious,” he goes on. “Honesty is in rare supply for much of my day-to-day. Suppliers expect us to push for cheaper materials, manufacturers are uncomfortable with flexible deadlines, and we’ve fired multiple product designers who get upset by how much we rely on end-user feedback.” He lets out a long sigh, punctuating it with a rueful laugh. “I felt more relaxed with the construction crew than I do with my so-called ‘peers.’”

The frustrated defeat in his tone makes you step close to tuck yourself up against his side, hugging him with an arm around his back. Steve’s arm comes around you right away, and god, you wish you could bottle that feeling. The two of you have shared quite a few toe-curling kisses, but physical affection like this is exciting, despite being prompted by Steve’s ongoing business concerns.

It’s easy to believe that this part of your life isn’t real when you’re at work answering phones and giving directions. You’re never prepared for the way Steve tips your life upside down, and in a way that makes moments like this more magical. Late at night, you do sometimes worry your job at his company makes it harder for him to disconnect.

With his heartbeat thrumming under your cheek and his arm tucked around you, that concern feels as far away as the streetlights visible across the city. There’s still a thread of tenseness in his embrace that tells you he’s not as relaxed as you are. You might not have the money to take him out for a fancy dinner or attend an exclusive event, but you can show him he’s wanted.

“So what you’re saying is that we should brainstorm another building project for the lobby? Preferably within sightlines of the front desk?”

You get to feel his laugh before you hear it.

“Oh, I wish. I’ve actually started looking into Habitat For Humanity, a couple of other hands-on charities,” Steve tells you, squeezing you tighter against him for a second or two. “They’ve got experience with higher profile contributors, safety concerns, that sort of thing.”

The moment hangs. Humor isn’t enough.

“That doesn’t solve the underlying problem though, because the problem isn’t you,” you realize aloud.

“You’re right.” Steve kisses your hairline, but you can sense that his metaphorically held breath isn’t going to release like this. You’re struck by the rightness of your reflection; the two of you fit together so well visually that it’s easy to miss his job insecurities and your uncertain future. Movement beyond the surface catches your eye, and you realize it’s the perfect way to break the tension.

“Oh! It’s snowing!”

“Those are some giant snowflakes.” He hugs you to him briefly before stepping over to a small panel on the wall. “May I?”

The more time you spend with him, the braver you feel. “I’m going to say yes, even though I don’t know what you’re asking.”

Steve’s answering smile is blindingly handsome. “Watch,” he says, nodding to the view. A second later the lights in the room dim or shut off, heightening the glowing cityscape outside. There’s a beauty to the familiar hodgepodge of buildings, more so with the fairy dust of snow drifting down from above.

“It’s like a snowglobe,” you say, tearing your eyes away from the scene to look at Steve. To your surprise, he’s not looking outside, he’s looking at you.

“May I?” he asks again. Heart pounding, you nod, and he walks toward you, his features thrown into sharp relief by the dim light. When Steve finally reaches you, the anticipation has doused you with fuel set alight by the touch of his hand at your cheek. 

This kiss is nothing like the gentle exploration that was your first with Steve. Where then you were still learning each other, this is knowledge. He lifts you up against him effortlessly, his thumb tangling with the ties of your blouse in a way that pulls it taut against your breasts. You let out a gasp as he kisses his way down from your neck over to the neckline of your blouse, making a begging sound of his own.

It sounds like enough of a ‘May I?’ that you whisper, “Yes.”

In three large strides he’s at the couch, setting you onto your feet as he sweeps the afghan and pillows out of the way. When he turns to face you again, you offer him the end of the ribbon tie holding your blouse together.

The reverence with which Steve pulls it loose is sexy as hell, but you absolutely adore the way he locks eyes with you and keeps your gaze when the fabric falls away. You pull in a ragged breath, and his gaze sharpens.

“What do you want?” he asks, his own answer ringing in the undertones.

You want everything, as far into the future as fate allows, but you force yourself to focus on the here and now. “I-- God, I just want you. I want-- oh!” You press your lips together to stop yourself, shy again. There’s honesty, and then there’s honesty. In that confident but gentle way he has, Steve knows exactly what to say.

“Whatever it is, yes.”

He takes your hand and backs the few inches to the couch, sitting down and tugging gently, a clear but respectful invitation. Steve takes a few seconds to just look at you, his eyes tracing across your features and down to the structure of your blouse. He’d mentioned his sketchbook at one of your early-on dates but never elaborated; now the way he unerringly follows each ribbon with his eyes, fingertips, and then lips make you feel like a work of art.

By the time your shirt drops to the floor, you’re practically drunk on the honest arousal you can taste on his lips--and you’re still mostly dressed! One thing you’re certain of: no one will ever make you feel as much like a medieval harlot and an object of worship at the same time like Steve Rogers.

Reluctantly, you draw back from his addictive kisses, pulling his hand from your cheek to briefly kiss his palm. “I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to answer me without trying to smooth anything over, got it?”

Steve’s gaze darkens with an amused sort of interest. “I’ll see where you’re going with this, but you should know that there are two places I like to be in charge: the boardroom and the bedroom.”

His tone is gentle, but with an undercurrent of steel. You’re completely unable to stop the way your breath catches and your thighs clench. Sweet fires of hell, this man is perfect.

“It’s a deal,” you manage to squeak out.

“Go on, then.” Steve lifts a hand to brush his thumb along your hairline, down your cheek to press against your lips, dragging them open. From there, he continues to where the swell of your breast meets the lace of your bra, skirting your nipple by lifting his hand up to clasp with the other hand behind his head. Throughout, his gaze holds yours, intense and commanding.

“Sure, show me up, like I’m going to remember anything more than my own name, at this point,” you whisper-whine.

“I used it a few times on my recent trip.” His soft admission is in direct contrast to his casual, confident body language. You’re starting to realize there’s a stronger dichotomy to Steve than you thought. Will you get to have the kind, thoughtful boyfriend who saves you from an evening of elitist tedium and a fierce, possessive lover?

Will you survive, if so?

“Tell me. I’m getting a little jealous of whatever it is you’re thinking about,” Steve intones.

You stop biting your lip and grin. “I’m filing away these new pieces of information about you. Just… don’t ask me where I’m filing them.”

“Oh, I will.”

His voice is like a caress that cascades over you, pausing at your most sensitive places. You shiver, both for your own acknowledgment of the sexual tension and for him to appreciate his effect on you. After letting out a breath that’s more like a yearning sigh, you set your hands on the top button of his dress shirt. With Steve’s steady gaze on you, though, you’re questioning yourself.

“My plan sounds stupid in my head now, with you oozing all of this confidence.”

Immediately, his hand covers yours, setting off sparks with every swipe of his thumb on your skin. “At work it’s a facade, a persona, even--and not a flattering one. I didn’t think I could shake it off, the night of the gala. It’s more natural when--” He interrupts himself by pulling you in for a deep, passionate kiss.

“You’re not faking it here,” you observe minutes later. The whole concept is knocking you sideways, but-- “Okay, I need to tell you I’m picturing you in one of those tailored suits commanding a room of powerful people and that is just sexy as hell.”

He rocks his hips up into you. “I’ll let them know--but, roll back a minute. What was your plan? Better yet,” Steve interrupts himself, setting a heavy hand on your hip to hold you still as he grinds up against you again. “Show me.”

His confidence is literally rubbing off on you. “All right, but fair warning: it’s very ‘over-eager receptionist peeks at you between decorative plants.’” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, his warm hand travels from your hip around and down, fingertips pushing aside your waistbands to firmly grip your ass.

“I know exactly who I’m here with.”

There’s enough of the altruistic, spend-a-week-building-with-the-bros tone in his voice to be reassuring, and you nod.

“Right, then.” Briskly, with the heat of arousal singing through you from every point of contact, you unbutton the top button of his dress shirt. “You’re kind.” Button two: “You’re moral and fair.” Your eyes are focused on your ‘work,’ but you can see Steve break into a smile. At button three, you’re almost halfway down. “You’re a hard worker.”

Steve lets out a deep ‘Mmmm’ sound. Thanks to his ass-grab leverage, he blatantly moves your hips in time with his for a cycle of thrusts that leave you breathless. You can’t look at him, so you clear your throat like a prudish schoolmarm and meticulously unbutton #4.

“You’re good at your… job.” It takes a little while to free this button, so you end up worrying your lower lip with your teeth as you try. Once you’re finished, with anticipation lifting every single hair follicle on your body, only then do you make eye contact.

He mutters ‘fuck’ and reaches between the two of you to unbuckle his belt, popping his trouser snap with an expression that challenges you to object.

There are two shirt buttons left.

You’re completely out of your depth, as desperate to come as you may have ever been in your entire existence, and you have zero idea what else to say--but you reach for button number five.

You wet your lips. Slowly.

Steve grips the couch with his free hand-- but the one he’s holding onto you with is still firm and not at all bruising (not that you’d mind. You’ll paint yourself with this man’s passion if he lets you). 

“You’re passionate.”

He makes a cut-off sort of growl in the back of his throat when you move to the last button. You can see the heavy bulge of his cock in his boxer briefs just an inch away from your palms. In a perfect world, you’d say ‘fuck it’ to coming up with another word. In a perfect world, you’d reward both of you by giving up and sliding to your knees, demonstrating exactly how much you appreciate this tall, sexy, beast of an honorable man--and then you have an idea.

Your borrowed pants have a simple clasp, and you move your hands slowly from Steve’s last remaining shirt button to release it, incidentally dragging across his straining cock as you do so. The blatant teasing gets ‘worse’ when you draw down your zipper, nudging, rubbing, and pressing until it’s fully unzipped.

Throughout, Steve’s hand on your ass remains steady, but his breathing grows more and more ragged.

Finally, you lift your hands up and away, denying him any more contact before dropping down to reach for the last button.

“You--” he rumbles, but you interrupt him with two words.

“You’re patient.”

With a practically incomprehensible oath that thoroughly refutes your last impudent compliment, Steve shoves down your loosened clothing and angles the two of you to the side on the couch, all in a single action. Then he sinks two fingers inside you roughly, both of you groaning at the desperate, glorious pleasure of it.

You cram a fist in your mouth, but he stops in the middle of his one-handed shucking of his pants and boxers to yank your fist free.

“All through that shitty conference I imagined the noises you’d make tonight,” Steve grits out, looking down at you with naked desire in his eyes. He twists his fingers mid thrust, and you can’t help but cry out, your hips chasing every movement his talented, devastating fingers perform on you.

You’re already so close. The white-hot, catastrophic release starts to cloud your vision, stayed only by your delayed understanding of what he just said.

“Wait, you’re saying during the--”

Steve kicks the last inches of his lower clothing free and swaps hands deftly, spreading your arousal on his cock with an ‘Mmmm’ of pleasure so filthy you flutter around his fingers in pre-orgasmic shock.

“Thinking about you genuinely kept me sane, and I'm going to turn those daydreams into reality,” he rasps, a modern Greek god with the morals of a saint and the body of a satyr, as if you could ever do anything but gratefully worship him.

You mouth something like the word “Yes,” too desperate for anything more coherent.

The pleasure that follows his first deep thrust is ruinous. You forget everything but Steve, the taste of praise on his lips, the delight his touch chases across your skin, and most of all, the power he arches into you, music and mayhem and meaning, all at once. By the time you’re shuddering around each other you’ve ended up on the floor in front of his couch--and you only notice because Steve’s got a hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’m out of adjectives,” you whisper weakly. “All of the good ones. Most of the naughty ones. Fuck, other languages, too. Even extinct ones. You’re fluent in everything.”

Steve pulls you to his chest and does something athletic that ends with you on the couch beside him, his soft homemade afghan covering the most pertinent parts of your nakedness.

“You make me want to be fluent in everything,” he murmurs. “And, thank you.” Steve grabs his shirt and holds it in front of his crotch. “I’ll get a washcloth.”

He’s jogging farther into the apartment before you can respond, but something about his protective actions trigger a flurry of realization, something you should be--

Oh.

The fall of snow past the giant picture windows brings reality crashing into you. You just had glorious, intense, messy sex in a room that is visible from other nearby buildings!

Steve reappears with a soft-looking washcloth. He’s wearing pajama pants, with what looks like a matching long-sleeved top slung over his shoulder.

“I forgot about the windows,” you say in a small voice, taking the washcloth and using it under the afghan.

“Oh, right,” he says in a completely un-worried voice. Steve looks over at you, sees the half-scared expression on your face, and his demeanor sort of… softens. It’s both obvious and hard to quantify, and it hits you that he’s almost certainly done that before, even if you hadn’t noticed. You imagine there’s a lot of things his clothes and a carefully-crafted facial expression would cover for. He sits down beside you on the couch and offers you the shirt as he says, “The couch is recessed enough into the room that it’s not very visible, I think, but I wasn’t thinking, and I should have asked you about that. I’m sorry.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, and you ask him about that while pulling on his proffered pajama top, juggling the blanket in the process.

“Would it be strange to say I get very… goals-oriented?” he asks, rueful and amused in equal measure.

“How much different a ‘persona’ are we talking, here?”

The question is meant playfully, but Steve takes long enough to answer that you can feel the warmth of the washcloth start to fade in your hand.

“Too different for comfort, I’m coming to realize.” 

He reaches for the washcloth, but you pull it close and get up, gesturing for him to lead you to wherever you can rinse it out. On the way, you can’t help but eye the windows in a new way, perhaps as unintentional adversaries.

“I haven’t let myself be truly seen in a long time,” Steve says as you drape the rinsed washcloth on a drying rack in the dimly-lit kitchen area. “The reason is--well, it might be insulting, but it’s honest.”

You resist the urge to hug your arms around yourself. He’s given you a shirt to wear that matches his, and you were serious with those compliments earlier, despite the pleasure-wrought desperation you felt as you spoke them. “Go on?”

“You’re yourself with me. Not fawning. There’s no facade, no attempt to pretend you have more money or influence. That’s rare. Precious even.”

His statement stings, despite everything that’s happened tonight, despite the way his compliment hews off the rough edges. There’s no derision or judgment in his tone, so you smile at him, albeit stiffly. 

“I don’t really have a way to hide those things. I’m me. I figured if you were bothered by--” you wince, feeling a sense of inferiority rise up inside you (dropped out of college, pulled out of your internship, entry-level job, depleted nest-egg, caregiver for your sister, baggage, baggage, baggage) before you wrestle it all back down. “--any of that, you’d move on, and I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

“I don’t want to move on,” Steve says firmly, brushing his hand over your hair as if to adjust the disarray that came from putting on his shirt. “I want to move forward, even if that means you can see through some of the windows I usually cover with curtains. Will you be exclusive with me?”

“I’d really like that,” you whisper, overcome. “And not just because you fuck like a complete god.”

The words slip out before you can fucking stop them, and you gasp, the tidal wave of your social inferiority to a man like Steve coming blasting through all the tentative bridges you’ve just built. You hear buzzing in your ears, your vision is misted over with regret--but seconds later, you realize he’s laughing.

“Okay I swear on every single deity that exists, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud! I’m so sorry,” you groan, your relief over his amusement barely tempering the metallic tang of adrenaline on your tongue.

Your… your boyfriend Steve Rogers takes your hand in his and lifts it up, bowing over it before kissing it with more chivalry than a whole season of Game of Thrones. Even one of the early ones.

“Sweetheart, you’re forgiven.”

<- Previous story...

[zeebee3]

Mother!! Your last fic slapped so hard? Omg. You're genius.

I wanted to ask you for some recommendations.👀 I love everything you've ever written, so I'm sure I'll love what you've enjoyed reading too.

If/when you have time, of course.💙

Ahhhhh okay this is going to be a long list, I can already tell 😂 I've tried to limit myself but there are SO MANY fics out there that I eat up again and again, and there will never be a comprehensive list of stuff I've enjoyed because so far, it's truly endless.

That said, here are the first handful that jumped to mind which I've read at least twice (that's got to be a metric of something, right?). I'm going to do the absolute barest summary for them because really, the author's summary and tags do more good than I ever will.

It also goes without saying that every fic by any of these writers is a 10/10 slam dunk, so make a cup of tea and scroll their work lists for more gems. I hope you enjoy!

Note: all of them are rated E

In no particular order...

Dramione

While They Were Sleeping by Dizzle00. The sexual tension in this one!!!!!! pls. I die, even on rereads. Mind the tags as it's an infidelity fic (dating not married).

Full Tilt by Khakis. BDD and a Hermione who is determined to take it. You're welcome in advance.

I Won't Kiss a Death Eater by Orolin. Wartime, forbidden love, clandestine meetings, THE SPICE, the moody vibes!! The podfic of this (linked at the bottom) is also insanely good.

A Healer's Guide to Mating with a Werewolf by sad_millennial. The build up and storytelling is so wonderful, it's truly mind boggling that this clocks in under 8k words for how rich and full of life it is!

The Horny Virgin Chronicles by SilverDragonGemini. 8th year, Hermione asks Draco to help her learn what she likes in bed. Every chapter is amazing, I read it in a single sitting and will be rereading for sure!

Serpents & Skulls by Wanderingfair. Muggle uni AU, secret society, mystery and romance! The moody, dark academia vibes are exceptional.

horny devil by SultryNuns. Draco grows horns, and they are sensitive. I know, I know--say less.

Mount by molivier. Brazilian Ju Jitsu as foreplay. AGAIN, say less.

I was just thinking about it, I'm not gonna do it by malfoyesque. Draco pulls out every time...until now. This is the Draco POV of our dreams.

The Wandmaker by Charingfae. Draco makes magical sex toys; Hermione buys one 🙃

A Marriage of Inconvenience by Beforetherealbook. The title says it all--add in virgin!Draco, pining!Draco, and baby we're cookin'

The Summer After by youhavemyswordandbow. Set in the summer before 8th year, Draco is sent to live with the Grangers. I have a crush on this whole story.

Triads

The Cock Tongue Incident by neilistic. (Hermione/Draco/Astoria). Hermione is summoned to Draco and Astoria's home to help with something. I'm full-on on my knees for this Astoria, and the premise is so unique and so so well done!

Tarnished by westxnorthwest. (Draco/Theo/Hermione). 8th year, the start of a triad, no prior Dreo (which is very very fun to see bloom).

Drarry

Only for October by DodgerKedavra. Every chapter is written based on the 2023 HP Cocktober prompt. Every chapter is also FANTASTIC 🫠

Former Things Come to Mind by DodgerKedavra. Okay I'm cheating on my self-imposed "one fic per author" rule but I simply can't not suggest everyone read this one. The prose. THE CHARACTERIZATIONS. I tear up every reread.

That Old Black Magic by bixgirl1. God-tier marriage law fic. This is the one that got me into that trope to begin with. PHEW.

Lumos by birdsofshore. Another classic Drarry but hey, if you haven't read it, let this be your cue!

OKAY that's it for now, but I am curating a list of my favorite other/rare pair fics as well so once I get that together, I'll do a follow up post.

Annddddd now I want to go reread half of these AGAIN 😅

[byfulcrums]

Fuck it. Invincible Tumblr

💥 explosionsbaby Follow

Wake up to see the aliens attacking again. God fucking damn it.

❤️ justamonstergirl Follow

Imagine how the aliens feel after seeing you

💥 explosionsbaby Follow

Get better insults. You won't be insulting anyone that way

❤️ justamonstergirl Follow

Nahhh. Don't need to. You already humiliate yourself every time you open your mouth

💥 explosionsbaby Follow

Your entire existence is an insult

☪️ superherofan Follow

i forget that superheroes have social media and regularly use it.... invincible has Tumblr holy shit

🌟 notsovinciblenow Follow

Boo.

☪️ superherofan Follow

OMG??

#HI MR INVINCIBLE SIR #I SWEAR ALL MY A/B/O FICS WERE WRITTEN OUT OF LOVE

🌙 artemislover Follow

Can't believe I have to say this, but can you guys please stop making Omni-Man x Immortal theories?!?!

Ik you think the idea of them having been romantically involved is funny, but c'mon, people

It is true that there should be more openly queer superheroes, but the fact that there are people who genuinely believe they fucked is wild...

Besides, we have to stop following the lives of superheroes that closely. They deserve to get some privacy too! They're still people

Also, didn't Omni-Man once mention his wife?? And son?? Shipping him w a man when he's clearly straight and in an established relationship is stupid

🌟 notsovinciblenow Follow

These are all great points but they've definitely fucked

🌙 artemislover Follow

INVINCIBLE?????

🌟 notsovinciblenow Follow

Godddddd. My parents just do not know what privacy is, PLEASE STOP HAVING SEX WHEN I MIGHT BE HOME... please you're killing me

🌟 notsovinciblenow Follow

Wait, shit, wrong blog...

🌭 hotdog Follow

shocking revelation: invincible has parents

🌟 notsovinciblenow Follow

??? Of course I have parents. Where'd you think I came from?

🌭 hotdog Follow

Honestly i thought you were from mars

🌟 notsovinciblenow Follow

from MARS????

#i'm not martian??? i don't even look martian #do i look martian?

💃 thedancingquinn Follow

ATOM EVE LIKES MY FAVORITE BAND????

🚫 ohgodpleaseno Follow

really? How do you know?

💃 thedancingquinn Follow

Okay quick storytime

My friends and I wanted to go to see this band live for a LONG time, so we saved up money for years until we could finally afford it, right?

Well, the day we finally get to see them live, I look up and I see Atom Eve, just. Flying there. Above the crowd

She was singing, apparently very loudly and she looked like she was having sm fun. She saw me and waved!!! Atom Eve!!!! Waved at me!!!!!!!

🧬 atomevesss☑️☑️ Follow

:)

💃 thedancingquinn Follow

WAIT R YOU THE ACTUAL ATOM EVE

🧬 atomevesss☑️☑️ Follow

Yeah. Check my Insta, there's a link to this blog!

💃 thedancingquinn Follow

AFKFHFHFHFJDJDJDJDDJDHFHSUEUEJEJ

#ATOM EVE TALKED TO ME!!!!!!

🤖 officialrobot Follow

Today, Monster Girl told me to download this app and create a blog — I did not think it was necessary, but she insisted.

I decided to listen to her. She was very persuasive.

I will be sharing things about my day, as she has told me to do. Expect to hear from me after this.

👀 eyaseyaseays Follow

you really think we're gonna believe you're the real Robot?? C'mon.

‼️ notafurryyet Follow

Dude, RP exists. Let people live their lives in peace

❤️ justamonstergirl Follow

This is so funny

‼️ notafurryyet Follow

That's... The real monster girl. Replying to a fake Robot post...

Dude I think he's real

🎉 partyshitter Follow

The new Guardians are a fucking shit show. Are we seriously meant to believe they're going to protect us? Really??

💥 explosionsbaby Follow

Oh Id like to see YOU almost get killed every single fucking day without one fucking break only for asholes like you to shit on us like that. We almost die every single day!!! Were the ones geting our hands dirty not you

🤖 officialrobot Follow

I'd* assholes* We're*

💥 explosionsbaby Follow

Your supposed to be with me in this one

🤖 officialrobot Follow

You're*

☪️ somanykates Follow

The Immortal kinda... 👀

💥 explosionsbaby Follow

WHAT

💥 explosionsbaby Follow

I cant believe she cheated on me... what a bitch

🧬 atomevesss Follow

😐

☪️ somanykates Follow

We're going to have a fucking talk, Rex.

💥 explosionsbaby Follow

Shit

🍐 shrinkshrek Follow

You had this one coming buddy

🌟 notsovinciblenow Follow

The fact that Miles Morales canonically reads JJK, though...

��� shootmeplease Follow

INVINCIBLE LIKES MARVEL?? AND JJK???

🌟 notsovinciblenow Follow

Why is everyone always surprised when I like something? I don't get it

🌟 notsovinciblenow Follow

:(

🧬 atomevesss☑️☑️ Follow

I cannot have just found out you're still alive through Tumblr...

🧬 atomevesss☑️☑️ Follow

Seriously though. Are you okay now? I know you're not mentally, after the whole Chicago thing w your dad, but at least physically?

🌟 notsovinciblenow Follow

I'll survive, I guess

💔 thisishowtobeah Follow

INVINCIBLE?? It is such a relief to see you're still here after the whole Chicago ordeal Mr Invincible

📸 definitelyinsanebaby Follow

Yeah maybe don't remind him of that rn??

💔 thisishowtobeah Follow

OH SHIT I'M SO SORRY

#I AM SO SO SO SORRY #omg i hope you're doing good mr invincible :(((

[teamchasezwrites]

Second Chance (1/3)

Word Count: 3,724

Characters: Damian Priest/Unnamed OC

Genre: Romance

Tags: Anxiety, Waffling, Creative Licensing on Real Events, Stars Align, Kissing

Summary: Some people are worth a second chance. (A Wrestlemania XL Night Two fic)

Author’s Note: This was initially supposed to be a simple one shot. Then it morphed into a second part in Damian’s POV. Then finally a 3rd part. An error on my part with writing Damian not involved in night 1, but I had already written part 1 and most of part 2 before I realized and liked it too much to change. I did watch Damian’s doc but any errors in his road to WWE timeline are on me and creative licensing. This is written with an unnamed female lead as I tried to make it x reader, but I’m not very good at writing in the first person.

Part II Part III

The atmosphere was electric. Lincoln Financial Field held over sixty seven thousand screaming Eagle fans weekly during the fall. Usually she was one of those Eagle fans screaming herself horse from way up in section 243 at the coach to run the damn ball. She was still smarting over their epic collapse five months later when she thought they were Super Bowl bound finally ready to take the Chiefs down but alas…

She shut down that anger like she had earlier when she felt the need to raise her finger at the stadium as she was walking in. Of course across the parking lot, Citizen’s Bank Park loomed where the Phillies went down with a whimper in the playoffs. In order to save her sanity, she didn’t even look toward the Wells Fargo Center. She did however stop to take a photo with the Nick Foles statue.

Thank God for St Nick.

Or Big Dick Nick.

Tonight wasn’t about sports teams and their ability to continuously raise your hopes only to dash them in the end.

No.

Tonight was about a different hope. Though her heart still had the ability to be broken into pieces like in playoff ball.

With sports, there was always next year.

With love you tried to catch that flame and ride the magic. Hopefully forever. When the magic ended with love, hearts moved on to someone else.

With sports teams you went down with them to the bitter end.

“Jesus Christ I hope it’s warmer tonight.”

She looked to the seat next to her where her sister stood in front of the steel folding chair with the Wrestlemania XL logo. She held her phone in the air, taking a video of the crowd, the music, and the atmosphere.

“If it’s like it was last night, I’m leaving.”

“The fuck you will!” Her sister snapped at her as her fingers tapped over the phone screen. No doubt posting the video to her Instagram. “Do you know how much Bill spent on these tickets?”

Bill, her sister’s second husband. Bill, who was nearly twenty years older than her sister. Bill, who worked in the financial district in New York City and made it his mission to spoil her sister. She was sure her sister loved him in a safe, older man kind of way. He provided for her, gave her security. Random trips to Italy. After her disaster of a marriage to her first husband, she deserved it.

“I nearly lost a toe last night!”

The stadium wasn’t covered like most NFL teams seem to be learning toward when trying to get their cities to foot the bill for a new one. The Linc was open aired as they came. It provided views of beautiful sunsets and planes coming into land at the airport just down 95. Depending on the side you sat on and the time, the sun roasted you alive. It also rained on you if you weren’t lucky enough to have a seat under a cover. It also provided no shelter from the cool temperatures April always brought to the Northeast. Where winter liked to hang on as long as possible before it released its grips to spring and the blistering summer.

“I think I saw some Cody Rhodes socks at the merch tent.”

She side eyed her sister not finding the comment funny. She made sure to bring a pair of gloves and a toboggan. She almost brought a throw as well, but decided not to. If the second night was anything like the previous night, she would be spending more time on her feet than huddled in her chair.

“Probably just as well,” her sister grinned. “You shouldn’t be wearing someone else’s merchandise.”

She was saved at having to reply when the opening festivities started. As the National Anthem was performed, she barely heard the words, mouthing in reflex with her hand over her heart. The crowd cheered at the conclusion as music hit the speakers. Inside the ring, a pretty black woman smiled over the crowd as she announced the special guest, Stephanie McMahon.

Nerves built in her stomach and continued to roll and twist into knots as the first wrestler, Drew McIntyre made his entrance with bagpipe players lining the stage. Their sound echoed through the stadium. It wasn’t until the stage filled with members of the Philadelphia String Association members and their instruments and outlandish outfits did she lean over to her sister.

“I think this was a bad idea.”

She was nearly drowned out by the music on stage and the crowd singing rolling “ohs”. She learned last night it was just what they did with the next wrestler.

“What?” Her sister’s head snapped toward her as she looked away from the stage.

“I said,” she paused as the crowd roared with cheers. Looking up at the big video screen above the ring, she saw Seth Rollins made his appearance. Dressed outlandishly in an outfit that fit right in with the Mummers surrounding him. “This was a bad idea.”

“I heard that. I was just giving you time to change it.” Her sister pursed her lips in annoyance. Or disappointment. She wasn’t sure which. Being ten years younger, she was used to receiving those looks throughout her life from her sister.

“Be real.” She sighed.

“I am.” Her sister turned away from the ramp Seth was currently making his way down. “You were excited when I told you I got tickets.”

“I was. I am…” She insisted.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Look around Sis,” she waved her hand around her acknowledging the thousands of people packed inside the stadium, the cheers, the lights. “You think with all this, he’ll notice me? Let alone recognize me? It’s been so long…”

Ten years.

Ten years since the man she thought she’d marry, create a family with, would love forever, up and left her.

‘This isn’t working anymore.’

The words crumbled her heart and stole her breath. She’d been imagining her future with him and he was leaving her behind.

“You never know.” Her sister shrugged. “You caught his eye before. Who’s to say you won’t catch it again? Besides, I’m tired of listening to you wallow after another failed date with yet another guy who failed to measure up to Luis.”

Well…

She turned away from her sister to stare at the ring where Seth and Drew were currently locked together in their match for the championship belt Seth currently held. From the rumors she read online from various social media sites, Luis – Damian Priest – was going to cash in his Money in the Bank briefcase that assured him a title match.

“It has to work.”

She turned her attention back to her sister. “Why’s that?”

“These tickets were cheaper than getting that tattoo removed.”

Ignoring her smirk, she looked down at her left hand. There, on the inside of her ring finger over the second knuckle toward the third, stood Luis’s name written in a delicate script font. The tail of the s making a small heart.

“Can’t imagine any man wanting to slide a ring over another man’s name,” her sister said dryly.

The tattoo had been part of a drunken night nearly three years after their break up. Her roommate at the time was an aspiring tattoo artist. She wasn’t sure what led to the tattoo – the night remained a black hole in her memory. She woke up the next morning on the living room floor with the kind of hangover she hadn’t experienced since her first year of college. The pain in her head matched that on the pain on her hand where a fresh tattoo sat on redden skin.

Concealer became her friend. She carried it around like chapstick. One in her purse. Another in her car. The desk at her old job. A tube in the drawer of her bedside table. Even one laying on the coffee table in her apartment. All to hide the name of the man she never got over. Even now, the ink was hidden beneath a layer of classic concealer.

Her mind wandered during the match thinking about Luis and how long it’s been since they shared the same space. How different he looked in his appearance now compared to then. The cut of his hair. The trimmed facial hair covering his cheeks. The numerous tattoos covering his arms, chest, and back. His muscles more defined and cut. The added muscle weight making him appear bigger than before.

The ringing of the bell drew her attention back to the match. Drew McIntyre was standing victorious in the ring with the gold championship belt hoisted high in the air with one hand. The crowd roared in celebration. She could see a dejected and limping Seth Rollins making his way back up the ramp sans the belt he wore to the ring not that long ago.

She couldn’t help but feel letdown, a sagging feeling of sorrow eclipsing her body while thousands cheered in happiness around her.

This was supposed to be when Damian cashed that briefcase in. But he never appeared. Did all the articles and tweets she read get it wrong? How could Damian make an appearance now? The match was over. Drew won. In a second or two, Drew would leave the ring and make his own way back up the ramp. The show would continue. The window to see Damian gone.

Her thumb unconsciously rubbed over the inside of her finger, right over Luis’s hidden name.

Disappointment set in. She knew it was a chance nothing would happen. Even if Damian came out, there was no guarantee he would see her anyway. Though she would be terrified standing in the ring with thousands of people staring at her, she imagined for him the people all blurred together. Seeing them but without seeing them.

“Oh Damian is definitely cashing in!”

She tuned an ear to the conversation behind her. It took everything she had to not turn around and pepper the person with questions. How did he know!

“Oh yeah!” Came a laughing response. “He’s spending way too much time fucking with Punk.”

The video screen above the ring showed Drew now standing on the announce table. She couldn’t make out the words, but she bet it was trash talking a guy sitting in the office chair wearing a headset. She didn’t know who he was. Her deep dive into the briefcase and Damian didn’t include other wrestlers and whatever beef they may have with each other.

The Scottish music cut off as Drew was knocked off his feet. The crowd went wild as they stared chanting “CM Punk” as the wrestler continued his beatdown of the new champion.

The lights on the housing area, lining the ramp, and at the top of the ramp switched from green to purple at the same time music blared. The crowd lost their minds and she swore she felt the ground moving.

“I told you!” Her sister grabbed her arm, her fingers squeezing tightly.

A blur of purple and black ran down the ramp in the midst of cheers. She found it hard to see with everyone standing, dancing around, and their arms in the air. She looked up at the screen and her heart stopped.

Damian.

She watched the whole sequence without breathing. Jamming the briefcase into Drew’s head. Handing off the briefcase to the referee. Picking up a beat down Drew from the ringside floor and tossing him into the ring. Him climbing into the ring and the ref ringing the bell.

It felt like it lasted hours.

Damian lifted Drew high above him with one arm and slammed him to the mat before falling over him in a pin.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bell rang and crowd’s roar strengthened once again.

“And here is your winner! And NEEEEEEW world heavyweight champion… Daamienn Preeeist!”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched Damian on the TV high above the ring. Holding the title in one hand with both hands above his head in victory. He then flexed his arms down and let out a roar, the sound buried by the fans cheering.

“I told you!” Her sister shouted again, her hand still gripped her arm and she shook her with excitement. “Get over here!”

She was practically thrown into the fencing that created a barrier between the seats and the ramp. It moved slightly but she was able to regain her footing. Fans around her all stormed to the fence as Damian rolled from the ring. They screamed and shouted his name.

He appeared at the bottom of the ramp and she got her first unobscured view of him. He looked larger than life. The black leather gear he wore molded to his body like a layer of skin. His hair – much fuller than photos she’d seen of him – hung all over his shoulders in thick braided dreads, complete with purple and red scattered throughout.

Her heart thumped wildly but she was frozen. This was different. This was Damian. Not Luis. She didn’t know Damian. How could she expect him to react at seeing her? It’s been ten years… she looked different just like he did. He was a whole new person! He broke up with her for a reason.

This isn’t working out…

“What the fuck…”

She heard her sister mumble, but she was struck mute, she could only watch as he stalked up the ramp. The confidence she never knew he had exuding off him in waves.

“Damian I love you!”

Her eyes widened at the scream next to her. Her face grew warm against the coldness in the air. She could only watch as Damian’s eyes drifted from the top of the ramp toward the side… in her direction.

She could tell he was about to smile or wink in the direction of the proclamation. He’d probably done it hundreds of times. When their eyes met, his face morphed into shock. Recognition dawned in his eyes. She watched as his steps faltered.

“Smile you fucking idiot,” her sister elbowed her sharply.

She smiled.

At least she hoped.

It didn’t appear she had any control over any of her muscles at the moment. Screams grew louder around her and bodies jostled one another. She blinked and Damian was right there in front of her. His chest heaved with heavy breaths from the exertion and complete pandemonium. A slick sheen covered his bare arms. Taller than she remembered. Though his dark eyes – popping from the thin line of eyeliner outlining them – were the same. They stared directly into her eyes and deep into her soul. The crowd noise faded – muted in the background. The people around them blurred. It was just him.

“Luis…” she whispered and she wasn’t sure he heard until his eyes flared.

Then she was in his arms wrapped up tight. The corner of the belt dug into her shoulder where he still clutched it in his hands. The other end brushed against the back of her thigh. She loved being in his arms. His hold so tight offering a sense of security and protection. A feeling of home washed over her. Warmth radiated from him and she pressed her hands against the satiny spandex of the top of his ring gear. With a shuddering sigh, she relaxed into him.

“Fuck…” his deep voice reverberated through her body. She felt him tuck his head down, hiding his face from view. “I gotta go…” the words caused her arms to tighten as if she could keep him there forever. “Please stay. I’ll…fuck…just don’t go.”

She nodded her head and felt the squeeze of his arms one more time before he slowly pulled away. Her eyes met his, swirling with emotions. The dull roar of the crowd around them threatened their bubble.

In a quick movement, his hands cupped her face. His fingers were still curled around the black leather of the belt strap. The back of his fingers pressed into her check. His head lowered and he kissed her firmly and quickly. His lips disappeared in a flash and with a soft caress of his thumb over her cheek, he was gone leaving her breathless.

She watched as he stalked up the stage, the belt in hand to a group of people at the top. She recognized them from photos as part of the group Damian was in. He met them with his arms stretched wide. Two members dressed in black hugged him from either side, while another in bright white shoes jumped up from the front. Finally, a woman joined the foray. They bounced up and down as they all hugged. A moment later they turned to face the crowd, Damian standing tall in the middle. He raised his championship belt up high above him in both hands while the others raised their hands in victory. The crowd roared in celebration.

Then they were gone.

“So…”

She turned her attention from the empty ramp to her sister. Her sister had her arms crossed with a smirk on her face. One eyebrow arched and her head tilted as if to say ‘told you so’.

Her checks flushed with embarrassment as she took in the faces of the people around her. She ducked her head and moved back to her seat stuffing her hands in her coat pocket to hide the shaking. This time it wasn’t from the cold. She wasn’t feeling the low temperatures anymore. A warmness wrapped around her from the moment her eyes met Luis’s. She licked her lips, drawing his taste.

“Here,” a wipe came into view. She looked up to see her sister holding out a white towelette with one hand while the other was pressing the flap down to close the travel package of make-up remover wipes.

“What’s this for?” She stared at it questioningly.

“You’re obviously not gonna be needing that concealer anymore.” Her sister smirked and pressed the towelette in her hand.

She clutched the damp wipe in her hand. Her skin still tingled where he touched. She could still taste him on her lips from even the quick kiss they shared. She tucked the wipe into her coat pocket not making the move to reveal the finger tattoo.

“Chicken,” her sister murmured as the crowd jumped to their feet as the music for the next match started. “What did he say?”

She looked around, but the attention had diverted back to the ring. She still leaned closer to her sister just in case. “He told me to stay. Not to go.”

“Like stay here?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess?”

As the night grew longer, nerves settled in her belly. The voice in her head grew louder.

‘He’s not coming.’

‘He was just being nice.’

‘You caught him off guard.’

‘He doesn’t want you anymore.’

It took everything she had to keep herself planted in her seat. Not to beg her sister to leave. To go back to the hotel and remember how his lips felt against hers. The memory of his arms around her.

“Miss?”

She almost missed the call, zoned out watching Logan Paul, who she recognized from YouTube, wrestle in the ring. Next time she couldn’t sleep, she would Google how a YouTube star not only ended up in a wrestling match, but was a champion.

Her sister nudge her breaking the zone she was in. Catching her eye, she followed the nod toward the barricade where a man stood motioning for her. Dumbfounded she pointed to herself. At the man’s emphatic nod, she stood and slid past her sister to the barricade.

“Yes?”

“You with Damian?”

“Well…I….” She stuttered until a kick to her foot caused her to blurt, “yes!”

“Here.”

The man handed her a folded up piece of paper ripped from a note pad. Before she could question, he was gone. Sneaking along the barricades ducking out of view.

“What is it?”

“A piece of paper.” She answered sitting back in her chair. The paper pressed tightly in her fingers.

“No shit,” her sister rolled her eyes. “What the fuck does it say?”

“I…I don’t know.” She stared at the white paper. Void of anything on the outside. Schrödinger’s cat stared her in the face. The words on the inside of the paper could be everything or nothing at all.

“Want me to read it?” Her sister offered.

“No. Just…” She pulled her closer to her as she turned her body toward her sister. Their knees touched and their bodies hunched to create a makeshift wall to block prying eyes.

She took a breath and slid her finger in between the flap and pressed it open. Slanted chicken scratch she knew so well greeted her.

I can’t get away. Meet me at Embassy Suites tonight??

The note ended with his phone number and was signed with just an L.

“The cost of these tickets were worth it after all.” Her sister elbowed her in a teasing manner.

“You don’t know that.” She read the note again, memorizing the number; different than she remembered. “He might just want to catch up.”

Her sister sent her a look. “Right. The kiss he planted on you was just to catch up.”

She blushed as a smile toyed with her lips. She folded the paper back along the crease and stuffed it in her coat pocket keeping it in her grasp.

“Are you gonna go?”

“How? We’re heading in the opposite direction.”

“I can drop you off.”

“Then I’ll be stuck there.”

“Would that be so bad?” Her sister wiggled her eyebrows.

No. Being stuck with Luis at a hotel wouldn’t be bad. Not at all.

“Who cares about logistics,” her sister continued. “I will drop you off after we leave here or you can take me back to your place and come back down. It doesn’t matter. Text him right now and tell him you’ll be there.”

She mulled over her sister’s words. She was right of course, not that she’d share that tidbit of information with her. Being able to be in the same space as Luis again? She couldn’t turn it down.

As the music hit for the final match of the night, she pulled out her phone.

‘I’ll be there.’

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