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tainsan · 1 year ago

Text

opposites attract.

↳synopsis: you are on the verge of being expelled, so your teacher helps you find a tutor, yet what you weren't expecting was much more than just tutoring sessions.

↳ word count: 14.3k

↳ a/n: i know this isnt misfits or misfits related but i wanted to give you guys something whilst you wait for the next chapter. i havent been active due to a majot burnout, but im getting into the swing of it again. I hope you enjoy this one shot whilst you wait for the next chapter <3

↳ warnings: fem bodied reader, mentions of alcohol, explicit smut, fingering, oral (f rec), unprotected sex (wrap it pls), gn pronouns but Yunho calls reader a good girl.

MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT AHEAD

"Expelled, what do you mean?" you exclaim, the words of your professor hitting you like a sudden, unwelcome storm.

Your professor leans forward, her expression grave. "If you don’t make a change," she replies, her tone weighted with concern. "Your recent academic performance has been far from ideal, and it's no secret that you'd rather be out partying and socialising than studying. I've tried to advocate for you for the past few months, but even the student council is beginning to lose faith. You need to make a change, or else they will remove you from this program."

The news leaves you feeling torn. You have always been drawn to the vibrant social scene on campus, and it was no secret that you enjoy a good party. Balancing your studies with your social life has been a constant struggle, and it has finally caught up with you in the form of this dire warning.

Taking a deep breath, you try to gather your thoughts, your mind a whirlwind of confusion. "I don't know what to do, though," you admit, your voice tinged with both desperation and uncertainty.

Professor Turner fixes her gaze on you, her expression stern yet caring. Her half-moon glasses perch on the edge of her nose lends an air of wisdom to her appearance. She had always been one of the few teachers who genuinely believed in your potential, even if you hadn't quite lived up to it yet.

She leans forward slightly, her eyes locked on yours. "You can start by addressing that persistent partying issue," she says, her tone deadpan but not without a hint of exasperation. "I've always seen your talent, but it's time for you to believe in it too. My patience for you is wearing thin, and the threat of expulsion is very real. You need to get your studies together, and fast."

Her words strike a chord, and bow your head down, tears starting to form in your eyes. The urgency of the situation finally sinks in, and you know it is time to make a change.

Professor Turner's expression softens, and she leans back in her chair, understanding the turmoil in your eyes. "I know it can be challenging to balance both, but it's essential. Perhaps you can establish a more structured study schedule and limit your social activities during the week.”

Looking up at her, you notice the warmth and unwavering belief in her eyes, which provides a glimmer of hope amidst your uncertainty.

She continues, "In fact, I found a tutor for you. Someone had to cancel on him at the last minute, and he's willing to take you on until your grades improve. He’s an incredibly sweet person, his grades are the best in my class."

Although you would rather avoid any study sessions or anything to do with your university academics, you reluctantly take the paper showcasing the number of the tutor your professor found for you. The paper displays the name "Jeong Yunho" along with his contact number. You have never heard of him before, which was unusual considering you considered yourself as a social butterfly who knew nearly everyone on campus. It occurred to you that there truly was a first time for everything.

As you held the paper, a sense of curiosity overcame your reluctance. You pondered the mystery behind this unknown tutor and wondered what kind of person Jeong Yunho was.

—

Clutching your bag tightly under your arm, you reluctantly made your way towards the library on a Friday evening. With every step, you grumbled to yourself, yearning to be at a lively party instead, drowning your sorrows about the looming threat of expulsion. The future seemed bleak, and hope was a distant memory. When you left Professor Turner's office earlier, you almost crumpled the paper she had given you, fully intent on disregarding any contact with whoever the hell Yunho is.

The journey to the library is slow, partly because you have never set foot in the place before, and partly due to your resistance against the impending academic endeavour. You had never planned on being a library regular; it wasn't part of your college vision. Yet, the harsh reality of the potential consequences weigh heavily on your mind. Losing your education at this point would not only set you back years but also jeopardise all the hard work you have invested to even make it to this esteemed school in the first place.

With every reluctant step, you can’t help but reflect on the choices that have led you here. It was time to face the music, find this enigmatic Yunho, and see if, against all odds, he held the key to salvaging your academic future.

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors of the university library, you're immediately greeted by the familiar scent of aged books and hushed whispers. The soft lighting casts a warm glow over the rows of shelves filled with knowledge, and you can't help but feel out of place in this quiet atmosphere. You've rarely ventured into this sanctuary of academia, and your lack of familiarity is evident as you scan the cavernous space, unsure of where to start

Stepping further into the library, your frustration and reluctance grow. You have little idea of who you're even looking for. The notion that Yunho might be some stereotypical "nerd-looking" guy briefly crosses your mind, and you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the shallow assumption.

After several minutes of wandering the labyrinthine aisles, you find yourself standing in the centre of the library, defeated and ready to give up on this wild goose chase. You can't even muster the energy to be disappointed; you're too focused on your own internal battle between academic responsibilities and your desire for the social scene.

Just as you turn to head for the exit, your hasty retreat is halted by an unexpected and rather forceful collision. You practically bump into a broad, solid chest that seemingly appears out of nowhere. Startled, you stagger back a step, nearly dropping the papers that you have clenched in your hand.

Looking up, you're met with the sight of a tall man, much taller than you. The first thing you notice is his thick black-framed glasses perched on his nose, giving him a rather studious appearance. However, his eyes sparkle with warmth and curiosity, and his friendly, wide smile catches you off guard.

"I'm sorry," you stammer, feeling flustered by the unexpected encounter.

The man's voice is deep and soothing and light-hearted as he replies, "No need to apologise. Are you looking for someone, or can I help you find a book or something?"

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should reveal your purpose in the library. But the kindness in his eyes and the genuine desire to assist make you decide to share. "Actually, I'm trying to find someone named Yunho. I was told he could help me with my studies."

His smile widens, his eyes scrunching in the process, and he extends a hand in greeting. "Yunho, at your service. It's nice to meet you."

You shake his hand, feeling a mix of surprise and relief. Yunho is not what you had expected, and the moment you assumed he'd be a stereotypical "nerd" is now a distant memory. As you look into his friendly eyes, a sense of hope and optimism begins to replace the frustration and doubt that had plagued you earlier.

"You're Yunho?" you ask, a hint of surprise in your voice, as he begins to lead you towards where it appears he was sitting.

"Yes, is it hard to believe?" Yunho responds, a slight nervousness in his tone. "I can get my ID out if you're sceptical." He quickly reaches into his pocket, his ears turning a shade of red as he rushes to grab his ID.

Hastily, you halt him, not wanting to put him through the trouble of proving his identity. Silently, you smile to yourself, he is sweet.

You and Yunho take a seat at a quiet corner table within the library, and you find yourself fidgeting with unease in your chair. Yunho, observant of your discomfort, wisely refrains from commenting, valuing your need for privacy.

"Alright," Yunho began, adjusting his glasses with a hint of nervousness in his demeanour. He reaches into his bag, carefully pulling out two well-worn textbooks and a stack of papers, placing them on the table in front of you.

"I wasn't entirely sure which topics you needed help with, so I brought materials for all five modules you're studying this semester."

You examine the books, their covers showing the marks of countless readers who had delved into their pages.

"Are these your books?" you inquire, surprised by the thoughtfulness he has put into his preparation.

Yunho shakes his head, his cheeks flushing slightly as he admits, "No, I borrowed them from the library. Microbiology isn't my field of study."

Your disbelief is evident as you fix your gaze on him. The rosy hue on his cheeks deepens as he fiddles with the sleeves of his oversized sweater and adjusts his glasses nervously. "You don't study microbiology?" you ask, genuinely surprised.

"No," Yunho confesses, his embarrassment now fully on display. "I just study it as a hobby."

You can’t help but be impressed by his dedication and the sheer audacity of teaching a subject purely out of passion.

"That's impressive," you state. You were well aware that to tutor a subject officially, one typically needed to pass a test administered by the school, certifying one's proficiency. The fact that Yunho was willing to help without any formal obligation was both admirable and unexpected.

Curiosity gets the better of you, you inquire, "What else do you tutor?"

Yunho hesitates for a moment, his fingers still absently adjusting his glasses. "Um, history, algebra, and applied sciences," he finally reveals, his modesty and shyness contrasting with his evident knowledge.

As you listened to him speak, you found yourself captivated not only by his academic prowess but also by the way he wore his thick glasses and his endearing shyness. Yunho was turning out to be a surprising and impressive individual, and you couldn't help but feel a growing fascination with the person who had just entered your academic world.

“So how much do you know about Microbiology?” Yunho questions, thinning through some of the papers in front of him.

“Uh, the basics I guess.” you mumble, your knowledge not the best seeing as you have missed many lectures the past few months.

Yunho's gaze meets yours, and you sense him observing your unease as his eyes traverse your form.

With a soft tone, he reassures you, "it’s okay, you can be honest. I'm here to help you, so you have to be honest. Then I can help you in the best way possible.”

For a fleeting moment, his words touch your heart, a warmth spreading within. Yet, you quickly suppress the feeling, reminding yourself that there is no time for such emotions in your busy life.

“I’ve forgotten a lot, to be honest.”

“That’s okay, we will start with the basics today, to refresh your memory.”

Under the soft glow of the study lamps in your cosy corner of the library, Yunho begins to unravel the basics. The excitement in his eyes was unmistakable, his passion for the subject evident with every word he spoke.

"Alright," he begins, tracing his finger along the pages filled with complex diagrams and scientific jargon. "As you likely already know, microbiology is the study of tiny organisms, like bacteria, viruses, and fungi. These microorganisms are everywhere, and they play a crucial role in our lives, from the food we eat to the diseases we encounter."

Yunho's explanation is clear and concise, making sure to break down complex ideas into easily digestible pieces.

He continues, "Uhh, the basics: the three main types of microorganisms. First, there are bacteria. They're single-celled organisms that can be both good and bad. Some bacteria help with digestion in your gut, while others can cause diseases."

You nod along, your memory starting to be refreshed. Yunho's enthusiasm is contagious, and you find yourself getting more and more interested in the subject.

He flips to a page with colourful illustrations of various microorganisms. "Then there are viruses, which are even smaller than bacteria. They're not considered living because they can't reproduce on their own. Instead, they need a host cell to replicate. Viruses are responsible for many illnesses, like the flu or COVID."

You absorb the information, appreciating how Yunho made the complex concept of viruses relatable. "And the third type?" you prompt.

"Ah, fungi," Yunho smiles. "Fungi are more complex microorganisms. They can be beneficial, like the yeast used in baking bread, or harmful, causing infections like athlete's foot. They're known for their unique cell structure and reproduction methods."

Whilst he explains, he encourages you to ask questions, making sure you are following along. The library's serene ambiance, coupled with Yunho's patient teaching, created a comfortable learning atmosphere. He didn't rush, taking his time to make sure you grasped each concept before moving on.

He continued to cover the basics of microbiology, including the significance of studying these microorganisms, their role in medicine, agriculture, and environmental science. Yunho's passion for the subject was evident in the way he animatedly discussed the various branches of microbiology, from medical microbiology to environmental microbiology, each with its unique focus and importance.

In the quiet of the library, during this unexpected first study session, you find yourself lost in thought. This wasn't how you had imagined it would go, and you can’t help but be impressed and thankful for Yunho's extraordinary patience and intelligence.

You had initially expected a conventional tutoring experience, but Yunho has proven to be so much more. His explanations were crystal clear, his passion for the subject contagious, and his willingness to help you with genuine enthusiasm is striking. He isn’t just a smart individual; he is a rare combination of intelligence and empathy.

You marvel at the fact that he wasn't the stereotypical snobby, know-it-all type who might look down on your abilities. Instead, Yunho is an embodiment of understanding and non-judgment. As he continues to make the complex subject of microbiology comprehensible, you can’t help but feel immense gratitude.

The study session with Yunho nears its end and you find yourself in a much different frame of mind than when you had started. Initially apprehensive about having a tutor, you have been pleasantly surprised by the experience. Your worries have somewhat melted away, replaced by a growing sense of confidence and gratitude.

Yunho, having covered a significant portion of the microbiology basics, closes the textbook with a satisfied smile. "I think we've made some good progress today," he says. "But there is still a lot we have to cover before exams next month. I expect to see you every Wednesday and Friday until then." Yunho attempts a stern voice, jokingly pointing his finger at you.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Yes sir.” you salute him, acting back on his funny actions.

Gathering your belongings, you prepare to leave the library, yet Yunho surprises you with a genuine offer.

"If you ever have questions or need further assistance, don't hesitate to reach out. I'm here to help, and I enjoy teaching. We can meet on more days if you need."

You smile at the sincerity in his voice, “that’s okay, Yunho.” you say before turning towards the exit.

Walking out of the library, a lightness seems to settle upon your chest, replacing the initial apprehension with a sense of accomplishment. Glancing at your phone, you note that it is only ten in the evening. This realisation fills you with a newfound sense of freedom and opportunity.

With a contented smile, you contemplate the evening unfolding before you. The memory of the house party, just a short walk down the road, initially seemed distant due to your earlier commitment to the study session with Yunho. Despite knowing that you should be heading home to review your notes, a mischievous thought crept into your mind – what Yunho didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

A sly smirk plays on your lips as you begin to make your way toward the house party. You can’t deny the allure of a night filled with fun and perhaps a little indulgence. Yet, as you take your first steps, a fleeting moment of hesitation overcomes you. You pause, reflecting on the considerable effort Yunho had put into helping you today.

It is a big realisation. Few, if any, have ever invested so much time and effort in your growth and success. Your heart warms for a brief second at the thought, but just as quickly, you push aside those emotions. You have your reasons – a past that still haunted you, and the fear of getting your heart broken once more. You can’t afford to be vulnerable.

Despite your better judgement, you continue your journey to the house party, determined to enjoy the night to the fullest.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Yunho's presence would linger in your thoughts throughout the night.

—

Several weeks have passed since the start of your study sessions with Yunho, and it has been quite the transformative period. Initially, you had been reluctant to engage in any additional study outside of your scheduled sessions with him. But over time, Yunho's presence had become a reassuring constant in your life, offering a sense of peace and support that you couldn't quite admit to yourself.

During the past couple of weeks, you found yourself increasingly immersed in your books and studies, even sometimes choosing academic pursuits over the lively parties that your large, party-loving friend group frequented.

The shift in your priorities had not gone unnoticed by your friends, who seemed disheartened by your withdrawal from their activities. A residue of guilt clings to you every time you opted to hit the books rather than attend a party. Your ‘friends’ have grown vocal about it, casting you as a bore and a waste of time, berating you for supposedly losing your popularity.

Amid this turmoil, your study sessions with Yunho had become a sanctuary, a refuge from the social pressure and expectations. What you didn't fully realise was the profound positive impact these sessions were having on you, not just academically but also in terms of your personal growth.

Just a few days ago, you faced your first exam since you had started your sessions with Yunho and today you are receiving the results. You are well aware that if you do not pass this, it is not a huge deal seeing as it is not a final exam. Yet you do need to prove yourself to the student council by at least getting a D.

The anticipation is palpable in Professor Turner's classroom, the air thick with nervous energy. She stands at the front of the room, clutching a stack of papers that hold the results of the previous week's exam. Your heart races as you sit there, your anxiety mounting with each passing moment.

Whilst Professor Turner begins to distribute the grades, your palms grow clammy, and your heart races even faster.

As Professor Turner finally reaches your desk, she hands you the paper with a warm smile that holds an underlying pride. In the corner of the sheet, a vibrant red 'C' was marked. It isn’t the highest grade in the class, but at this moment, it feels like a monumental achievement.

A sense of accomplishment washes over you like a warm wave, as you realise that all the effort, Yunho's unwavering support, and Professor Turner's belief in you is beginning to pay off.

You cannot wait to let Yunho know about the news.

The campus courtyard was alive with activity as students milled about, enjoying the pleasant weather and the break from their studies. Among the various clusters of friends, you spot Yunho, standing with a small group of his own. His friends seem to be engaged in an animated conversation, their voices and laughter filling the air.

You observe Yunho for a brief moment, his expression appearing neutral as he attentively listens to his friend's conversation. Your gaze then drifts down to the sight of Yunho pulling up the sleeves of his knitted sweater, revealing his unexpectedly well-defined forearms. The contrast between his baggy clothing and his toned physique momentarily catches you off guard.

But as you approach, your excitement is impossible to contain, the momentary thought of how toned Yunho is elsewhere leaves your mind. Your heart races, and you feel a surge of joy within you. The sense of accomplishment overwhelms you, and you can’t wait to share the news with Yunho, regardless of the audience.

Without hesitation, you stride purposefully toward him, determination etched across your face. The moment you reach him, you suddenly feel a little small under the eyes of his friends who seem to have noticed you approaching.

“Yunho,” you say gently, attempting to get his attention.

Yunho turns around, surprised to see you talking to him outside of your study sessions.

“Hey, what’s up?” Yunho questions, his attention fully on you as he forgets his friends existence.

“I passed the exam,” you beam, “well barely it was only a C.”

Yunho’s eyes widen as his face breaks into a bright, genuine smile. His eyes, behind his thick glasses, now sparkle with delight.

"That's amazing! I knew you could do it!" he exclaims, his enthusiasm matching yours.

His friends can’t resist exchanging glances among themselves, finding it rather peculiar to witness your conversation with Yunho. After all, you are a highly popular figure in their school, while Yunho remains a reserved and relatively unknown individual.

The smile of pride that graces Yunho's face stirs a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, a sensation that has become increasingly common in recent times. Yet, you can't quite bring yourself to acknowledge the feeling, even to yourself.

Yunho's hand rises with a touch of hesitation before gently resting on the top of your head, playfully ruffling your hair to convey a silent 'good job.' Your entire face warms at the simple gesture, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

"Now, it's time to focus on those major tests, okay?" Yunho exclaims, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he makes an effort to infuse you with the same excitement.

"Yes, sir," you respond with a playful salute, evoking a chuckle from his lips. Saluting Yunho has become somewhat of a habit, and he finds it endearing every time you do it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

You offer a nod, a warm smile gracing your face as you wave and bid farewell to Yunho and his friends.

Walking away, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for Yunho's unwavering support, not just as a tutor but as a friend who is being a great help in your journey toward success.

His encouragement had been a driving force in your recent accomplishments, and you couldn't have been happier to share this victory with him and his friends in the vibrant courtyard, a testament to the bonds forged through your academic pursuits.

As you depart, Yunho's gaze lingers on your retreating figure, a faint smile gracing his lips as he replays the conversation in his mind. The moment you vanish from his sight, his friends swivel toward him, their faces etched with bewilderment and curiosity.

"When you mentioned you were tutoring someone, you didn't say it was them?" Wooyoung exclaims, genuine confusion stemming from the exchange they just witnessed.

Yunho, momentarily caught off guard by their reactions, inquires, "What do you mean?" He shifts his attention toward the group, ready to address their inquiries.

"Dude, she's the most popular person in this school; you don't just get to talk to them," San chimes in, his astonishment mirroring Wooyoung's.

Yunho, however, didn't buy into the notion of social hierarchies. He pokes San in the forehead, responding, "We're not in high school anymore, and there's no such thing as popular girls and guys."

Wooyoung's expression softens as he mulls over your interaction. "And they were so nice," he continues, noting Yunho's reaction. "I didn't expect someone with their status to be so nice."

Yunho's annoyance flares at the stereotype implied in Wooyoung's words, his brow furrowing. "Don't hold such stereotypes," he chastises his friend. "They... they are the sweetest person I know."

San's eyes widen as he glances at Yunho, connecting the dots. "Holy moly," he exclaims. "You like them, don't you?"

Yunho scrambles to hush him up, his cheeks flushing. "Shut up," he grumbles, though the embarrassment in his voice hints at a deeper truth.

—

“Ugh, I’m never going to pass this test,” you groan as you throw your head into your hands, frustration emitting from your every fibre.

"Come on, don't be so pessimistic. You've got this, and I believe in you," Yunho exclaims, his warm smile casting a ray of encouragement over the room. He watches as you succumb to a hissy fit, a mix of frustration and self-doubt, a smile covering his features at your actions.

"You always say that, but this time I am doomed," you groan, your voice muffled by your hands as you bury your face in them.

Gently, Yunho reaches out and takes your hands, coaxing them away from your face. The contact sends a brief tremor through your heart, and you can’t help but notice the warmth of his touch.

"You can do it; you're the smartest person I know," Yunho says softly, locking his eyes with yours. His words catch you off guard, and you look at him, a puzzled expression furrowing your brow.

"I'm not smart; if I were, I wouldn't need a tutor," you state flatly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone, which elicits a chuckle from Yunho.

"I'd be an idiot not to see your potential. I just think you had your priorities muddled when you first came here," he remarks.

Curious, you probe further. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's no secret you enjoy a party," Yunho replies.

"No, before that."

"Oh," Yunho responds, and he continues, seemingly on a roll, "Well, I'd have to be blind not to see how smart you actually are. You're very capable of applying knowledge and solving problems. You have an excellent memory; most of the time, I only have to explain something once, and you've already processed it and applied it. It's very impressive. You're incredibly talented too. I see all the drawings you do in your book when you’re bored."

Yunho continues his praise, yet he is unaware of the emotions that well up within you. When he eventually glances in your direction, he is taken aback to find your eyes glistening with tears and a smile gracing your face.

"Did I say something wrong? I'm so sorry if it wasn't my intention," he inquires quickly, a sense of concern crossing his features as he worries he may have inadvertently hurt your feelings.

You shake your head and wipe away a tear, still smiling. "No, Yunho. It's just... no one really sees me like that anymore."

Now Yunho is confused for a different reason. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, most people see me as the 'popular girl' or 'the life of the party.' I don't know. It's nice to be seen as something other than the stereotype.”

"I know what you mean," Yunho says, his hand ruffling his hair as his cheeks turn a faint shade of red.

"What do you mean?" you ask, intrigued by his response.

"Well, I'm usually seen as a nerd or a loner. People only talk to me when they need help with assignments or answers for exams. It was nice at first, feeling needed, but now it just feels like I'm being used in a way. I only have two friends, and they spend more time with each other than they do with me." Yunho admits, his gaze drifting down to his fingers, where he idly picks at a piece of dead skin on his nail.

"I know it's weird coming from me since you're literally my tutor, but I don't think your intelligence defines you," You begin, causing Yunho to look up at you with a puzzled expression, waiting for you to elaborate.

You continue, your words flowing with sincerity, "You're a sweetheart, Yunho. I see you helping people, not because you have to, but because you genuinely enjoy it. You're kind, a gentleman, and incredibly thoughtful. Your sense of humour is beyond anyone I've ever met before; it's refreshing to talk to someone whose humour isn't just 'your momma' jokes or making others look bad to get a laugh."

Yunho furrows his eyebrows, taking in your words, his expression almost studying them.

"Plus," you add, a warm smile gracing your face, "whether you like it or not, I consider you my friend."

—

The evening sun casts a warm glow over the campus as you join your friend group in the bustling cafeteria. Laughter and chatter filled the air as you settled in with them at your usual table. The topic of conversation quickly turns to the party happening later in the night, an event that has become increasingly rare for you to attend. The thought of partying when there was a crucial final exam on the horizon weighs heavily on your mind.

"Hey, you are coming to the party tonight, right?" your friend asks, a glimmer of anticipation in their eyes.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing what your priorities were. "I wish I could, but I really need to study for the final exam," you explain.

Immediately, your friends' expressions grow sour, and they exchange incredulous glances. "Again? You're always studying or making excuses. It's like you're avoiding us," one of them remarks, frustration creeping into their tone.

Their words sting, and you feel the pressure of their expectations bearing down on you. "I'm not avoiding anyone; I just have to prioritise my studies, you guys know I might get expelled." you insist, your voice wavering slightly as you try to maintain your composure.

But your friends aren’t satisfied with your explanation.

"You never come to parties anymore. You're turning into a loser nerd, just like that loner Yunho," another friend declares with a snide tone, and the others chime in agreement, chuckles leaving their mouths.

The words strike a nerve, and you can’t hold back any longer. How dare they insult Yunho, who has been there for you during your toughest times of studying? The anger that has been building up inside you erupts.

"Yunho is not a loser," you snap, your voice filled with indignation. "He's been more of a friend to me than any of you. If you can't understand the importance of my studies and support me, then I don't need ‘friends’ like you."

At that moment, you make a decision. These friends are just immature individuals who only care about getting drunk and partying. They value popularity and shallow connections over your well-being and academic success. You have had enough of pretending to be something you weren't just to fit in.

"I don't care about popularity if it means I have to be fake and have fake-ass friends," you exclaim. With that, you push your chair back and leave the table, leaving your former friends behind, realising that true friendship means understanding and respecting your priorities, not forcing you to compromise your goals.

Walking away from the cafeteria, you feel a mix of anger, relief, and sadness. It was painful to let go of friendships that had once meant so much to you, but you knew that your academic journey is more important than trying to fit into a mould that didn't truly represent who you were.

Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t prevent them from spilling over as you stand just outside the school gates. You pay no mind to the curious glances of onlookers, for your emotions are too overwhelming to be hidden. You aren’t entirely certain if these tears are born of sadness, frustration, or a turbulent mix of both.

Without even thinking, you pull out your phone and dial Yunho’s number. You are not sure if you want to be alone tonight, yet you definitely do not want to go to a party. The only person you know will be available is Yunho. Maybe you can have an extra study session tonight.

It takes the phone only five seconds before Yunho picks up, his voice bright as he greets you.

"Hey, Yunho," you begin, attempting to maintain a sense of composure, but the tremor in your voice reveals your unease.

Yunho's keen ear picks up on the shakiness in your tone, and concern washes over him as he responds with a soft, soothing voice, "What's wrong?"

You sniffle, trying to brush off the emotions threatening to overcome you. "Nothing, it's nothing," you reply, your voice still carrying the traces of distress. "Are you free to study? I don't have anything to do, and I need to go over a few things."

Yunho is aware that a big party is scheduled for tonight, information he had gathered from Wooyoung, who also enjoys such gatherings. He finds it puzzling that you, too, had initially expressed an interest in attending the event, but he refrained from voicing his curiosity.

"I am free, but the library is closed today, and the school is closing soon too," Yunho explains, an idea begins to take root in his mind, and he hesitates before asking, "You could come to my place?"

The offer hangs in the air for a moment, full of unspoken implications. Yunho's excitement about the prospect of having you over is palpable, yet he tries to maintain his composure. He knows that his place will offer a quiet environment for studying.

The offer hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, you hesitate. You are well aware that accepting Yunho's invitation would signify a slight shift in your academic tutor relationship. The unspoken implications dance in the silence between you.

Yunho, on the other hand, finds his nervousness manifesting in the way he chews the inside of his cheek. His heart races as he awaits your response, unsure of how you would react to his proposition.

Despite your initial reservations, you can’t seem to bring yourself to decline his offer. The warmth and genuine concern that Yunho has consistently shown makes you feel safe and comfortable around him, and you find it difficult to resist the idea of studying in his presence, even if it means stepping slightly outside the boundaries of your tutor-student dynamic.

“What’s your address?”

Making your way to Yunho's apartment, the anticipation of seeing him outside the usual academic setting adds an extra layer of excitement to your steps. The prospect of stepping into his personal space, even for a study session, feels like a small adventure.

You reach his apartment door and take a moment to collect yourself, your heart beating just a bit faster with each passing second. When you knock, the immediate rustling sounds from the other side of the door indicate that Yunho is indeed home.

The door opens, revealing a sight that takes your breath away. You are accustomed to seeing Yunho in smart attire, his hair always neatly styled, and he consistently looks presentable. However, the man who stands before you now is quite different.

Yunho is dressed in a loose grey T-shirt that hangs comfortably on his frame, and he wears a pair of black sweatpants that appear as cosy as they are casual. His hair is fluffy and untamed, in stark contrast to his usually well-groomed appearance. Yet, for some reason, this version of Yunho is just as captivating.

He still wears his thick glasses, but the way he looks now, so relaxed and approachable, makes your heart flutter. You can’t help but notice the subtle differences that render him all the more appealing. Your eyes linger on his toned arms, a part of him that was typically concealed beneath his attire. The sight of them, revealed in the simple T-shirt, is enough to send a rush of warmth throughout your body.

Yunho's appearance today is a stark departure from his usual academic demeanour, and it leaves you both pleasantly surprised and, admittedly, a little flustered.

"Hey, uh, you can come in," Yunho stammers, a faint blush covering his cheeks.

You step inside, casting a brief but appreciative glance around Yunho's apartment. The space is on the smaller side, but it exudes a cosy charm that instantly puts you at ease. The apartment is immaculately clean and well-organised with a sense of tranquillity that contrasts with the bustling student life outside.

The living room is adorned with shelves, and the shelves are full of an impressive array of books, neatly arranged in rows. The sight of so many books gives you a glimpse into the depth of his knowledge and his passion for education.

As you look around, you notice a comfortable-looking sofa with a warm throw blanket tossed over it, a sign of a space that was both functional and inviting. The soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated a study area with a well-kept desk, hinting at countless hours of diligent work.

Yunho's apartment is not large, but it feels like a haven for anyone seeking a peaceful refuge from the outside world. It reminds you of Yunho.

"Do you want something to drink or eat?" Yunho asks, his voice tinged with a touch of nervousness as he observes your exploration of his apartment.

You take a moment to absorb the cosy ambiance of his living space before replying, "Have you had dinner?"

Yunho's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, and a small, endearing smile graced his lips. “I haven't yet, I was going to order something later.”

“Can we eat together? I haven't eaten since this morning.”

Yunho grumbles your name, reprimanding you, "I told you, you need to eat regularly; it helps with..."

You finish his sentence with a soft chuckle, "Concentration, I know, Yu."

The use of the affectionate nickname "Yu" slips easily from your lips, and you are unaware of the profound impact it has on Yunho. His heart races at the sound of it, though he tries to hide his reaction with a smile.

You continue, "We can eat while studying, right?" Your suggestion seems to lighten the mood, and Yunho is more than willing to accommodate your request.

“Of course.”

Yunho and you sit on the floor of his living room, your books and notes spread out on his coffee table, which also hold the remnants of an empty pizza box from your meal earlier. This makeshift study space is cosy, and the atmosphere is filled with the shared pursuit of knowledge.

Yunho is positioned in front of you, as he often is during your study sessions, carefully watching you as you diligently take notes. He couldn't help but admire your dedication and determination, and his heart swelled with pride as he saw your progress.

As you write, a strand of hair slips from behind your ear and falls in front of your face. It is a simple, everyday occurrence, but to Yunho, it is a moment of subtle beauty. He feels a strong urge to reach out and tuck that strand of hair behind your ear, to be close to you in that small, intimate way. However, he holds back, not wanting to push any boundaries that existed between you.

He watches with fascination as you decide to tie your hair up, using a hairband that was on your wrist. The act of gathering your hair and securing it in a ponytail seems almost magical to him. Yunho can’t deny the allure of how you look with your hair up, a sense of casual elegance that tugs at his heart.

In this moment, his thoughts stray to less innocent territories, but he quickly redirects his focus to the task at hand. He can’t afford to let his mind wander too far, not when the two of you are deep in a study session and he is fairly certain you would never harbour feelings for him in that way.

However, the image of you with your hair tied up stays with him, etched into his memory, a reminder of the many facets of your charm that make it increasingly difficult for him to keep his feelings at bay.

You furrow your brows, attempting to decipher a particularly complex passage about pathogens. It is a subject that has always managed to baffle you, and tonight was no exception.

Glancing up, you are caught off guard by the intense gaze of Yunho. He was already intently staring at you, an indescribable emotion in his eyes. Clearing your throat, you shift your focus back to the book, feeling the weight of his attention. Yunho immediately averts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in his own book.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to take a chance and ask the question that has been bothering you about the microorganism. "Yunho, can you help me with this? I don't quite understand this."

Yunho's attention snaps back to you, his eyes focusing on the book. However, as he leans in to get a better look, the words on the page seem to blur. Determined to help you, he moves closer, sitting next to you on the floor. His arm brushing against yours, his thigh lightly touching yours, creates a subtle yet undeniable physical connection.

Yunho looks down at your bare thighs and he mentally curses you for wearing a skirt, he isn't sure how to pay attention when you are so close to him.

Yunho begins to explain the terminology and you find it increasingly challenging to concentrate on the subject. Your eyes are locked on his face, drawn to the way his lips move and the subtle changes in his expression as he explains the concepts. His proximity was both distracting and comforting, and you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

You cannot deny the allure of Yunho's presence. His crisp scent, a mix of a rich, woody sweetness and a hint of cologne, fills your senses and sends your mind racing. It is an intoxicating aroma that evokes a sense of freshness and warmth, creating an almost magnetic pull.

Listening to Yunho's explanations, you struggle to keep your focus on the topic at hand. Your eyes remain fixed on his face, capturing the play of emotions and the genuine care he puts into helping you understand. In this moment, the connection between you is undeniable, and the unspoken tension in the air seems to grow with each passing second. Little did you both know the profound effect you are having on each other as you lean against one another, on the verge of something unspoken. The second Yunho moves back to his seat, you suddenly feel awfully cold and empty, yet once again you push the feelings away.

The two of you continue your study session, when Yunho suddenly removes his glasses and rubs his eyes in a gesture of weariness. His actions catch your attention, and your gaze remains locked on his face, momentarily entranced by the change in his appearance.

In all the time you have spent with Yunho, you have never really taken into consideration how handsome he might be without his glasses. Now, as you observe his bare face, you are struck by his natural beauty. His features are chiselled and symmetrical, and there is a timeless quality to his face that make him incredibly appealing.

Yunho's clear eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, hold a depth that you haven't fully appreciated before. His skin was smooth and unblemished, and his lips had a natural rosy hue. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a different charm to him that you have never taken the time to notice.

For a moment, you find yourself in awe of how genuinely handsome he is, and you can’t help but appreciate the sight of him with his glasses off.

The study session is coming to a close, and as you gather your books and notes, you notice a curious look on Yunho's face. It is evident that he has something on his mind, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Is there something??" you inquire, your voice soft and inquisitive.

Yunho hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "When you called, you seemed upset. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I was just worried."

You look at him with a touch of surprise at his perceptiveness.

The fight with your friends wasn’t something you had planned to discuss, but you can sense the genuine concern in Yunho's expression, and you feel compelled to share.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to explain the situation, recounting the immaturity and unfair accusations that had led to the fallout. Yunho's shock and disbelief at their behaviour is palpable, and his expression reveals a mix of sympathy and frustration on your behalf.

"I can't believe they'd act like that," Yunho exclaims, his voice laced with sympathy. "It's their loss, you know. You're an incredible person, and they're the ones who are missing out."

Yunho's words are comforting, and the warmth of his understanding makes you feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. It is a rare and welcome feeling to have someone truly empathise with your situation, and you find yourself grateful for his support.

Yunho watches you with a tender look when suddenly his curiosity gets the best of him, and he asks, "What does your boyfriend think of you coming to my house and spending so much time with me?"

You let out a sigh, the question touching a nerve you are not quite ready to address. "I don't have a boyfriend," you confess, and for a moment, there is a hint of vulnerability in your voice.

Yunho, genuinely surprised, raises an eyebrow, trying to hide his excitement as he peers at you. "Why not?"

You sigh again, your gaze dropping to the floor. "Most of the boys I'm around aren't ready for a relationship. They just want something casual, and I don't want to get my heart broken."

Yunho's brow furrows as he considers your response. "I didn't expect that," he admits, his voice tinged with surprise.

"What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely curious about his reaction.

Yunho sets a piece of paper he had been studying in front of him, "I mean, you have guys falling at your feet. Don't you have one person you enjoy spending time with?"

You ponder on his words, your eyes lingering on Yunho, who is now fully engaged in the paper. He isn't looking at you; instead, his gaze is focused on the words before him.

After a moment of contemplation, you respond, "I enjoy spending time with you."

The second the words leave your lips, Yunho looks up from his reading, and the world seems to momentarily stand still around you. His heart skips a beat, and for a fraction of a second, everything else fades into the background. Your words hang in the air, and Yunho lets them sink in.

In this suspended moment, it is as if the universe conspired to create a connection that went beyond friendship and tutoring. Yunho's heart pounds in his chest, and he can’t help but meet your gaze with a mixture of surprise and affection.

Yunho cannot deny the impact of your confession. It is a sentiment he has quietly harboured but never dared to voice. Now, as the reality of your words settle in, he can’t help but feel a sense of joy and gratitude for the special bond that has grown between you, transcending the boundaries of tutor and student.

—

The night is alive with the promise of revelry as you arrive at a party, a whirlwind of colour and sound. It has been some time since you'd attended such an event, focusing intensely on your studies. But tonight is different. Hongjoong, an old friend who had no knowledge of falling out with your other friends, had invited you. You trusted him not to judge your academic priorities, and the prospect of enjoying yourself was too tempting to resist.

You had chosen to let loose for the evening. After an intense study session last night, you felt you deserved a break. You wear a stunning deep purple dress that hugs your curves, accentuating your figure in all the right places. The fabric clings to you like a second skin, and its elegance draws the admiring gazes of many in attendance. Though you are well aware of the attention, you can’t help but feel indifferent to it now. Your priorities have shifted, and the superficial desires of others hold little sway over you.

Entering the party, the vibrant atmosphere envelopes you. The music throbs with an infectious beat, and the dance floor pulses with people lost in the rhythm. Laughter and conversations fill the air, and the warm glow of colourful lights creates a dazzling backdrop for the night's festivities.

Spotting Hongjoong in the kitchen, you make your way through the bustling crowd. He is deeply engrossed in a lively conversation with some of his friends, a characteristic grin lighting up his face. A sense of nostalgia and anticipation welled up within you as you drew closer.

You approach Hongjoong, who is mingling near the drinks table, a welcoming smile on his face as he spots you.

“Do you want a drink?” He offers, but you decline, stating that you have an early lecture the next morning.

Hongjoong nods understandingly, knowing you are dedicated to your studies. You are grateful for his response, as he does not press the issue but simply smiles and continues with the conversation.

“So you’ve gone back to your nerd roots,” Hongjoong jokes as he hands you a cup of cola.

You laugh as you take the cup, “it’s been a while since I've studied this hard,”

“You were always stuck in a book in highschool,”

“It’s nice to feel like my brain isn't rotting anymore,” you exclaim laughing.

“I’ll cheers to that,”

As you chat with Hongjoong, you enjoy catching up and the lively atmosphere of the party. When all of a sudden you see a familiar figure from the corner of your eye. At first, you thought your mind might be playing tricks on you, but as you turn your head, you realise it was indeed who you thought it was.

Quickly, you bid a quick goodbye to Hongjoong and make your way through the crowd, heading straight for the person, who seems to be stumbling around slightly.

Concern etched on your face, you approach him and ask, "Yunho, what on earth are you doing here?"

Yunho's expression is a mix of surprise and embarrassment as he struggles to regain his composure. "Uh… I’m not really sure," he admits, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You can’t help but feel a combination of amusement and warmth at his unexpected presence. Yunho, who usually exudes an air of composed intelligence, seems to be a bit out of his element in the party scene. Nonetheless, you appreciated the effort he made to be there.

"Are you okay?" You question, his anxious eyes dart around the crowded room, taking in the chaotic atmosphere of the party.

Yunho hesitates for a moment before admitting, "Would it be weird if I said I don't like it here?"

A warm smile graces your face, understanding his unease in this unfamiliar setting. Without hesitation, you reach out and gently grab his hand, your fingers interlocking boldly. Yunho is taken aback by the physical contact, feeling the warmth of your hand in his, and his heart flutters in response.

You lead him to a more secluded area of the house where the music is not as deafening, and the crowd is much thinner. The change of scenery provides a welcome respite from the overwhelming chaos of the main party area. Yunho can’t ignore the way your small hands feel in his large ones, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. It is a simple gesture, but it makes him feel closer to you, dispelling some of his unease.

In the quieter, more secluded area of the house, you and Yunho find a temporary refuge from the bustling party.

"What are you really doing here?" you ask, curiosity in your eyes.

Yunho's expression shifts, and he admits, "Wooyoung dragged me here. I didn't really want to come, and I already don't like it." His eyes scan the room, taking in the scene around him.

For a moment, Yunho's gaze settles on you, and he notices your choice of attire, a short, form-fitting dress that accentuates your curves. It is a striking sight that leaves an indelible impression on him. His mind wanders to non-innocent places, etching the image of you in this dress into his memory. He can’t deny that you look stunning, and his thoughts momentarily venture into uncharted territory.

Although his initial discomfort at the party has faded, the sight of you in that dress stirs something within him, something he has only thought of late at night. It is an unexpected sight that leaves Yunho in a state of internal turmoil, struggling to keep his thoughts in check as he tries to focus on the conversation at hand.

The pulsating music and the chaotic atmosphere of the party seems to close in around you. Suddenly a thought crosses your mind, and you turn to Yunho, considering your options.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you ask, your voice barely audible over the party noise.

Your question snaps Yunho out of his thoughts, and he looks back up at you as if he had been caught taking in your form. His gaze meets yours, and for a brief moment, you can see the vulnerability in his eyes. It is a rare sight, and it makes you feel even more connected to him.

It takes less than a second for Yunho to answer, "Yes."

Without further hesitation, he intertwines your fingers with his, and you both rush towards the exit of the house. Yunho's larger frame shields you from the reckless partiers who are going strong, ensuring you don't get caught in the chaos of the crowd. The touch of his hand is both reassuring and electrifying, and it feels like an unspoken agreement between the two of you; an escape from the madness into a more tranquil and intimate setting.

You are not sure how you ended up at Yunho’s apartment, yet you cannot quite complain. Since the study session at his house you have desired to be back at his, it was so comforting and peaceful in his house and you love it there.

"You can make yourself at home, I'm going to grab us some food," Yunho explains as he opens the door to his cosy apartment. He moves to grab his wallet from the coffee table, ready to head out to pick up the food.

However, as he attempts to pass you and make his way to the door, you stand in front of him, blocking his path. The look on your face reveals your disappointment, and it is clear that you don’t want him to leave so soon.

"Can we order it?" you ask, your voice filled with a longing for his company.

Yunho hesitates for a moment, weighing the options, but he ultimately replies, "It'll be quicker for me to get it now."

Despite his practical reasoning, you insisted, "Please stay with me Yunho."

Yunho can’t help but be touched by your plea. The vulnerability in your voice causes a flutter in his chest, and he is acutely aware of the genuine connection that has developed between you. He smiles and relents, realising that he doesn’t want to leave you either.

"Okay," he speaks softly, "I'll order it."

Your gratitude was evident in your eyes, and you knew you had made the right decision. Yunho's presence is something you cherished, and you are both beginning to understand just how much the other means to you.

You settle onto his couch, and soon enough the Chinese takeout that you had ordered arrives, the delightful aroma filling the room. It is a welcomed comfort that you both enjoy as you unwrap the containers and share the delicious meal.

You watch as Yunho picks a movie that he recommends, and you were intrigued to see his choice.

As you and Yunho start to watch the movie, you can’t help but feel a chill in the room. The soft glow from the TV illuminated your silhouette, the short dress you are wearing now seems impractical in the cosy setting.

Yunho, ever attentive, notices your discomfort and decides to speak up. "Are you cold?" he inquires, a hint of concern in his voice.

You hesitate for a moment but soon admit, "Yeah, a little."

Without further ado, Yunho offers a solution. "I have some warmer clothes you can borrow if you want. I could grab them for you."

His thoughtful gesture leaves you flustered, but you manage to stammer out a grateful "Yes, please." Your heart warms at the consideration he shows, and you appreciate his willingness to make you more comfortable.

Yunho quickly gets up and disappears into his bedroom. He returns with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, both of which were his own. His choice of clothing was deliberate, as he handed you his favourite hoodie. He has often wondered what you would look like wearing it, and now he has the perfect excuse to find out. The hoodie is warm and smells like him, making you feel closer to him in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Yunho can’t help but watch you with a warm smile as you accept the clothes. However, the smile quickly fades as he realises his mistake, and he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"Oh, sorry," he quickly stutters out, chuckling nervously as he ruffles the back of his hair, "You can change in my bedroom."

You laugh gently at him, he is so cute.

“Thank you,” you smile before walking into his bedroom.

Entering Yunho's bedroom, you can’t help but take in the clean and organised space. His room is a testament to his meticulous nature, and you appreciate the attention to detail. But what truly catches your eye are the posters of various games adorning the walls. You admired the artwork and can’t help but think that they add a personal touch to the room.

Shaking off the distraction, you proceed to change into Yunho's clothes. The hoodie he has given you is larger than you expected, enveloping you in warmth and reaching down to your mid-thigh. The realisation of just how big Yunho begins to dawn on you.

His hoodie seems to swallow you in its comfort, and you can’t help but feel a little bit smaller. His physical presence is undeniable; he is taller than you, his shoulders are broad, and his hands are significantly larger than yours. The contrast is alluring, and you can’t deny that the thought of him towering over you, his sheer size and strength, stirs something within you.

You feel arousal pooling in between your legs, but you push aside the feeling, not sure if Yunho would feel the same way.

The hoodie is so long, you make a bold choice to not wear the sweatpants, seeing as the hoodie covers everything. Plus, there's no harm in seeing Yunho’s reaction.

You step out of the room, and Yunho is skimming between channels, trying to find a different movie to watch.

When Yunho hears your footsteps approaching the living room, he turns around to look at you, expecting to see you in his clothes. However, what he sees leaves his heart nearly stopping. There you stand, wearing nothing but his hoodie, your legs exposed and on full display.

Yunho's breath catches in his throat, and he swallows deeply, trying to suppress the flood of sensations and indecent thoughts that surge through his mind. His cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and he is unable to tear his eyes away from you, his gaze inadvertently lingering on your enticing figure.

In this moment, he finds himself captivated by your beauty and the unexpected intimacy of the situation, struggling to maintain his composure. The sight of you in his hoodie was something he had never expected, and it sends his heart and mind into a whirlwind of emotions and desires.

"What's wrong?" you inquire, noticing the wide-eyed and bright red expression on Yunho's face as he gazes at you with an intensity you haven't seen before.

It is as if a switch has flipped in Yunho's mind, and suddenly, confidence takes over his being. You watch in amazement as he stands up from the couch and moves with a determined purpose towards you.

With each step, it is evident that he is almost out of breath, his chest heaving with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He stops in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. For a moment, you feel like you are the only person in the world for him, and the possessiveness in his gaze doesn’t go unnoticed.

Yunho's large hands land gently on your shoulders, and they slowly trail down to clasp yours. His touch is electrifying, and as he guides you backward, you soon find yourself pressed against the wall, pinned there by his presence. The air seems charged with an unspoken desire, and you can’t help but be captivated by this new side of Yunho.

Yunho murmurs your name, his voice thick with desire and uncertainty. He continues, "You can tell me to stop if you want..."

You don’t hesitate for a moment. In a hushed, eager tone, you reply, "Yunho, just kiss me for fuck's sake."

Yunho gently cups your cheek, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of tenderness and desire. Leaning closer, his lips press against your cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they venture down toward your mouth. He pauses for a moment, watching you closely, his breath brushing across your face, sending shivers down your spine.

With careful consideration, he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, testing the waters, and eliciting a soft gasp from you. Feeling the tightening grip of your hand on his shirt, he gains the reassurance he needs to continue. Slowly, he deepens the kiss, his lips melding with yours, the softness and warmth sending a wave of astonishment through your body. His lips move against yours and all the feelings of the past few months pour into the kiss.

Yunho delicately probes his tongue into your mouth, you can’t help but respond. Your fingers tighten their hold on his shirt, and a surge of electric sensations course through your body, leaving you breathless and eager for more.

Yunho's kiss tastes like pure indulgence, a blend of desire and longing that leaves you yearning for more. The feeling is exquisite, and you can’t help but moan softly in response to the intensity of the moment.

His lips leave yours, trailing down your neck from the curve of your jaw. Soft gasps escape your lips as he explores the sensitive skin of your throat, sending shivers down your spine as he presses you harder against the wall, the heat of the kiss overcoming the two of you. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you instinctively threw your head back, granting him better access to your neck.

Yunho breaks away from the kiss, a hint of frustration in his eyes as he tosses his glasses aside, irritated by their intrusion. His dark and intense gaze is now fully revealed, making you realise the depth of his desire. Without delay, he reconnects your lips with a hungry passion that leaves you breathless.

His hands begin a journey down your waist, their touch igniting sparks of pleasure. With astonishing ease, he lifts you off your feet, his strength both surprising and exciting. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, and that is when you feel his hardness prodding you through your underwear. You suddenly feel extremely thankful for not wearing the sweatpants as he now has easier access to where you want him most.

Yunho carries you toward his bedroom with an air of urgency, his strides confident and determined. With a swift, well-placed kick, he sends the bedroom door wide open.

He gently sits on the edge of the mattress, you find yourself in his lap, the warmth of his body enveloping you. The world outside fades into insignificance, and you are left with a sense of anticipation that sends shivers down your spine. The connection between you and Yunho grew stronger, and the intensity of the moment only heightened your desire for one another.

Yunho’s hands travel to your hips, where he kneads the flesh appreciatively. With a calculated move, he pushes you down onto himself, grinding you against his hardness. This causes the both of you to moan into the kiss, the both of you addicted to the sound.

“Yunho, please,” you mutter into the kiss, needing relief that you know Yunho will provide.

“What do you want, beautiful?” Yunho groans back against your lips when he feels you grinding yourself onto him.

“You.” you say with confidence, “always been you.” you declare and it has Yunho’s heart racing even faster in his chest.

Yunho realises the fun he can have in this situation, and he feels addicted to the control he has over you. You bury your face into Yunho’s neck, your embarrassment becoming apparent.

“How badly?” Yunho teases as he places long hot kisses on the side of your neck.

“Please Yunho, please.” usually you would feel humiliated, yet you have no time to feel any form of embarrassment, your desire is too strong. With a swift yet tender movement, Yunho deftly flips the two of you over, your back now resting on the plush comfort of his bed. He settles between your open legs, the space between you filled with electrifying anticipation as the world around you blurred into obscurity.

“Since you’re such a good girl, I have to take care of you, don’t I?”

Yunho's transformation is nothing short of mesmerising. The once innocent aura that surrounded him has gone, replaced by a commanding presence that leaves your head spinning. It is as if he has unlocked a hidden side of himself, and the intensity of his actions and words leave you completely captivated and yearning for more.

With a gentle motion, Yunho pulls the hoodie off, revealing your bare chest to his hungry eyes. He takes in the sight of your naked top half and your panties and it is better than all the times he has imagined it. Your nipples immediately harden in the chilly air and you hastily rush to cover yourself.

“Do not,” Yunho's gentle yet commanding voice holds you in its sway, preventing you from covering yourself. He takes hold of your wrists, his words alone enough to convey his desire, and you obediently nod in agreement, unable to resist his irresistible influence.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers as he scans over your body.

Yunho begins to leave soft kisses across your collar bones, reaching your shoulders and neck as he simultaneously massages the flesh of your breast. He leaves open mouthed kisses on your skin, suckling and biting marks into your skin that only he gets to see.

Slowly, he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, sucking it, and biting the sensitive nub, an action that has you arching and moaning into his touch.

“You sound so beautiful moaning for me.” Yunho growls before moving to your other nipple and giving it the same attention, making sure to watch your every reaction.

In an agonising pace, Yunho trails his kisses down and you can almost feel yourself shaking from excitement as he nears where you need him the most.

You almost explode the second you feel Yunho’s mouth trailing along your thighs, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh.

Yunho chuckles darkly when he hears your excited gasps and moans, the sounds are like a beautiful melody to him, causing him to want more.

Yunho's sudden act of sitting up to remove his jumper catches your attention, and your eyes remain fixated on him. What you see beneath his clothes surprises you. His toned, well-defined upper body, his waist is slender, his shoulders are broad, giving him a somewhat hourglass-like figure. While he isn’t overly muscular, his physique was indeed a captivating sight. Chiselled abs adorn his stomach, and an irresistible desire wells up within you, compelling you to kiss every inch of his flawless skin.

Yunho's chest swells with pride as he observes your intense gaze on his body. He can hardly believe the turn of events and the desire he sees in your eyes.

Yunho smirks as your hands fumble towards his belt, desperately wanting his pants off.

"Patience, doll," Yunho asserts, his voice exuding confidence as he helps you remove his belt.

Left in only his boxers, you can see his length outlined through his black boxers and your breath is momentarily taken away. He is big, very big. You cannot help but let out a whimper of desperation as you look back up Yunho, who has a cocky grin on his features.

Leaning down, he starts placing light kisses on your stomach and thighs, getting close, but not quite close enough for your liking.

Instinctively, you run your fingers through his locks, trying to push him closer to where you need him. You hear Yunho chuckle at your eagerness, his heart racing knowing you want him as much as he wants you.

You watch Yunho’s every move, wanting to imprint every moment deep into your memory.

Yunho presses a gentle kiss against your clothed core, eliciting a soft mewl from your lips and Yunho hums in appreciation. You feel your whole body heat up in embarrassment as Yunho pulls your panties down, tossing them to the side of the room. You attempt to close your legs, feeling extremely exposed. Yunho feels himself losing self control as he looks at your soaking core, yet he tells himself to control his urges, wanting to make this last for much longer.

Yunho isn’t pleased with this and he lets out a growl as he speaks, “open those legs and let me see that pretty pussy.”

He grips your thighs, forcing them open and you can't help feel another rush of arousal course through you from his strength. It annoys you how slow he is, taking his time to get where you need him, he is too busy enjoying every small reaction, your desperation and eye fucking you, gauging every one of your gasps and twitches.

Yet the second his lips are on your core, the loud moan you let out is close to a scream and you feel him raviging you. His mouth works expertly against you, his tongue alternating between flicking your clit to lapping at your soaking hole has you seeing stars.

Your body squirms with pleasure under Yunho's skilled touch, your fingers instinctively weaving into his hair as he eats you like you are his last meal.

“Yunho, please…” your voice is hoarse as you look down at him.

Yunho gazes up at you, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, making your thoughts hazy.

“Please what, pretty?” Yunho questions, yet as you are about to answer, he slips in one of his long fingers into your core. The second he feels your warm walls around him, he feels himself fighting the urge to destroy you right there and then. You jolt at the sensation, tears lining your eyes because of how desperate you are to be filled by him.

“Want you…need you…” you say, your voice shaky as you throw your head back against the pillow.

“Oh baby,” Yunho tuts, his voice almost condescending as he stares up at your fucked out state, “your pussy is so tight, I need to prep you before, don’t want you to get hurt.”

Yunho's words send another wave of desire coursing through your veins. The contrast between his stern tone and his evident care for your well-being leaves you feeling both dizzy and achingly needy.

“You don't want to get hurt, do you now?” Yunho questions, gently slapping your thigh to get your attention back on him.

“No, I don’t,” you exclaim, doing anything to please the man in front of you.

“Good girl,”

He's ruthless, entering another finger into your wet hole, his tongue alternating sucks and nips on your clit. With ease, he manages to find the spot inside you that sets fireworks through you and you feel the coil in your belly starting to tighten in pleasure.

"So fucking good, doll." He groans, his face pressed against your core has your cunt throbbing. “Can you even take my dick? I don’t want to hurt you when you’re being so good for me.”

You feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm, desperate to topple over the edge. All you need is a little encouragement, and you're extremely glad Yunho is so good at reading you.

“Let loose, baby. Be a good girl and cum on my fingers.”

You let out a loud moan, almost a scream as your orgasm hits you and Yunho holds your shaking body down, licking your clit softly as you finish.

Before you can finish riding through your high, Yunho continues to kiss your pussy gently while adding a finger, the sudden stretch in your hole has you whining and writhing around from the sensitivity, his rough movements from his long fingers has you shaking even more. You beg for him to slow down and, thankfully he leans back, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you twitch beneath him.

Before you can comment on anything, Yunho leans down and captures you in another heated kiss, and you moan when you can taste yourself on his lips, a new rush of arousal flooding through your body.

“Do you want to keep going? We can stop if you want to.” Yunho's voice, filled with concern, warms your heart, but you can't help the groan that escapes your lips.

"I’d love to continue," you rush on your words, your enthusiasm unabated. Chuckling at your eagerness, Yunho moves back slightly, running a hand through his hair as he gazes down at you, a mix of pride and desire evident in his eyes as he looks at your fucked out state.

“Wait shit, I don't know if i have a condom,” Yunho says, worried as he ruffles through his bedside table, not able to find any.

“Wait really?” you question, not even the slightest bit worried about him not having a condom, in fact you almost try to hide your excitement, “it’s okay.”

“What?”

“We don't need it, I'm on the pill.” You exclaim, pulling him by his hand closer to you, so he sits on the bed next to you.

Yunho is taken aback by your boldness, yet he finds it extremely hard to hide his excitement. The low groan that escapes his lips doesn't go unnoticed by you, further fueling the growing intensity of the moment. Yunho looks up at you, his eyes dark as he studies your face for any form of discomfort. When he doesn't see any, he almost moans at the thought of finishing inside of you. “Fuck, baby. You're going to be the death of me.”

The second Yunho removes his boxers, your mouth is almost watering at the sight of his length. Not only is he long, but he is girthy, standing tall. Your mouth hangs slightly open as you take in the sight. You can feel your pussy throbbing at the thought of how well he is going to stretch you out.

“Like what you see?” Just like that, the caring Yunho is once again replaced with the cocky Yunho that you just love.

Instead of firing the bratty comment that is on the tip of your tongue, you simply nod your head, too overcome with the need for him to just destroy you.

Yunho leans over you again, spreading your legs wide to fit right between them, he takes his time rubbing up and down your slit, gathering your arousal to lube himself up. Your whines and whimpers are like music to his ears, and he doesn't know if he can ever get enough of you like this.

Lining up with your entrance, he takes his time to gently slide just the tip in, causing you to gasp lightly. Yunho buries his head into your neck, biting his lip as he attempts to maintain his composure. He knows he needs to take it slow in order to not hurt you, but the way you are clenching around him has his mind spinning with arousal.

He gets back up, his intense gaze watching your every expression as he eases himself in, going at a steady pace. The sting is definitely present and you squint at the light pain.

“Deep breaths, beautiful. You’re doing so well.”

You grab his toned arms as he pushes himself further in, his own breaths getting shallow as he feels your warm walls envelop his length.

‘Stay focused, Yunho,’ he thinks to himself, over and over, desperately trying to keep his composure, yet it proves more difficult by every passing second that your tight pussy sucks him in.

Pleasure surges through you but the only thing you are able to focus on is how full you feel. Your breath catches in your throat and you tense up as he gradually bottoms out, groaning, "So big."

“Yeah, does it feel good?” Yunho’s voice is raspy as he cages you in his arms, his eyes scanning your face.

“So good… please move.” is all you manage to say.

Yunho starts with some slow, teasing thrusts dragging his cock out before pushing it back in and it has you mewling out in pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” Yunho chokes out, his sanity practically gone as he feels your tight walls hugging his cock so nicely.

The beautiful sight of him on top of you, sweaty and lust ridden has you moaning and clenching around his cock. Wrapping your arms tightly around his strong back, your nails dig into his skin as he increases his pace.

"Does this feel good, pretty?"

You are only able to manage out a moan of approval, letting him know, yes, he is doing good. Yunho chuckles against your skin as you let out noises of pleasure, every one spurring him on and making him desperate to make you finish again. In a purposeful movement, Yunho leans his hips back slightly, so his cock is angled in a way where it hits your g spot perfectly with every thrust. Yunho knows he has found it the second your words and moan become a mixed blabbing mess, with this he smirks. He almost doesn't want to stop, he is having too much fun with you.

Yunho grunts as he starts thrusting even faster, his hand coming down to flick your clit, needing you to come on his cock. He needs you to finish before him.

You feel your orgasm approaching fast, and Yunho can tell by the way you clench and claw at his arms, pulling him down to lock him in a heated kiss, he swallows your moans and whimpers happily.

Yunho pulls away from your swollen lips to bury his face in your neck, whispering praise into your ear.

“Who is making you feel this good, doll?” he whispers in his deep voice, “do you want to cumm, pretty girl? Be a good girl and cum on my big dick, I know you want to.”

The coil in your belly tightens even more, your legs starting to shake around him as you moan out his name pathetically.

“That’s it, beautiful, milk my cock dry.”

“Need to cum,”

Yunho’s chest tightens at the desperate tone in your voice and for a moment, he knows he is definitely able to get used to your desperate whines.

“Go ahead, baby cum for me, let the whole neighbourhood know how good I’m making you feel.”

That's all it takes for the coil in your stomach to snap, and your orgasm hits you hard. Intense pleasure ripples through you like tsunami waves, shaking your whole body and making your toes curl as your fingernails dig into his arms. The sensation overwhelms you as your world narrows down to the electrifying connection you share with Yunho.

Yunho follows in suit, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside of you, his choked swears and moans in your ear as he wraps his strong arms around you, securing you in a tight embrace as the two of you ride out your orgasms.

After a few moments of silence, the only sounds to be heard in the room are the deep inhales and exhales of you and Yunho, the two of you lost in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. The intimacy lingers in the air, wrapping around you like a warm, comfortable blanket.

Yunho gently sits up, his arms shaky as he tries to regain his composure. A layer of sweat covers his face, and even in the low light of his room, you think he looks absolutely handsome. His dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks only add to his charm, and you can't help but admire him as he catches his breath.

Slowly, he pulls out, his seed spilling out of your swollen hole, a sight which has Yunho getting hard once again, yet he pushes the thoughts to the side and quickly rushes to the bathroom to grab a washcloth for you.

You can't help but feel a wave of insecurity and vulnerability as Yunho steps away to fetch the washcloth. The moment he disappears from your sight, a rush of unease washes over you, and tears begin to pool in your eyes. You never expected this level of intimacy, and now, seeing him leave even briefly, you fear he might be having second thoughts.

When he returns with the washcloth, he immediately notices the glistening tears in your eyes. Panic sets in, and he rushes to your side, cradling you in his arms.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Did I do something to upset you?"

You sniffle and shake your head. "I'm sorry. I thought you disappeared for good, and I got scared."

Yunho's expression softens as he caresses your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear. "Oh, baby, I would never do that. I promise you, I'm here for you. I'm so sorry for putting that thought in your mind."

He holds you close, offering the warmth and comfort you desperately need, reassuring you that he's not going anywhere.

“Yunho?” You look towards Yunho, whose gaze is already set on you with an affectionate gaze. Tenderly, he pushes a stray hair behind your ear, and a sense of comfort washes over you.

Leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, murmuring, "Yes, baby?"

Your heart flutters at the endearment as you continue, "What are we?"

Yunho raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a warm smile. He knew this question was coming, and he's more than prepared to answer. "Well, if you'll have me, I'd love to be your nerdy boyfriend."

A surge of happiness fills you, and you can't hold back your grin. "Only if you'll have me as your 'not so nerdy' girlfriend?"

Yunho chuckles and cups your face with his hands, sealing the moment with a sweet kiss. "Deal," he whispers against your lips, his arms wrapping even harder around you, securing you in a warm embrace.

“Let’s clean you up, pretty.”

—

“Sitting in Professor Turner's office, you're feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Yunho is right beside you, his presence giving you comfort and assurance. Professor Turner, the mentor you deeply respect, and her opinion matters greatly to you. You've been working tirelessly to improve your grades, and this is the moment of reckoning. To tell whether you are going to be expelled or not.

Professor Turner reviews your recent exam results, and you can't help but glance at Yunho. He's been your constant support, helping you study, explaining complex concepts, and motivating you to push your limits. There's a fond smile on his face, his warm eyes reflecting his pride in your accomplishments.

Finally, Professor Turner finishes her review and looks up at you with an encouraging smile. "I don't know how you did it, but your grades have not only improved, they have excelled. You are somehow one of the best in my class right now."

Your heart swells with pride as you realise the significance of her words. Tears fill your eyes and you feel the heavy weight that has been on your heart for months finally lift.

Yunho's proud smile widens, and the love in his eyes grows even more apparent. You feel a deep sense of accomplishment and happiness, knowing that with his help and your dedication, you've managed to exceed your own expectations and impress one of your most respected professors.

You look over at Yunho, gratitude shining in your eyes, and say,

"Well, I had an amazing tutor."

{i didnt proof read this, so if you see mistakes i apologise, im very tired}

#ateez smut #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #yunho #yunho smut #yunho ateez #yunho x reader #yunho au

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bitchy-craft · 1 month ago

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PICK A CARD: Your future spouse on your birthday

Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! In here I will give you a reading on what your future spouse will be like on your birthday. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Subliminal Channel

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

Your future spouse will give you tons of gifts and love to be the life of the party. They’ll give you a big surprise party with all your friends and family invited, although I also see things close to a frat-party for some of you, maybe college / university lovers. They’ll be very outgoing with their love for you, and want you to have the best, yet most busy day ever.

It might be a little overwhelming, although I do get the feeling your future partner will make sure that won’t happen, or at least prevent it the best they can. They are there for your enjoyment, not theirs, although they might find it difficult sometimes to not go a little overboard; something you’ll also maybe see in the prices of the things they’ll decide to gift you.

Pile 2:

Your future spouse will get you to have a small, fun birthday with not too many people, nor too many things all at ones. Just a cute gathering where your family members and friends can see each other again and talk about everything they’ve been up to since the last time they’ve seen one another. They love socialising themselves, and find friends and family important, which can be seen with how well they get along with your family and friends.

When it comes to gifts they tend to go down the creative route; things they’ve made themselves while keeping your interests and hobbies in mind, or baskets filled with a mix of different kinds of actual useful things, cute things, candy, cookies etc. They’ll be very loving with you physically as well, and make sure you get all kisses you need and want.

Pile 3:

Your future spouse will enjoy spending some time alone with you to celebrate your birthday. They might take you on a cute, little date, like a picnic, going to the beach, or eating lunch on a boat trip, either way, something romantic and calm. They’ll prefer to give you tiny gifts that actually mean something to you; things you enjoy watching, doing, etc. supplies for your hobbies, or little practical things you’ve spoken about needing every once in a while.

They won’t mind having a party at your house with your friends and family, but they find spending quality-time with you something important, something that is needed to gain / keep a strong connection, that way you truly see their love and nothing from the outside is able to distract you from that.

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dixons-sunshine · 8 months ago

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Hazelnut | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl didn’t know exactly what he expected when his group settled into Alexandria—maybe some snobby, incompetent inhabitants who couldn’t stand their ground if something were to happen or people who would turn on him and his group at any given moment, but definitely not a little girl who basically attached herself to his hip. And he definitely didn’t expect to find himself drawn to the mother of that little girl.

Genre: Fluff, angst but not a lot.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour war. (Timeline is kinda wonky. Saviours kinda don’t exist in this? I don’t really know.)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, child abandonment, mental abuse, mentions of drugs and alcohol, single parenthood, sexual content but not smut.

Word count: 8.1k.

A/n: This was such a cute idea that @louifaith had! I tried my best, but it honestly sucks. I’m not really happy with how this turned out, but I hope you like it! Also, definitely go check out @celtic-crossbow’s version! Pure perfection, honestly.

“You have to lighten up, Daryl. How do you expect to make any friends with that ‘leave me alone’ attitude of yours?”

Daryl grumbled to himself as he continued tinkering with his crossbow. The hot late afternoon sun was relentlessly beating down on the community as its inhabitants continued about their tasks. Daryl had silently been observing everyone from the porch steps he was sitting on, enjoying the moment of solitude he had, but Carol had other ideas.

“Daryl,” Carol started, crossing her arms as she descended down the steps. She turned around to face Daryl, her voice stern. “It would do you good to socialize a bit.”

“I talked to Tobin when we finished up with the construction of the new walls yesterday,” Daryl replied nonchalantly, keeping his eyes focused on his crossbow instead of the stern woman in front of him.

“That doesn’t count. That’s work talk. I'm talking about actual socialising. Like, striking up a conversation with someone that isn’t in our group or someone you have to talk to for work.”

“I dun’ need to. Y’all are the only company I need. Ain’t gon’ waste my time tryna make buddies with people who dun’ even like me,” Daryl responded with a sense of finality, gripping his crossbow and getting up. “Now get off my back, woman.”

“Where are you going?” Carol called after him, watching the archer walk away from the house.

“Somewhere,” he replied shortly, ending the conversation effectively.

Slightly irritated, Daryl walked with no particular destination in mind. He passed by some people who sent him friendly greetings and small waves, which he returned half-heartedly. After a while of mindlessly walking about, Daryl stopped in front of a makeshift park of sorts. It was a small area surrounded by grass and had a big tree towards the edge. He moved to sit on the grass underneath the shade of the tree. The few kids in the community loved to play in this area, but it was deserted for now; the perfect place for the archer to relax for a while.

Daryl went about sharpening his knife for a while. The mediocre task kept his mind busy, busy enough to ignore the parents and kids who arrived, busy enough to ignore the wary stares the parents threw his way. Daryl simply shook his head—even after two months, there were still people who were wary of him and the rest of his group. Even after everything they did and sacrificed to ensure the community's safety.

“Mistah lonely?”

Startled, Daryl’s head shot up and his eyes locked with those of a little girl who looked no older than three years old. The girl looked at him with curiosity written all over her young face, eyeing the knife in the archer’s hands with wonder. She tentatively reached forward to touch the knife, her fingertips close to making contact with the cold metal of the dangerous weapon.

Daryl jerked the knife away and out of reach of the young girl. “Dun’ touch that,” he barked coldly, standing up to keep the knife out of the young girl’s reach.

“Sharp mife?” the girl questioned, moving closer towards the archer. She reached up to grab his arm, trying to reach the knife.

Daryl frowned at the girl. He gently pried his arm away from the girl’s grasp and took a step back, unnerved by the soft touch of the child’s hands. That didn't seem to deter the girl, however.

“Mistah use sharp mife?”

“Scram, kid. Go back to yer mama.”

“Mama?” the girl asked, her eyes lighting up at the mere mention of her mother. “Mama! Get Mama!”

“What? No, that ain’t—” Daryl started, but was abruptly cut off when the girl took off and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, wobbling more like a penguin than anything else. Daryl raised his eyebrows as he watched the girl’s retreating figure, confused by the interaction he just had.

Well, he thought, at least that’s the end of that. However, as Daryl gathered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, he inwardly groaned at the sound of the little girl’s voice calling out to him.

“Mistah! Mama here!”

Daryl turned and looked at two approaching figures. The young girl was holding a woman’s hand, leading the woman over to him. The woman was laughing lightly, allowing herself to be pulled by the little girl.

“Come, Mama!” the little girl giggled, excitedly tugging your hand harder.

“Okay, okay! No need to rip my hand off,” you laughed, soon coming to a stop in front of Daryl.

Daryl looked at you with a frown, scowling slightly. His eyes darted between the excited little girl and you, slightly taken aback by the friendliness you radiated. Despite everything he had done for the community up until that point, only a few select Alexandrians—mainly Aaron and Eric—didn’t show him any contempt or wariness. Yet there you were, smiling up at him and looking as pretty as a picture.

“Mama,” the little girl excitedly told him, pointing up to you. She smiled at you, dimples forming on her chubby cheeks.

Well, the kid certainly knew how to follow orders. He had told her to go get her mama, and there you were.

“I'm Y/N. You must be Daryl?” You introduced yourself, extending your hand for a handshake.

Daryl looked at your hand, not moving to take it. However, just as you were about to lower your hand awkwardly at his dismissal, the little girl stepped forward.

“Like this, mistah,” she instructed, taking the archer’s hand and putting it in yours.

Daryl flinched at the contact and quickly withdrew his hand, looking at the little girl with a small frown. He looked back at you, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

This was the worst random social situation he’d ever been in.

“Sorry,” you apologized, giving him a sheepish smile before turning back to your daughter. “Hazel, we don’t touch people unless they say we can, alright?”

“Sorry, Mama,” Hazel apologized half-heartedly, not fully understanding what you were saying. She turned back to look at Daryl. “Sorry, Dar.”

“Daryl,” the archer corrected her with a gruff tone of voice, talking for the first time since you had approached him.

Hazel looked up at him in confusion. “Dar,” she repeated herself, a look of concentration on her face.

“No, ‘s—nevermind. Forget it,” Daryl grumbled, shifting his weight from his one leg to the other. He looked back to you again and noticed how awkward you looked, your lips pursed as you avoided his eyes.

“Sorry. She has trouble with pronouncing some words and names. I’m working on helping her with that,” you explained, your body language exuding a challenging aura, as if daring him to insult your daughter for something as miniscule as not being able to pronounce a name.

Daryl noticed the defensive tone in your voice and noticed your defensive stature, making him raise his eyebrows questioningly, yet he refrained from questioning why. “S’alrigh’,” he mumbled, awkwardly fiddling with his crossbow that was slung over his shoulder.

“Okay,” you said, gathering Hazel up into your arms. “Well, it was nice meeting you, but I have to get going. I have to get this gremlin ready for dinner. Sorry for bothering you.”

With that, you turned around and retreated back towards the houses, Hazel happily babbling in your arms. Daryl watched your retreating figure with a sense of uneasiness. In that short interaction, he found himself unexplainably drawn to you. He didn't know you, but some part of him wanted to get to know you.

However, as quickly as that thought entered his mind, he just as quickly disregarded it. He didn’t need to get attached to any more people, especially people who couldn’t protect themselves in this harsh world they were forced to live in. In the end, everyone he cared about died or left, so it was better to spare himself the inevitable pain and keep you and your daughter at an arm’s length.

Something told him that it would be easier said than done, however.

The next morning, Daryl found himself working alongside Aaron. The two of them were busy carrying large pieces of metal to the wall they were busy fortifying, Aaron making casual small talk while Daryl simply hummed in acknowledgement. Once the last piece of metal was added to the already existing pile, the two men wiped the sweat from their foreheads and took a drink of water, before walking over to Aaron’s house. Aaron took a seat on the porch steps while Daryl remained standing on the grass.

“So yeah, that’s how I met Eric,” Aaron told him, concluding his long and winded tale.

“Story straight out a damn romance novel,” Daryl replied sarcastically, eliciting a laugh from Aaron.

“Yeah, yeah. Make fun of it all you want. Everyone always does.”

“Nah, s’a good story. Pretty cliche with the whole spillin’ yer coffee on his shirt bit, but s’still a good story,” Daryl reassured him. “Now c’mon, didn’t ya say somethin’ ‘bout havin’ a part for my bike?”

“Dar!”

As if materializing out of thin air, Hazel excitedly bounded down the porch steps of Aaron’s home and threw herself against Daryl, clinging to his leg in a hug. Caught off guard, Daryl stumbled a bit but quickly regained his footing, his eyes darting down to look at Hazel. His eyebrows raised in surprise before he gently pried the girl from his legs, not used to any kid other than his little Asskicker clinging to him like that.

“Kid, what are ya doin’?” he questioned, taking a step back from her, but it was to no avail. Hazel simply smiled up at him before throwing herself at him again, clinging to his leg like a koala bear.

Aaron chuckled. “I see you’ve met Hazel. She’s quite the character, huh?”

“What’s she even doin’ here?”

“Eric asked to babysit her. He loves having her over, and her mom said yes.”

Hazel giggled against Daryl’s leg, turning her head to look at Aaron. “Hi, Rin!”

“Hey, Hazel,” Aaron chuckled fondly, sending the girl a small wave.

“Rin?” Daryl questioned, placing one of his big hands on the little girl’s head, accepting his fate of being clung to for the time being.

“She can’t say my name properly,” Aaron explained. “She has trouble with pronouncing things sometimes.”

“Yeah, her mama said somethin’ ‘bout that,” Daryl said without really thinking about it.

“So you’ve met her?” Aaron asked, leaning forward with slight interest. He had a small smirk on his face, one that Daryl couldn’t quite decipher.

“Briefly. Hazel practically dragged her over to meet me yesterday,” Daryl replied, looking down at Hazel when he felt her grip loosen on his leg.

Hazel looked up at him and raised her arms, looking at him expectantly. “Upsies,” she said, jumping slightly on her toes. “Dar, upsies!”

To his complete and utter surprise, Daryl found himself leaning down to pick her up. The act hadn’t even fully registered in his brain until the small girl was already in his arms, her small, chubby hands gripping at his shirt as she giggled. The small sound of her laughter made the archer’s heart fill with a sudden and unexpected fondness, completely taking him by surprise. It was the same type of fondness that filled his heart whenever he coaxed a laugh from little Judith, and yet it was completely different at the same time. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“She seems to like you, Daryl,” Aaron laughed, standing up from his position on the porch steps. “Not a lot of people can say that about her.”

“What do ya mean?” Daryl found himself questioning, confused entirely by the man’s revelation. From the limited interactions that the archer has had with the young girl up until that point, he naturally assumed that Hazel was that way with everyone. What would make him special enough to the little girl, who had just met him, to make her treat him differently than she would others?

Aaron motioned for Daryl to follow him into the house, and he obliged, silently entering the pristine house while still carrying Hazel in his arms. The girl took a great interest in his hair, playing with it to entertain herself.

“From what Y/N told us, she was with a group before she got here who treated her and Hazel horribly, and Hazel hasn’t fully regained her trust in adults yet,” Aaron explained.

Daryl frowned. “Badly, how?”

“She wouldn’t say, but it took forever for Eric and I to gain Hazel’s trust. We even tried to bribe her with candy but she wouldn’t budge. But she seems to trust you and you said you only met her yesterday?”

“Yeah. She approached me at that makeshift park the kids play at,” Daryl nodded, rubbing a hand over Hazel’s small back subconsciously, shifting her in his arms slightly.

“Then you’re definitely special, buddy. This kid doesn’t trust easily,” Aaron declared, sitting down on a chair in the dining room.

Daryl followed his lead, taking a seat across from him on a chair while still holding the small girl firmly in his arms. Hazel’s attention shifted from his hair to the loose threads on his sleeveless shirt, playing with them to keep herself occupied.

“They were with a group ‘fore this? How long have they been here?” Daryl questioned, interested in knowing more about you, although he didn’t know why.

“Yeah. Hazel and her mom haven’t been here all that long. I actually found them a couple of days, maybe a week, before I found you all. From what I know, Y/N and Hazel had been on their own for a while before I found them. Y/N almost killed me the first time we met. She thought I was gonna hurt them. It took me and Eric a while to convince her to come back with us, but even then she refused to let her guard down. She was kind of like Rick when we first met, except she didn't tie me up or force me to eat apple sauce.”

Daryl hummed, hissing slightly when he felt Hazel tug at his hair rather harshly. He brought one of his hands up to pry her hand away from his hair, subconsciously rubbing his thumb over her small fist. “That hurts,” he told her softly, surprising himself by the gentleness of his usually gruff voice.

“Sorry, Dar,” Hazel apologized half-heartedly. She yawned before laying her head down on his shoulder. She wrapped her small arms around his neck, nuzzling her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

Daryl felt his heart swell with fondness for the second time that day. He gently rubbed her back. From his experience with Judith, that small action could lull a small child into slumber, and he hoped that proved to be correct with Hazel.

“You’re good at that,” Aaron commented, a smile on his face as he watched that small interaction between the big, ‘scary’ man and the small, innocent child.

Daryl looked at him, confused by the look the man was sending him. “Good at what?” he inquired, genuinely curious.

“That,” Aaron repeated himself, motioning to Hazel. “Were you a dad before all of this?”

Daryl stiffened at the question. “Nah,” he shook his head, adjusting Hazel in his arms again. “Not the type’a guy who could’ve started a family back then.”

“And now?” Aaron asked, unaware of Daryl’s inner turmoil.

Daryl inhaled sharply. “To start a family, ya need a partner,” Daryl started, slightly rocking the small girl in his arms. “I ain’t got a partner, and there ain’t exactly women linin’ up to be with me, so kids ain’t somethin’ I see in my future.”

“It could still happen, you know? You might meet someone. Hell, you know what? I know you’ll meet someone.”

“A lot of confidence for somethin’ that most likely won’t ever happen,” Daryl grumbled.

“Never say never, Daryl,” Aaron replied, giving the man a small smirk. “Never say never.”

“Mama! Mama!” Hazel called through the house, excitement evident in her voice.

You smiled at the sound of your daughter’s voice, glad to be able to see her again after a whole day of being alone in your small house. The sun was setting, the stars starting to twinkle in the sky and you were almost done with dinner. Eric had told you that he would bring Hazel back before sunset and you were starting to get worried, but thankfully she seemed to be okay.

You walked into the living room and hunched down to pick up the small girl that ran into your arms, hugging her tightly to you as you placed kisses all over her face. She giggled at the sensation and pulled back, grabbing your hand and excitedly pointing towards the door.

“Mama, Dar here,” she said, smiling widely before turning towards the door.

You followed her line of sight and locked eyes with the archer. You stood up and gave him an awkward smile, painfully aware of the awkward encounter you had with the man the day before. Daryl seemed to mirror your unease; he nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other, ducking his head to avoid your gaze.

“I see that, Sweetheart,” you replied, keeping your eyes locked on the man before you.

“I played with Rin and Eric. Dar played too!” Hazel happily exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement as she looked up at Daryl in awe.

“Did he, now?” you asked rhetorically, marvelling at the sudden and unexpected change of character for the quiet man. Just the day before, he had shrugged Hazel off and seemed to want nothing to do with her, yet now your daughter was claiming that the huntsman had spent time with her that day. It didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

“Yeah! So fun!” Hazel laughed happily, waddling over to Daryl to seemingly hug his leg again.

Daryl, who had been hugged multiple times by the toddler that day, instinctively crouched down to have her hug his side instead of his leg. Hazel wrapped her small arms around him and nuzzled her head into his neck, and Daryl couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face. One day had been more than enough for him to grow fond of the small girl, and he cursed himself for letting his guard down enough for that to happen, but the damage was already done; that little girl had already wormed her way into his heart.

“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself,” you smiled at her, watching the interaction between the archer and your baby girl. “Baby, why don't you go get changed into your blue PJ’s, huh? You're a big girl now, right? Think you can get changed without Mama’s help?”

“Yeah!” she exclaimed happily, pulling away from the hug and giving Daryl a smile, dimples on full display. “Bye, Dar!”

“Bye, Hazel,” Daryl greeted her quietly, watching the girl waddle to the stairs and begin to climb them carefully. He then hesitantly shifted his attention to you, but instead of seeing that wariness he’d grown accustomed to other parents giving him, one that he expected you to give him after his encounter with you the day before, there was a look of curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

“Thanks for bringing her home,” you thanked him, offering the archer a small smile.

Daryl ducked his head. “Ain’t nothin’,” he replied, shaking his head.

“So, you spent the day with her?” you started, looking at him questioningly. “By the way you looked uncomfortable around her yesterday, I figured you’d avoid her at all costs.”

“I was spendin’ the day helpin’ Aaron. He invited me to his place ‘cause he had a part I needed for my bike and Hazel was there. She wouldn’t let go of me after she saw me,” Daryl explained, fiddling with his hands.

“So she basically forced you into spending time with her?” you asked with a small laugh, your eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Pretty much,” Daryl joked, his lips involuntarily twitching into a small smile.

You laughed lightly and Daryl chuckled softly, admiring the way your eyes seemingly sparkled. The dim light of the living room gave you a golden glow, and Daryl found himself admiring your beauty. The unnerving thought struck him at full force and he tried to shake that thought from his mind—he couldn’t let his mind go there. He wouldn’t let his mind go there. He had to keep you at an arm’s length. It was bad enough that Hazel had broke through his barrier in one measly day, so he couldn’t allow her mom to do the same, too. More attachments definitely wasn’t something the archer needed.

“Well, Hazel seems happy. I think you’ve just became her best friend, whether you like it or not,” you told him playfully.

“I have a feeling that I ain’t got much say in the matter.

“Nope,” you laughed. “But thank you. She hasn’t looked that happy in a long time.”

“Glad I could help,” Daryl replied, a small smile on his face. “Sorry for bein’ a dick yesterday.”

“It’s fine. We shouldn't have bothered you.”

“Ya weren’t botherin’ me. I jus’... Weren’t in a good mood, s’all. M’sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” You gave him a sweet smile before turning around. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Daryl frowned in confusion but didn’t say anything. A few minutes passed until you reentered the living room, a lunchbox in your hand. You promptly handed it to him, and Daryl could feel the heat radiating off the bottom.

“What’s this?” he asked, giving you a questioning look.

“Stew. I made more than Hazel and I can finish, so I figured I’d give you some. And before you say anything, just take it. Consider it a thank you gift.”

Daryl pursed his lips but nodded, resisting the urge to deny your ‘gift’. “Thanks.”

“No problem at all,” you reassured him, looking up at him with a smile that made his heart flutter uncontrollably.

Daryl ducked his head, willing the blush on his face to go away. “I should get goin’,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“I’ll walk you out,” you replied, making good of your promise by walking with him over to the door.

Daryl stepped out of your home and turned to you. He gave you a nod and turned to walk away, but stopped when he heard you speak up.

“I hope you realize that she isn’t gonna let you off the hook. You’re going to be stuck with her now. And my daughter and I are a package deal, so you’re going to be stuck with me, too.”

For some unknown reason, Daryl didn’t mind that thought at all.

“Easy, Hazelnut. Ya dun’ wanna hurt yerself, do ya?”

The toddler giggled, her small hands toying with the arrow in her hands. “Sorry, Dar.”

Daryl smiled at the small girl, bringing one of his hands up to ruffle her hair, successfully coaxing another laugh from her. “I know ya are. Jus’ try to be more careful, alright? I dun’ want ya gettin’ hurt.”

“No boo-boos. Boo-boos hurt,” Hazel replied, gingerly handing the arrow back to the archer.

“They do,” Daryl agreed, taking the arrow from the girl. “That’s why ya gotta be careful, alright? Dun’ want anythin’ to happen to someone as sweet as ya, Hazelnut.”

Hazel giggled and nodded. “No boo-boos.”

“No boo-boos,” Daryl repeated, smiling fondly at the young girl.

Two months had passed since Daryl had initially met you and Hazel. In those two months, Daryl had found himself becoming intertwined with your lives, a constant presence for you and your daughter.

The archer hadn’t asked you what had happened to Hazel’s father yet, and he wondered when he could be permitted to ask something as personal as that. However, Daryl knew that there could only be two plausible explanations; either he was dead, or he willingly left. The huntsman really hoped it wasn’t the latter. No person should be left to raise a kid on their own.

However, as Daryl’s love for the young girl grew, so did his feelings for you. It got to the point where he had started wishing that he was Hazel’s dad, that he could’ve been there during your pregnancy and watched your belly grow. He would’ve worshipped your body and been there for you every step of the way. However, as much as he wanted that, that was a dream that couldn’t be a reality, so he settled on being Hazel's best friend instead. At least it meant being able to both bond with the little girl and simultaneously have an excuse to see you.

“The two of you look like you’re having fun. Mind if I join?”

Daryl’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. His eyes met yours and his heart skipped a beat, that sweet smile of yours making butterflies swarm around in his stomach.

“Mama!” Hazel exclaimed happily, hurrying down the porch steps to fling herself into your arms.

You laughed, picking her up and placing a kiss on her forehead. You looked at Daryl and sent him a smile. “Hey, Daryl.”

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly, fiddling with the arrow in his hands.

“Mama, play with us!” Hazel giggled, wiggling in your arms to be put down.

You lowered her to the ground, watching her climb up the porch steps and clamber into Daryl’s lap. Daryl lowered the arrow and wrapped his arms around her, placing a small kiss to the side of her head. You smiled at the interaction, your heart speeding up against your will.

“I know what I just said, but I actually can’t, Baby. It’s time to go home. It’s dinner time,” you told her.

Hazel frowned and nuzzled her head into Daryl’s neck, a whimper building up in her throat. Instinctively, Daryl started rocking her back and forth, rubbing her small back and shushing her quietly.

“S’alright, dun’ cry. Ya will see me again tomorrow, alright?” he whispered into her ear, his heart breaking at the sound of her sniffles. When he felt her nod, he placed one final kiss to the side of her head before placing her back down. “Why dun’ ya go say bye to Jude?”

Hazel looked at you expectantly, and you nodded. “Go ahead, Baby. I’ll wait for you.”

Hazel ran into the house, leaving you and Daryl alone on the porch. The archer stood up and walked down to meet you on the grass, pushing his hands into his pockets as he looked at you through his hair. As you looked at him, it took all of your willpower to resist the urge to brush his hair out of his face and cup his cheek. Not trusting your own hands, you crossed your arms and looked up at the huntsman, giving him a small smile.

“This is the first time ya’ve come to pick her up. I usually bring her home. S’somethin’ wrong?” Daryl inquired, searching your eyes for an answer.

You shook your head. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just figured that I could come pick her up for a change. Spare you the walk back to my place.”

“It ain’t that far,” Daryl pointed out, motioning down the street. “Jus’ a couple’a houses down.”

“Yeah, I know, but...” you trailed off, unsure if you should lay your problems onto him.

“But what?” he questioned, suddenly on edge. Had you changed your mind about him? About him being around you and your daughter? He really hoped not.

You hesitated for a moment. “It’s nothing. Just some moms around the community who like to be judgy.”

“What are they sayin’?”

“That I'm a bad mom for not taking the time out of my day to pick up my own daughter. That I’m dumping my responsibilities onto other people. Just thought I’d start proving them wrong.”

“Hey, yer not a bad mom. I like bringin’ Hazel home at the end of the day. That way I know she’s safe.” He also liked it because it meant he got to see you being all domestic, hugging your daughter tightly and sending him beautiful smiles, inviting him to stay for dinner each time. He always declined, not wanting to be a burden, but your offer never waned.

You smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Daryl instantly noticed it and placed one of his hands on your shoulder, taking you by surprise. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and your skin flushed where he touched you.

“Dun’ let ‘em convince ya that yer a bad mom. I ain’t never seen a better mom than ya. How many moms here can say that they kept their kid alive out there in the real world? That, despite everythin’, their kid came first and that they would kill for them?”

“How did you know I wasn’t here from the start?”

“Aaron told me he that found ya and Hazel on yer own not too long before he found us. The fact that ya kept her alive on yer own for that long proves to me that yer the best fuckin’ mom under the sun.”

You smiled at him and placed your hand over his that was still resting on your shoulder. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“No problem,” he replied, holding eye contact with you. His hand lingered on your shoulder for longer than necessary, and he gazed deep into your eyes.

Your heart sped up and stopped beating at the same time, noticing a shift in the archer’s emotions. However, before either of you could do anything else, Daryl snapped out of it and withdrew his hand, taking a step back.

You cleared your throat and ducked your head, your face heating up. Luckily, Hazel ran out at that moment and bounded down the stairs, throwing herself into Daryl’s side and clinging to his leg.

“Bye, Dar!”

Daryl pressed Hazel tightly to him. “Bye, Hazelnut.”

Hazel unwound her arms from around him and moved over to you, extending her arms to be picked up. You did just that, holding her tightly to you. You turned to Daryl and offered him a small smile.

“You know, my offer still stands. You could join us for dinner.”

Daryl was about to decline your offer again, but Hazel cut him off.

“Yes! Please, Dar!”

In that moment, Daryl found that he wouldn’t be able to say no this time around. He just would’t be able to. He gave you both a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

You smiled broadly. “Great! Come on, then.”

“Dun’ I need to change?”

“No, you’re fine, don’t worry. You can come as is.”

“Alright,” Daryl nodded. “Let’s go.”

“Could you maybe get Hazel settled into her highchair? I’ll be right out with the food.”

Daryl nodded and watched you retreat from the dining room into the kitchen before turning around. “Hazelnut!” he called, hearing the toddler’s footsteps come into the dining room.

Hazel stared up at the archer with a huge smile, her arms extended to be picked up. Daryl smiled softly at the girl and leaned down to pick her up, placing her in her highchair. Once he was sure that she was settled and wouldn’t fall out, he got settled in the chair next to her, listening to Hazel’s happy babbling.

Soon enough, you reentered the dining room with a pot of spaghetti and meatballs. The aroma of the meal made Daryl’s mouth practically water. The last time he’d eaten spaghetti was when Aaron had invited him, and that was a good couple of months ago at that point.

“It smells fuckin’ good,” Daryl complimented you without really thinking about his choice of words, and he instantly regretted not thinking about them beforehand.

“Fuck,” Hazel repeated happily, completely oblivious to the horrified look that spread over Daryl’s face, or the amused one that spread over yours.

“Nah, Hazelnut, dun’ say that. Dun’ ever say that,” he told her hurriedly, his heart beating faster at his mistake.

“Fuck,” Hazel giggled.

“No, I jus’ said—” Daryl started, shooting you a worried look. However, he calmed down when he saw your amused smile. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” you told him, laughing lightly while serving everyone some food. “Don’t look so worried. I’m not gonna bite your head off because of one little slip up. If I had a penny for every time I accidentally slipped up since she was born, I would’ve had enough money to be able to buy a yacht in the old world. You’re good, don’t worry.

“Okay, but we can’t have her goin’ ‘round sayin’ that, though,” Daryl replied, taking a deep breath to calm himself. You weren’t mad. Everything was fine.

“You’re right about that,” you started, turning to look at Hazel. “Baby, you can’t say fuck, okay? That word belongs to Daryl. Until he’s ready to share that word, you can’t say it, alright?”

“Okay, Mama,” Hazel replied, starting to eat her food rather messily.

Daryl chuckled softly at the girl before turning to his own food. He started eating as well, the flavours of the delicious meal melting on his tongue. He wanted to gulp it all down but he resisted the urge, instead eating with a delicacy he never knew existed in him.

The meal was mostly spent in silence, save for Hazel’s happy babbling and the occasional input from you or Daryl. Daryl did, however, sneak glances at you when you weren’t looking, admiring your beauty and the soft, loving, tender way you acknowledged your daughter and the tenderness you used when you wiped her face clean of the sauce.

Unbeknownst to the archer, you had also been sneaking glances at him. Admiring his gentleness with your daughter, the way his eyes softened and the quiet chuckles he would let out whenever Hazel did something amusing, or the small smiles he would send in your direction. It was amazing how important Daryl had become to you and Hazel in a span of a few months. The big, gruff, quiet man with a heart of gold, who had invaded your thoughts and your heart. It was both terrifying and thrilling to think about.

Your respective meals were soon finished. and Hazel’s eyes were beginning to droop. You noticed it and got up to take her out of her highchair. She instantly laid her head down onto your shoulder and closed her eyes, and you placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

“You tired, Baby?” you cooed, rubbing her back gently. When she simply responded by nuzzling her face deeper into your shoulder, you laughed fondly and turned to Daryl, sending him an apologetic look. “Sorry, I should probably get this little rascal to bed. You can stay here. I’ll be right back.”

However, as soon as you said that, Hazel interjected. “Dar tuck me in with Mama?” she asked innocently, lifting her head up to look at Daryl.

Daryl looked surprised. He locked eyes with you, his heart fluttering at the smile you sent him.

“If Daryl’s okay with it,” you whispered, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Daryl replied, nodding his head.

You motioned for him to follow you upstairs, and he obliged. Together, the two of you descended up the stairs and into Hazel’s bedroom. Daryl stopped in the doorway, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, but you had other ideas. You gently took his hand and led him into the room, only letting go of it to tuck your daughter into bed. Daryl subconsciously placed his hand on your shoulder instead, watching place your little girl into bed.

Hazel was already half asleep when you put her into her bed. She instantly curled up into her pillow and let out a big sigh, her eyes opening only slightly. In her view, she saw you, her mom, the woman who always protected her when the two of you were living on the road outside the walls, and always loved her despite her shenanigans. And Daryl, the man who at first had been kind of mean, but was now always there for both her and her mom. The man who undeniably had started to feel like a daddy to her.

“Night, Mama. Night, Daddy,” Hazel mumbled, her eyes closing and she drifted into slumber. In seconds, she was out cold.

Time froze for a moment. Daryl’s eyes widened and his heart practically pounded out of his chest. There was no way that he had heard it right. There was no way that Hazel had just called him dad. There was no way that Hazel trusted and loved him enough to see him as her father. She couldn’t, could she?

He turned to look at you and noticed the unreadable expression on your face. You didn’t address what she had just said, however, and Daryl was too nervous to bring it up himself.

“We should probably let her sleep,” you whispered to him, motioning towards the door.

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed and followed you out the door.

Together, the two of you descended down the stairs and back into the dining room. You turned to look at Daryl and motioned towards the living room.

“You can wait in the living room. I just wanna put the dishes in the sink and then I’ll join you.”

“Nah, let me help,” Daryl protested, moving over to grab all the dishes. Before you could protest, Daryl walked into the kitchen. You quickly followed behind him and watched him put the dishes in the sink, but before he could start washing them, you quickly stopped him.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll wash them tomorrow,” you assured him. “Do you want some wine?”

Daryl nodded and hummed, silently observing as you grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, as well as a bottle of wine. You placed the glasses on the counter before popping the the bottle open, pouring the two of you each a glass of wine. You handed him the glass and propped yourself onto the counter, letting your legs swing below you.

Daryl leaned against the counter and took a sip of his wine, humming in approval at the taste. “S’good. Thanks.”

“It’s nothing, really. I've been wanting a reason to open the bottle for a while now.”

“Ya can’t jus’ drink it whenever ya want?” Daryl questioned, taking another sip from the glass in his hand.

“I could, but I prefer not to. I don’t want to be like—” you started, but abruptly stopped. You hurriedly took a sip of your wine, welcoming the taste in your mouth.

“Like who?” Daryl asked, frowning at the uncomfortable look on your face.

You hesitated for a long moment, not sure if you should tell Daryl about your past problems. You were afraid that Daryl would look at you differently if you revealed anything. However, as you looked into his eyes, you only saw care and concern, so you found yourself confiding in him.

“Hazel’s father,” you revealed, pursing your lips at the thought of the man you hated more than anything in the world.

“What was he like?” Daryl asked, placing his glass down on the counter. He turned his full attention to you, his eyes trailing over your face for any shift in emotion.

“He was a fucking asshole,” you spat angrily, clenching your jaw in anger. “He was a raging alcoholic and a frequent drug user. He didn’t even stop when Hazel was born. If anything, it got worse. I tried so hard to get him sober, but nothing worked. He always yelled at me and threatened to hurt Hazel whenever I brought it up, but I stayed. I was too scared to leave. And then one day, when I woke up, he was just... Gone. No note, no phone call, nothing. Hazel was barely one year old.”

Daryl frowned deeply, anger bubbling inside him at the thought of someone hurting you and Hazel so badly. He clenched his fist and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He had no right to get angry. That wasn’t something that happened to him.

“Not too long after that, the world went to shit. His sister came to pick us up and took us to her camp, and that’s where I saw that asshole again. He treated Hazel so badly and got the other people in the camp to taunt and be mean to her. Hazel didn’t even do anything wrong, and I never even brought up the fact that she was his kid, but they all ganged up on her. Thankfully it never got physical, but I could tell that it really scarred her. It went on until the camp got overrun, and all of those fuckers got what they deserved. The only reason Hazel and I got out was because his sister helped us. She sacrificed herself for us. After that, Hazel and I were on our own for more than a year. I’m surprised that I managed to keep us alive for that long on my own, but I managed. And then Aaron and Eric found us, and the rest is history.”

Daryl was speechless. It angered him that someone would hurt you like that, would hurt little Hazel like that. And the fact that you had to survive on your own for that long... It amazed him. He wished that he could’ve found you earlier and have protected you and Hazel from all those horrors, but there was nothing he could do to change the past. He could only ensure that nothing ever touched you in the future.

“Yer a strong woman. The fact that ya went through all’a that and managed to keep Hazel alive and love her unconditionally proves that. Yer amazing and I hope ya know that.”

You were taken aback by the sudden confession, but a smile soon spread across your face. You hopped off the counter and stood in front of him, almost chest to chest. You looked up at him, your faces close enough to close the remaining distance between your lips. You didn’t even fully know why you did that. It was more than likely liquid courage, you figured.

“You’re amazing too. I don’t think you realize how much you mean to Hazel, how much you mean to me.”

With that, you closed the remaining distance between your lips. You pressed your lips against his softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. After a moment of shock, Daryl kissed you back feverishly, pulling you closer by your hips to have you flush against his body. You gasped against his lips, allowing Daryl to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into his mouth and pressed yourself harder against him, eliciting a groan from the man.

As soon as you pulled away for air, you tugged Daryl by the lapel of his vest. “Wanna take this to my room?” you whispered, breathless from the ravenous kiss.

“What ‘bout Hazelnut? Won’t she wake up?” Daryl asked, pressing his forehead against yours.

“No. She’s out cold. The chances of her waking up are basically nonexistent.”

Daryl let out a deep breath and nodded, allowing you to pull him up the stairs. The two of you soon stumbled into your room, hurriedly closing the door and pawing at each other’s clothes. However, when you reached for Daryl’s shirt, he stopped you, a pained look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, a worried look on your face. “Did I do something wrong?”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah, ya didn’t do nothin’.”

“Then what’s wrong?” you asked him, gently cupping his cheek in your hand. “Talk to me. I promise I won’t judge.”

Daryl inhaled sharply. “I didn’t have a good childhood,” was all he offered before slowly removing his shirt.

Your eyes hungrily trailed over his body, your hands reaching forward to press against his chest. Sure, a few scars littered his chest, but they didn’t repulse you. You didn’t understand what Daryl was talking about until you got a glimpse of his back in the mirror in your room. The scars on his back were jagged and raised, and you instantly knew what they meant; someone had hurt this perfect man before you, and you felt so angry.

You walked behind him. “May I?” you whispered, your hands hovering over his back.

Daryl hesitantly nodded. You softly ran your fingers over his scars, your touch feathery light. The archer shivered involuntarily, closing his eyes at the feeling. Before meeting you, the only feeling that he ever associated with his back was pain from his father’s cruelty, yet there you were, tracing over his scars as if they were priceless paintings in a museum.

Soon your fingers were replaced with your lips, and Daryl’s eyes flew open. Your lips softly kissed over his scars, trailing down to the lowest scars on his lower back. When you were done, you turned him around to face you. You gently cupped his cheek, a small smile on your face.

“You're perfect to me, Daryl. You’re so sweet, kind and caring. Hell, my daughter called you dad. That says plenty.”

“M’perfect?”

“You're perfect.”

That was all you had to say for Daryl to pull you into another fiery kiss. The two of you soon toppled onto your bed, spending a night filled with passion together.

That next morning when Hazel woke up and walked into your room, she was pleasantly surprised to find Daryl sleeping there, holding you, her mama. She was, however, confused that when she woke the two of you up, you clutched the sheets to your bodies and refused to let her climb under them with you like you normally would do.

Two years later...

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Hazel. Happy birthday to you!”

You and Daryl cheered as Hazel blew out the candles on her homemade cake. Hazel laughed as she struggled to blow out the last one of the five candles on the cake, eliciting soft chuckles from you and Daryl. When she finally managed to extinguish it, you and Daryl each handed her a gift. She clapped her hands excitedly. She got up from her seat and ran to hug you and Daryl, which you both returned.

“Thank you, Mama. Thank you, Daddy,” she thanked with a big smile, eyeing the wrapped gifts on the table.

“Dun’ thank us yet, Hazelnut,” Daryl responded with a smile. “Go ahead and open ‘em.”

Hazel hurriedly opened each of the gifts and gasped with delight, holding up a colouring book, new crayons, and a new doll. She giggled in excitement at the gifts. “Can I go show these to Judith? We can colour and play dolls together now!”

You laughed and nodded. “Sure, Baby. Just be good for Auntie Michonne and Uncle Rick, okay?”

“Okay!” she agreed and took off in a run, throwing the front door open and disappearing out of it.

“I can’t believe she’s growin’ up so fast,” Daryl mumbled, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I know, right? She’ll be moving away from home for college soon enough,” you joked.

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed, chuckling at your joke.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, turning around in the archer's arms. “I got something for you, too.”

“For me?” he asked in confusion, frowning slightly. “Why? It ain’t my birthday for another couple’a months.”

“I know, but this can’t wait that long. Here,” you told him, handing him a small box.

Daryl gingerly took the box from your hands and opened it. His eyes widened at the item inside, picking it up and looking at it. After examining it for a couple of moments, he confirmed that his mind indeed wasn’t playing a trick on him—it was a positive pregnancy test.

“Yer—Yer pregnant?” he asked, a smile spreading over his face.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, nodding your head. A laugh escaped you when Daryl picked you up and spun you around, before he placed you back on the ground and pulled you into a kiss.

When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead against yours. “Hazelnut’s gon’ have a baby sibling. We’re gon’ have another kid.”

“We are,” you agreed, closing your eyes. “I love you, Daryl.”

Daryl placed a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I love ya, too. And I already love that lil’ peanut in yer belly.”

“Hazelnut and Peanut, huh?”

“Yeah. Our two babies. Our own lil’ family,” Daryl told you wistfully, placing his hand on your stomach, over the life that was growing there.

“We have Hazel to thank for this. If she didn’t instantly like you back then, this might never have happened,” you told him, placing your hand over his.

“Remind me to thank her when she gets back later. But for now, let’s enjoy our alone time,” Daryl replied suggestively, tugging you with him as he walked backwards towards the stairs.

“I like that idea.”

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hottiesforhockey · 6 days ago

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mutual pining ⎜n.hischier

pairings: nico hischier x afab!midsized!reader genre: romance ⎜fuff ⎜ slow burn? ⎜ warnings: pure cuteness ⎜ nico is literally so sweet ⎜ p in v ⎜ body worship?⎜ slight overstimulation ⎜oral (f receiving) ⎜fingering ⎜ nico is a giver ⎜ reader goes by bee (its a nickname)⎜midsized!reader ⎜ reader is a little insecure sometimes ⎜ mentions of previous shitty ex ⎜ sad nico? ⎜confused reader constantly⎜ apologies in advance for the ending ⎜ synopsis: your sister convinces you to tag along on her trip to Switzerland to visit her long distance boyfriend - you didn't expect his younger brother to be there let alone just your type. word count: 12.6k authors note: this is my first nico story ever and it's a doozy! it was the clear winner of my poll so I hope those of you who voted will enjoy! also just incase you didn't see in the warnings but the reader will go by the nickname bee!(barely) but I tried to keep her descriptions to a minimum

(unedited)

“He said he would be waiting at the baggage claim for us.” You sister says as she glances down at her phone, confirming her statement with the message her boyfriend had sent earlier.

“I still don’t know how you ended up in a long distance relationship with a professional athlete.” You retort, pulling your backpack higher on your shoulders before adding, “Just kind of a wild situation, you know.” You sister just nods in agreement, having stated herself how strange the relationship had come about.

“What can I say? I must just be that addictive.” She coos, at you, her face lighting up as the doors to the baggage claim slide open. She leaves you in the dust as she rushes forwards dropping her bag before leaping into the arms of her admittedly much larger boyfriend, who looks equally as excited to see her - whispering in her ear as she digs her face into his shoulder.

Your sister had met the Swiss Hockey Player while on a short vacation around Europe stopping in Switzerland for about a week before planning to move on to Italy - she had called you the night she met the large Swiss man already head over heels for the charming brunette after one, slightly tipsy, night together.

And as it stands the large Swiss man was equally as obsessed with her - the two immediately starting a long distance relationship after spending another week together in Italy, where he had followed her refusing to let their time together finish so soon.

Judging by the goo goo eyes they are already making at each other it was going to be a long three weeks.

“Hurry up.” You sister shouts as you dawdle over to the couple, trying to give them some time out of earshot to greet each other properly. “Luca, this is my little sister, Bee.” You sister introduces you quickly, Luca turning to you with a beaming smile, and a friendly hand extended.

“Nice to meet you, Luca.” You say quietly as you join your hands giving it a firm shake before letting your hand fall back to your side. “Sorry I’m not as energetic as Mia but it’s been a long trip.” You laugh softly, pushing some loose hair off your forehead before shooting your sister a look.

“Oh yes, we better get you two back to the house.” Luca says quickly, his hand firm on your sisters waist as he guides her to the baggage carousel. “Just let us know which bags are yours.” Luca says quietly, leaning over your sister to make sure you heard him.

“Us?” You question in confusion.

“My little brother Nico is staying with us too.” Luca notes casually, your eyes shooting over to your sister who’s already mouthing a silent apology. When you had agreed to come on this trip, your sister had promised it would mainly be you and her and the beautiful summer mountains of Switzerland - it wasn’t until two days ago that she informed you, you would be staying with her boyfriend.

You had no issues with your sister wanting to spend some time with her boyfriend who she hadn’t seen in months but the idea of forced socialisation was not high on your vacation wishlist - and now another stranger would be thrown into the mix. “Suck it up.” Your sister hisses through her teeth as she leans towards you. “Nico is really nice, I think you two will get along.” She adds, motioning her head to the broad brunette now standing besides her boyfriend.

“Nico this is Mia’s little sister, the one I was telling you about.” Luca says quickly, his hand guiding his brothers attention in your direction. You don’t miss the pointed look Luca gives his brother, his reminder obviously sparking something inside Nico who quickly turns his full attention to you - his big brown eyes stealing every thought you’d ever had in your life.

You give Nico a quick nod of acknowledgment before spotting your baby blue suitcase coming around the corner, avoiding anymore stunted silence by moving forwards to grab hold of it. “Here, let me get that for you.” Nico says softly as he follows behind you, grabbing hold of the suitcase before you can, pulling it off the carousel with ease. “Which one is your sisters?” He asks, not looking away from the baggage as you point out the soft pink suitcase following closely behind yours.

Nico does the same for your sister’s bag, gently pulling it from the track and setting it beside yours. As you reach out to take your suitcase back, Nico pulls it just out of reach, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’ve got it. Don’t worry.” He says with a playful grin. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, right?”

You can’t help but smile at the teasing tone, though inwardly, you curse your body’s reaction to men you barely know. “I guess so,” you reply, trying to sound casual as you meet his gaze.

Luca and Mia are already a few steps ahead, engaged in a quiet conversation. Nico is right beside you now, still holding your suitcase with an effortless air, as though it’s no more than a feather in his large hands.

“So,” you start, trying to fill the awkward space with something, “What’s it like being a professional hockey player?” The question feels a bit dull, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. You remember your sister mentioning how despite Luca being a professional Swiss hockey player the families true pride was in the youngest, Nico, being selected to play in the NHL.

“It’s not all glitz and glamour,” Nico replies with a casual shrug, his voice easy and unbothered. “Early mornings, long practices, and constant travel. It’s hard being away from home, but hockey’s my life. I wouldn’t trade it.”

You nod, impressed by how down-to-earth he is despite his career. It’s a side of athletes you don’t often see on TV.

“That sounds… challenging.”

“Yeah, but the game is worth it,” he says, glancing over at you with a quiet smile. “Plus, there’s always Bern to come back to. The city’s never too far from my mind.” You both walk out into the warm Bern summer afternoon, the sun still high in the sky, the city alive with activity. Luca locates the car quickly - ushering your sister into the passenger seat as he pulls the trunk open, helping his younger brother lift both suitcases inside before shutting it, sliding into the drivers side besides your sister.

Nico’s eyes flicker to you again, his smile widening. “Ladies first.” He comments as he opens the back door for you, watching as you slide into the seat, shuffling across to the far side of the car - Nico joining you shortly after.

The car hums to life, and Nico leans back in his seat, one arm casually resting on the door as the vehicle pulls away from the airport. You settle into the plush interior, your hands neatly folded in your lap, though your mind is anything but calm. The way Nico speaks, his deep voice a contrast to the soft, warm tone, it lingers with you, a subtle undercurrent beneath the otherwise normal conversation happening in the front seats.

Mia is already chatting away with Luca, the two of them laughing about something you didn’t quite catch. You find yourself glancing at Nico once more, his posture relaxed but somehow still commanding in the space of the car.

“Are you excited to be in Switzerland for the summer?” Nico’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you blink, realising he’s been waiting for you to respond.

“Yeah, I think it’s going to be nice. It’s a lot different than where I’m from, but it’s peaceful, you know?” You hesitate, wondering if he’s even interested in hearing about your home, but Nico’s focused attention encourages you to continue.

“It is a bit of a change,” Nico comments. His voice seems warm, as though he’s trying to put you at ease, despite the subtle tension hanging in the air. “I’ve never been to Australia, but I’ve heard good things.”

“You should visit,” you say before you can stop yourself. You immediately feel a flush creep up your neck, the way his eyes lock with yours making your words feel too forward, too personal.

Nico smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe someday.” He seems to be considering it, and something in your chest tightens, like an unspoken promise hanging in the air between you.

Mia and Luca continue their conversation in the front seats, but you’re no longer focused on them. Nico is still looking at you, his gaze soft, as though he’s waiting for you to say something more, something deeper. But what could you possibly say to someone like him?

“You and Mia seem... close,” you finally say, choosing something safe, but it’s enough to break the tension.

Nico’s smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that makes you feel like you’ve just scratched the surface of who he is. “Yeah, she’s like a sister to me. We hung out a lot last time she came to see Luca,” he says, laughing softly. “She’s just... a force of nature. I know she’s happy with Luca, though, and that’s all that matters.”

You nod, feeling a little more at ease now that the conversation is off of you. The drive continues for a few minutes in silence, save for the soft hum of the car and the occasional laugh from the front seats. You can’t help but steal glances at Nico every now and then, though, wondering what else lies beneath that easygoing exterior of his.

The city of Bern slowly gives way to the lush, green landscapes of the countryside, the picturesque mountains rising in the distance. Your thoughts keep drifting back to Nico’s calm demeanour, his gentle teasing, and that fleeting moment when it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

The car takes a turn off the main road, winding through smaller paths that lead to a beautiful chalet nestled among towering trees. The house looks like something out of a magazine—modern yet rustic, with wide glass windows framing the serene mountain view. You’re just about to comment on how stunning it is when Nico speaks again, breaking your thoughts.

“You’ll like it here,” he says, his voice quieter now, more assured. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

The words are simple, but they carry an unspoken weight that makes you feel, for a moment, like you’ve been let in on a secret. You give him a small smile, unsure of how to respond to that, but grateful for his reassurance.

Luca parks the car in front of the house, turning off the engine. He leans back in his seat, glancing at the two of you in the back. “Well, welcome to Bern,” he says with a grin. “Let’s get inside before the jet lag hits you two.”

Mia opens her door first, quickly followed by Luca. Nico hesitates for a moment before stepping out of the car and rushing around to the other side of the car offering you a hand, which you take gratefully, feeling the weight of his hand in yours for a second longer than necessary.

“You head inside, look around - I’ll grab your bags.” Nico says his voice quieter as he slowly pulls his hand away from yours, his other hand holding the car door open as you slip further away from the car. You hesitate for a moment, Nico nodding for you to go ahead, your feet not wasting any more time in following after the couple who just went inside - hoping to god you find a bed soon.

“You can sleep in here, there is a bathroom through that door and a closet if you want to unpack anything - we’ll be just down the hall and Nico’s room is right across there.” Your sister explains pointing in different directions as she goes, her eyebrows raising briefly as she points to the door to Nico’s room.

“Don’t even start with that.” You sneer, your sister throwing her hands up in defence.

“I’m just saying he’s not a bad dude, and after what happened with Joh—”

“Don’t please.”

“He’s a good guy, Bee. Give him a shot to worm his way into that cold dead heart of yours.” Your sister continues, ignoring the glare you send her way, patting your head lightly before making her way down the hall to her shared bedroom with Luca, the door closing softly behind her.

You let out a long sigh, pinching your nose before retreating into the bedroom - closing the door behind you before flopping onto the mattress, melting into the plush blankets as sleep overwhelms you.

The room is bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun when you finally stir, a sense of disorientation tugging at you. For a moment, you forget where you are—the unfamiliar warmth of the air, the faint hum of nature outside, and the plush comfort of the bed beneath you all feel dreamlike. It isn’t until you turn your head and notice the neatly folded blanket draped over you that the pieces begin to fall into place.

Sitting up slowly, you glance around the room. Your suitcase sits neatly in the corner, its zipper slightly ajar as if someone had checked to ensure it made the journey unscathed. The thought pulls a soft smile to your lips; you already have a suspicion about who might have taken the time to do that.

Stretching out, you catch the faint sound of laughter drifting through the open window, voices carrying from somewhere outside. Curious, you pad over to the window, pushing aside the sheer curtain to peer out. Below, you spot Mia and Luca sitting on the edge of the deck, their legs dangling over the side as they sip what looks like glasses of wine. Nico is standing a few feet away from them, leaning casually against the railing with a beer in hand, his posture as relaxed as ever. You watch as he says something to your sister - her head nodding before he turns to make his way back into the house, your steps leading you over to your bed to refold the blanket and place it at the end of the bed where it was when you arrived.

A gentle knock on the door pulls your attention away, and you turn just in time to see it crack open. Nico's head appears, his dark eyes meeting yours with a soft, apologetic smile.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you," he says quietly. "Mia said you might still be out, but I wanted to check if you’re hungry. Dinner’s ready if you want to join us."You hesitate, still shaking off the remnants of sleep, but there’s something in his tone—gentle, patient—that makes you nod.

"Yeah, give me a minute," you say, your voice still a little groggy.

Nico steps back, nodding. "Take your time. We’re on the back deck."

As the door clicks shut, you take a deep breath, smoothing down your hair and glancing in the mirror. The sleep lines on your face are a stark reminder of how exhausted you were, but there’s no undoing that now. Besides, the promise of food—and maybe a little fresh air—sounds too good to pass up.

When you finally step outside onto the patio, the warm, golden light of the sunset greets you, casting long shadows over the wooden floorboards. The air is cool but pleasant, carrying the scent of pine and something delicious wafting from the small grill set up nearby.

"There she is!" Mia beams, waving you over enthusiastically. "Thought we’d lost you to the jet lag forever."

"Almost," you admit with a sheepish grin, taking a seat at the table where a spread of grilled vegetables, fresh bread, and what looks like marinated chicken is waiting. Nico moves to set another plate down in front of you, his movements quiet but purposeful.

"Hope you like simple meals," he says as he straightens up, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

"Looks amazing," you reply, meaning it. The sight of the food is enough to make your stomach rumble audibly, earning a laugh from Mia. Dinner is lively, Mia and Luca carrying most of the conversation with stories and jokes, their chemistry palpable. Nico chimes in every so often, his dry humor catching you off guard but making you laugh nonetheless. You find yourself stealing glances at him when you think he’s not looking, curious about the subtle shifts in his expressions as he listens to the others.

As the evening deepens, the conversation begins to quiet, the group falling into a comfortable lull. The stars begin to appear overhead, and you find your gaze wandering upward, the beauty of the glowing night sky pulling a soft sigh from your lips.

"Pretty different from the city, huh?" Nico’s voice is quiet, meant just for you. You glance at him, finding his eyes already on you, reflecting the faint light of the stars. For a moment, you forget to breathe, caught off guard by the way he looks at you—steady and intent, like he’s truly seeing you.

"Yeah," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s… peaceful." Nico’s lips curve into a small, thoughtful smile, and he leans back in his chair, his gaze lifting to the stars above.

"You get used to it. But it’s nice, seeing someone appreciate it for the first time." You don’t know what to say to that, so you let the silence settle between you, a strange but not unwelcome tension hanging in the air. It’s not uncomfortable—it’s something else entirely, something you can’t quite name but don’t want to push away. For the first time since you arrived, you feel a flicker of something unexpected—an unfamiliar warmth that has nothing to do with the summer air.

The warmth lingers as the night deepens, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The gentle murmur of crickets rises, filling the silence between the sporadic bursts of conversation around the table. You watch as Luca pours another glass of wine for Mia, his hand brushing hers in a way that seems unconscious yet deliberate. There's something soothing about their easy familiarity, the way they move around each other like pieces of a puzzle that have always fit.

Your gaze drifts back to Nico. He's leaned back in his chair now, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his beer long forgotten on the table. There's an ease to him, but it’s clear he’s observing, soaking in the atmosphere in a way that feels distinctly different from the others. It makes you wonder what he's thinking, what stories he keeps locked behind that quiet demeanor.

"Hey," Mia calls, pulling you out of your thoughts. "We were just saying we should go for a hike tomorrow. There’s a great trail not far from here. You up for it?"

You blink, caught off guard. Hiking wasn’t exactly on your agenda when you arrived, but Mia’s enthusiasm is contagious. Before you can answer, Nico speaks up, his voice calm but firm.

"Let her settle in first. She just got here." He glances at you, his brow lifting slightly as if to gauge your reaction. "You don’t have to feel pressured."

Mia rolls her eyes but laughs. "Fine, fine. You can play tour guide when she’s ready."

You chuckle softly, appreciating the out Nico has given you, even if you don’t take it. "A hike actually sounds nice. Maybe not anything too intense, though."

"Deal," Mia says, grinning. "We’ll start with the easy trail. It’s mostly flat, but the view at the end is worth it."

The conversation shifts again, and you let yourself fade into the background, content to listen. The laughter and camaraderie feel grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos of the life you left behind, if only temporarily. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this relaxed, this… present.

When the gathering finally winds down, Nico is the first to rise, collecting plates and stacking them with quiet efficiency. You stand as well, reaching for the empty glass in front of you, but he shakes his head.

"I’ve got it," he says simply, his tone leaving little room for argument.

"You sure? I don’t mind helping," you offer, unsure why you feel compelled to insist.

He pauses, meeting your gaze again with that same steady look. "I’m sure. Go enjoy the stars while you can."

There’s something in his voice that makes you obey, though you linger just a moment longer, watching as he carries the dishes inside. It’s a small thing, but the gesture feels significant in a way you can’t quite explain.

You step to the edge of the deck, leaning against the railing as your eyes lift to the heavens. The stars are brighter than you remember, each one like a tiny pinprick of light in the velvet sky. It’s breathtaking in its simplicity, the kind of beauty that makes you feel both small and infinite all at once.

Footsteps approach behind you, and you glance over your shoulder to see Nico returning, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets. He stops a few feet away, his expression wondering.

"Thanks for dinner," you say quietly, feeling the need to fill the space between you. "It was really nice."

He nods, his lips curving into that faint smile again. "Glad you enjoyed it."

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching like a thin thread between you. Then, almost imperceptibly, Nico shifts closer, resting his forearms on the railing beside you. His shoulder brushes yours lightly, and the warmth of the contact sends a faint shiver down your spine.

"You planning to stay out here all night?" he asks, his tone teasing but gentle.

“I guess it is getting a little cold.” You agree, finally pushing yourself off the railing, crossing your arms over your chest as you rub the bare skin - Nico falling into steps besides you as you both climb the small hill towards the house. The silence is comfortable, the two of you sinking into your own thoughts as you make your way up the stairs and to you respective doors, Nico glancing once over his shoulder as he watches you enter your bedroom and slowly close the door, a small smile on his face.

He knew what his brother was doing when he suggest Nico stay in the room opposite yours - and he knew what his brother and your sister were doing by insisting he come spend the summer at the lake house instead of at the family home closer to the city.

And yet a large part of him was thankful for their meddling, cause without them he wouldn’t have met you.

A girl who looks at the stars as if she’d never seen them before.

“Luca said it’s probably a good idea to wearing a bathing suit under your clothes.” You sister says as she swings open your bedroom door, your shirt just being pulled over your head. “He said there’s a small waterfall near the top and it’s nice to go for a swim.” She adds, looking down at your outfit before shaking her head.

“Nope, you can do better then that.” She dismisses, walking over to your suitcase starting to dig around before you even get a chance to respond. “This one is perfect.” She says pulling out the black high cut one piece from your suitcase, throwing it across the room to you.

“What? No, I can’t hike with that on underneath my clothes.” You exclaim, looking at the swim suit in shock, you forgot you even packed that.

“Why not - it’ll make your ass look fantastic.”

“Umm, maybe because it offers no support and it’s essentially a thong.” You respond, turning it around to show her the barely there strip of fabric that was suppose to cover your ass.

“Yeah well not everything is about functionality.” She snorts, insisting you wear it before leaving you to change. You hesitantly pull on the one piece swimsuit, already feeling the fabric riding up your ass, before pulling on your shorts and oversized t-shirt.

“At least I thought to pack hiking boots.” You mumble to yourself as you tighten the shoes on your feet, thankful that you at least could try to avoid some blisters if your sister was determined to give your butt crack a rash. You stomp your way downstairs, glaring at your sister as you watch the two brothers fill two hiking packs with snacks and water - Nico shoving a few towels in a third pack.

“I can take that.” You say quickly, snatching the bag off the counter as he zips it shut - shooting him a smile and turning to follow the couple out of the house before he has any room to argue.

The morning air is crisp and cool as the four of you set off down the dirt path leading away from the house. The forest is alive with the sounds of chirping birds and the distant rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Despite the awkward start to your day, you’re beginning to feel the excitement building. The idea of a hike—complete with a hidden waterfall—feels like the kind of adventure you hadn’t realised you were craving.

Mia and Luca lead the way, their hands brushing occasionally as they walk side by side. You trail behind them with Nico a step or two behind you, his presence quiet but grounding. The pack on your back isn’t meant to be heavy, but you can feel the straps digging in slightly, a reminder of the towels you insisted on carrying.

It’s just towels how the hell does it feel so heavy?

"Sure you don’t want me to take that?" Nico’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s looking at you with a raised eyebrow, his hands shoved casually into his pockets.

"I’ve got it," you insist, your tone light but firm. You’re not about to let him think you can’t handle carrying a simple bag.

He nods, his expression unreadable but faintly amused. "Alright. Just say the word if you change your mind."

The trail begins to incline, the terrain growing rockier as you ascend. Sweat beads on your brow despite the coolness of the morning, and you focus on your footing, determined not to trip over a loose stone or stray root. Mia and Luca are chatting animatedly ahead, their voices carrying back to you in bursts, but you’re too distracted by the strain in your thighs and the increasing awareness of the swimsuit under your clothes to pay attention.

"You okay up there?" Nico’s voice comes again, closer this time. You glance over your shoulder to see him just behind you, his dark eyes scanning you with mild concern.

"Fine," you say quickly, though your breathlessness betrays you. "Just… haven’t done this in a while." He smirks, his pace matching yours effortlessly.

"You’re doing fine. Mia usually drags people up here faster. Guess she’s going easy on you."

You snort softly at that, grateful for the distraction of his dry humor. "I’ll have to thank her later."

The trees begin to thin as you approach a clearing, and the sound of rushing water grows louder, the promise of the waterfall spurring you on. When you finally break through the last of the foliage, the sight takes your breath away. The waterfall cascades down a rocky ledge, its water glistening in the sunlight as it spills into a crystal-clear pool below. The air is cooler here, misting faintly around you as if the scene itself is enchanted.

"Wow," you breathe, pausing at the edge of the clearing.

Mia grins, already kicking off her shoes. "Told you it was worth it!" She turns to Luca, who’s already peeling off his shirt, revealing a tan, athletic frame.

You hesitate, your gaze flicking to the pool and then to Nico, who’s unzipping his pack and pulling out a bottle of water. His movement is efficient, and there’s something about the way his shirt clings to his back that has your mouth going dry. You shake the thought away quickly, reminding yourself to stay focused.

"Well," Mia says, turning to you with a mischievous grin. "Time to test out that swimsuit."

You groan, your cheeks heating as she waves you toward the water. "Don’t make it weird," you mutter, kicking off your boots and socks. You push you shorts down your legs glad for the oversized shirt still covering your ass that’s hanging out, hoping no one’s paying attention as you take a deep breath stripping off your shit down to the swimsuit. The high cut and minimal coverage feeling more scandalous out in the open, and you resist the urge to tug at the fabric as you step to the edge of the pool.

“Wowza my little sister has tits.” You sister whistles from the water, Luca glancing over his shoulder as he shoots you a teasing grin, letting out a low whistle.

“If I wasn’t dating your sister, you’d be top of my list little bee.” He coos, letting out a grunt as your sister slams her elbow into his side. He whispers a soft apology kissing her cheek gently before paddling away from her.

"Looks good," Nico says offhandedly, his tone neutral but enough to make you pause. You glance at him sharply, but he’s already looking away, his focus seemingly on the towels he’s laying out on a flat rock.

Your sister giggles, shooting you a knowing look, but you refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, you take a deep breath and step into the water, the coolness wrapping around your legs and immediately refreshing your overheated skin.

"Cold?" Nico asks as he steps up beside you, his voice low enough that Mia and Luca don’t hear.

"A little," you admit, glancing at him. He smirks again, his eyes glinting with amusement, raking slowly down your body before snapping up to your face, his expression now stone cold as he takes another step towards the water.

"You’ll get used to it." And with that, he wades in farther, the water lapping at his waist before he ducks under completely. When he surfaces, his hair slicked back and water streaming down his face, you feel your breath catch—not from the cold, but from the way he seems utterly at ease, like he belongs here.

You shake the thought away, diving in after him. The water envelopes you, cool and invigorating, and when you resurface, you feel lighter—freer.

“Want to climb up there?” Mia’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and you turn to find her pointing to a ledge halfway up the waterfall. You squint at the spot, the cascading water making it look more slippery than inviting.

“What, so I can slip and break my neck?”

“No, so you can jump off!” Mia exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “It’s not that high, and the pool’s deep enough. Luca’s done it a million times.” Luca, now fully sprawled on his precarious rock, overhears and shoots a thumbs-up.

“Highly recommend! Best adrenaline rush you’ll get around here.”

You hesitate, glancing toward Nico as if for a second opinion. He doesn’t say anything, but the faintest hint of a smile tugs at his lips as he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at him,” Mia chides, grabbing your arm. “You’re doing this.”

With no room to argue, you let her drag you toward the rocks along the edge of the pool. The climb isn’t as treacherous as it first seemed, though your heart pounds with each step closer to the top. When you finally reach the ledge, the view takes your breath away—a panoramic glimpse of the forest stretching out beyond the pool below, sunlight glinting off the water’s surface like diamonds.

“Okay, now just jump!” Mia says, beaming as if this is the simplest thing in the world. You glance down, your stomach flipping at the height. It’s not exactly terrifying, but it��s far enough to make you hesitate. “What if I land wrong?”

“You won’t,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Just aim for the middle and tuck your legs if you’re scared. Easy.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, peering over the edge again. From below, Luca hollers encouragement, and Nico’s gaze is locked on you, calm and steady.

“You’ve got this,” Nico calls, his voice cutting through the rush of the falls. It’s not loud, but it carries enough conviction to steady your nerves.

Taking a deep breath, you step to the edge and count silently. One, two—

And then you leap.

The fall is exhilarating, a brief moment of weightlessness that sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins. The water greets you with a cool, refreshing embrace, and when you resurface, the sheer thrill of it has you laughing out loud. Mia cheers from the ledge above before cannonballing in after you, her splash sending ripples through the pool. Luca hoots his approval, and even Nico offers a nod of acknowledgment as you float on the surface, still grinning.

“See? Told you it was worth it,” Mia says, shaking water from her hair as she paddles closer.

“Okay, you were right,” you admit, your heart still racing. “But I’m never doing that again.”

“Liar,” she shoots back with a wink.

You glance at Nico, who’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—something between amusement and quiet admiration. For a moment, the world feels smaller, quieter, the sounds of laughter and rushing water fading into the background.

And then, just as quickly, he breaks eye contact, slipping back into the water and disappearing beneath the surface. You watch the water where he disappeared, waiting for him to pop back up with no luck - is he aqua man how is he holding his breath for so long?

You tread water, watching as Luca and Mia exit the water, setting up camp on two towels right under the sun, a harsh tug on your ankle ripping a squeal from your as you’re pulled under the water. Firm hands land on your waist as Nico hauls you back to the surface, his laugh echoing in the space as you both surface, his dimples digging into his cheeks as you swat at his chest.

“Not funny, Nico.” You hiss, frowning at him as he lets out another round of laughter, the sound so unlike anything you’d heard from him before - sounding so similar to that of a giggle then the manly voice that usually escapes him.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He apologises quickly adding, “It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.” His hands are still firm on your waist as his laughter dies away his expression serious for a moment as he leans in whispering softly.

“They’re right you know.” He says, his gaze flicking to your siblings before back to you, “the swimsuit looks incredible on you.” Nico leaves you sputtering his hands gently grazing down to your hips before releasing you, and making the short swim back to shore, your brain taking a moment to catch up before you swim after him.

You follow Nico back to the shore, your heart pounding—not just from the exertion of swimming but from the lingering sensation of his hands on your waist and the low timbre of his voice. Did he really just say that? Your cheeks burn as you replay his words, and you’re grateful for the water concealing any hint of your flustered state.

Mia and Luca are sprawled on their towels, already engrossed in some lighthearted argument about what to cook for dinner. Nico grabs another towel from the pile, running it over his hair before draping it around his neck. He doesn’t glance your way, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he knows exactly what kind of chaos he’s left in his wake.

You sit down on your own towel, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the horizon as you attempt to gather your thoughts. The warmth of the sun on your skin and the gentle rustle of the forest around you should be calming, but your mind is spinning.

What did he mean by that? Was he teasing, or…?

Mia interrupts your internal spiral by nudging you with her foot. "So, when’s the next jump?" she teases, her grin wide and mischievous.

"Never," you reply quickly, grabbing the towel and wrapping it tighter around yourself. “I’m retiring from cliff diving.”

“Sure you are,” Luca says with a laugh, tossing a granola bar your way. “You’ll be back up there before the day’s over.”

You roll your eyes but catch the granola bar, peeling it open and taking a bite as you sneak a glance at Nico. He’s leaning back on his elbows now, his gaze fixed on the sky as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

As the sun begins to dip lower, painting the clearing in hues of gold and orange, the group starts packing up to head home. Nico’s quiet for most of the walk back, but you can feel his presence behind you, steady and grounding. Every now and then, you catch him glancing your way, his expression unreadable but leaving you wondering what’s going on in his head.

When you finally reach the house, the familiar smell of fresh air and pine clinging to your skin, you’re met with a new challenge: pretending everything is normal. Mia and Luca immediately collapse onto the couch, talking animatedly about their plans to make pasta for dinner. You excuse yourself, heading upstairs for a much-needed shower.

Under the hot water, you replay the day’s events—the jump, the laughter, the way Nico looked at you. His words echo in your mind, and you find yourself smiling despite your confusion. By the time you finish and step out of the bathroom, you’ve convinced yourself it was all just playful teasing.

But when you head back downstairs, Nico’s the first to look up from his spot at the kitchen counter. His gaze locks on yours for a heartbeat longer than it should, and the faintest smile tugs at his lips.

Maybe it wasn’t teasing after all.

Two weeks moved by quickly - your days often starting with a hearty home cooked breakfast and lounging by the lake - more often then not your time spent sprawled on a beach towel, watching your sister and her boyfriend fall deeper in love with each other. Luca had pulled you aside early on Sunday morning, your final week in Switzerland quickly approaching.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, really quickly.” He says quietly, his gaze shooting over to your sister who is sprawled across the couch, fast asleep. You nod, letting Luca lead the way out of the house, his eyes glancing over his shoulder every now and then to make sure no one follows you out of the house. When you reach a spot a safe distance away Luca finally stops, taking in a deep breath before blurting out.

“I want to marry your sister.”

Your breath catches for a moment, not out of shock but at the suddenness of his confession. Luca's face is flushed, his usually calm and collected demeanour replaced by an almost boyish nervousness. He quickly continues, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if afraid you'd interrupt.

"I know it might seem fast, and I get that. But I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. She’s… she’s everything to me. And I wanted to come to you first because I respect you, and I know how close you two are."

He shifts his weight, running a hand through his hair, his usual confidence wavering. "I’ve been carrying the ring around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. But I need to know you’re okay with it. That we have your blessing too."

You’re silent for a beat, the gravity of his words settling over you. It’s not as though you hadn’t noticed the way Luca looked at your sister—like she was the sun and he’d never tire of basking in her warmth. But hearing his intentions laid out so plainly catches you off guard.

"What if I said no?" you ask, your tone light, testing.

Luca’s eyes widen slightly, but to his credit, he doesn’t falter. "Then I’d keep trying. I’d keep proving myself until you saw what I see. But I hope you won’t say no."

A small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. His sincerity is disarming, and as much as the thought of your sister marrying someone might make you protective, you can’t deny the truth in his words. They’re good together—good for each other.

"You’re sure about this?" you ask, tilting your head. "Because it’s not just about loving her, you know. It’s about being patient when she’s stubborn, supporting her when she’s feeling lost, and—"

"—And reminding her every day how incredible she is," Luca finishes, his voice steady now. "Yes. I’m sure."

For a moment, you study him, searching for any cracks in his resolve. But there are none. What you find instead is a man who loves your sister with his whole heart. And in that moment, you know you can’t deny him.

"Alright," you finally say, crossing your arms with a small smirk. "But if you ever hurt her, you’ll have to answer to me."

Luca exhales, relief washing over his features, and he nods earnestly. "Deal."

The two of you start walking back to the house, the tension from earlier replaced with an easy camaraderie. As you step onto the porch, Luca pauses, looking at you one last time.

“Thank you," he says softly. "It means a lot."

You nod, glancing toward the window where your sister is still asleep, oblivious to the conversation that just took place. "Just make her happy, Luca. That’s all I ask." Luca nods once with determination, turning back to you quickly with an apologetic look on his face.

“Um, there’s a chance we might not be home tonight.” He warns, a wide eyed look on your face as he bounds up the stairs, the small square box more obvious in his pant pocket as he walks.

“I take it he finally told you?” Nico’s voice makes you jump, his body radiating heat as he steps up besides you, a small smile on his face as he looks up to where his brother just disappeared.

“You knew?”

“I knew since the first time he told me about her.” Nico admits, his smile growing as the memory of his brothers immediate infatuation hits him. “I guess it’s just you and I tonight then.” He adds, his grin changing from soft to teasing, his eyes dropping to yours for a moment before glancing back up the stairs.

“I suppose I better make it worth your while.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans forwards, his breath ghosting over your lips - his finger tip ever so gently pushing a piece of hair away from your face.

Your heart skips a beat as Nico's words hang in the air, the playful glint in his eyes offset by the way his gaze lingers on you, filled with something deeper. You’re caught between his closeness and the sudden intimacy of the moment, unsure whether to lean into it or laugh it off.

Before you can decide, the front door creaks open behind you, and both of you instinctively step apart. The interruption feels jarring, pulling you back to reality. It’s just the wind, you realize, but the moment has shifted.

Nico chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry, I couldn’t help myself," he murmurs, though there’s no real regret in his voice. Instead, there’s a teasing warmth, a sense of waiting to see how you’ll respond.

You give him a playful nudge, breaking the tension with a small laugh. "Smooth, Hischier."

Nico grins, his dimples on full display, and the sight makes your stomach flip. Turning back toward the house before he can see the blush creeping up your neck. "I’m not as easy to impress as my sister, you’ll have to work hard to gain my favour."

"Challenge accepted," Nico calls after you, his laughter chasing you through the house.

The evening comes quietly, the house settling into a tranquil lull without Luca and your sister around. True to his word, Nico sticks by your side, his easy humour keeping the night light as the two of you make dinner together.

You find yourself watching him as he moves around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, his focus shifting between the chopping board and the stovetop. There’s a comfort in his presence, an ease that you hadn’t realised you’d grown to enjoy over the past two weeks.

At some point, Nico catches you staring, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. "What?" he asks, his voice soft but curious.

"Nothing," you say quickly, looking away, but the warmth in his gaze makes it hard to hide your smile.

Later, after the dishes are cleared and the sun has set, the two of you find yourselves on the couch , a bottle of wine between you. All the windows in the house are open, the cooling breeze just barely easing the burning in your skin, Nico’s gaze heating you up from the inside.

"You know," Nico begins, breaking the silence, "I think this is the first time I’ve had my brother to thank for something like this."

"Like what?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He tilts his head toward you, his expression soft but intent. "For meeting you."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. But as you meet his gaze, the guarded part of your heart begins to crack, just a little, under the weight of his honesty.

"I guess I’ll have to thank him too," you say softly, and Nico’s smile grows, quiet and full of promise.

The stars above seem impossibly bright outside, their reflection on the lake shimmering like liquid silver in the quiet night. The air feels thick with unspoken words, the kind that settle into comfortable silence but beg to be released. You steal a glance at Nico, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the low lights in the house. His eyes are fixed on the lake, but there’s something contemplative about his expression, like he’s wrestling with whether to speak.

Finally, he turns to you, his voice low, intimate. "You ever have one of those moments where you feel like everything’s exactly as it’s meant to be?"

His question catches you off guard, but the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the answer to that very thought—leaves you breathless.

"Maybe," you reply, your voice just above a whisper. "I think I’m starting to understand what that feels like."

Nico’s lips curve into a soft smile, the kind that’s both tender and sure. He leans a little closer, his elbows resting on his knees as his gaze stays locked on yours.

"Good," he says simply, his voice carrying more meaning than the single word could hold.

"You don’t make this easy, you know," he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles along the front of your thigh.

"Don’t make what easy?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly, though you already know the answer.

"Not wanting to kiss you," he admits, his tone both teasing and earnest. His words send a jolt through you, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything: the warmth of his hand, the faint scent of cologne clinging to him, the way his breath hitches slightly as he waits for your response.

"You don’t have to not want to," you say, barely recognising your own voice. It’s an invitation, one he doesn’t hesitate to accept.

Nico leans in slowly, his free hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his touch featherlight as if he’s afraid to break the moment. His big brown eyes search yours one last time, giving you the chance to pull away.

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in too, meeting him halfway.

When his lips finally press against yours, it’s soft, tentative at first, as though he’s savouring the moment. But as you respond, your hands finding their way to his chest, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer towards you, his kiss deepens, growing more confident, more certain. There’s a warmth in it, a mix of passion and tenderness that leaves you dizzy, the world around you fading until it’s just the two of you.

When you break apart, your chests are heaving the two of your looking at each other for a moment, Nico’s hands finding purchase on the back of your thighs, lifting them to manoeuvre you more comfortably on the couch, your back leaning against the arm rest, your legs bent at the knees, falling open slightly to make room for Nico’s broad build.

Nico takes the invitation, slipping into the gap between your legs before lowering his mouth back to yours, your hands lifting to cup his jaw as his hand sit firmly against the back of your thighs, lifting them to circle around his waist, as his mouth leaves yours, his lips finding the tender curve of your jaw, just below the ear, his kisses firmer on the underside of your jaw.

“Nico?” You speak in a whisper, Nico humming his response against your skin, his lips never stopping their movements. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” You add, your hands dropping to his shoulders, digging into his corded muscles as he sucks a particularly sensitive spot.

“You want me to stop?” He asks, pulling his face away from your neck to look down at you, his brows furrowed in concern, his eyes trying to read yours.

“No, I just…” You start, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you fumble for what to say.

“You’re overthinking it.” Nico guesses, his head nodding quickly as he begins to understand the situation. “Come.” He says, pulling himself off the lounger, your brain having to fight your body to let him go. He offers you hand to help you stand, watching as your adjust your shorts and run your fingers through your hair.

“Where are we going?” You ask, as Nico keeps his hand in yours slowly guiding you towards the stairs.

“To my room.” He explains, sending you a reassuring smile as he adds, “Do all the thinking you want, but if you step through the door with me then you need to turn your brain off.” He walks slowly up the stairs, his fingers still locked with yours as you trail behind him, your mind racing at a million miles an hours as the two of your silently make you way to his bedroom, stopping just outside the closed door.

Nico pauses, his eyes locked with yours as he watches you for a moment. He always thought you were so hard to read - keeping yourself closed off from most of the world, but right now, in this moment Nico can see everything.

“Let me take care of you, Schatz.” He whispers, the term on endearment slipping off his tongue with no concern in the world. The term something you had heard his older brother call your sister countless times. The playful ease was gone from Nico’s face, his expression only holding a soft patience, his eyes refusing to break contact with yours.

“Okay.” You nod softly, eye contact never breaking as Nico turns the door handle the door swinging open, the large man taking a few steps inside before pausing to wait.

You pause at the threshold, your fingers still curled around Nico’s, your heart thundering in your chest. The room beyond feels impossibly intimate, softly lit by a single lamp on the nightstand. The air carries the faint scent of his cologne, mingled with the warmth of the day that still lingers in the walls.

Nico doesn’t rush you. He stands just inside, his gaze steady, his patience unwavering. His thumb brushes lightly against the back of your hand, a gentle anchor in the storm of your thoughts.

"You don’t have to," he murmurs, his voice low and careful. "But if you do… I promise I’ll take care of you. No pressure. No expectations."

There’s something disarming in his honesty, in the way he’s offering you the choice without pushing for a particular outcome. It makes your chest ache, that guarded part of you cracking just a little more.

You take a step forward, your breath hitching as you cross the threshold. The door clicks softly shut behind you, the sound somehow final and freeing all at once. Nico lets go of your hand only to reach up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch lingers, his palm warm against your cheek.

"You’re sure?" he asks, his gaze searching yours one last time.

Instead of answering, you close the distance between you, rising on your toes to kiss him. It’s slower this time, deliberate, your hands settling on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. Nico exhales softly against your lips, his arms circling your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

When the kiss breaks, you’re breathless, your forehead resting against his as you try to steady yourself. His hands trail down your back, stopping at the curve of your hips.

“Follow my lead,” he murmurs, guiding you toward the bed. He sits first, his legs spreading slightly as he pulls you between them. His hands find your waist again, holding you steady as he looks up at you, his expression open and full of unspoken promises.

You settle into his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs, your hands tentatively tracing the line of his jaw. His stubble is rough beneath your fingertips, a grounding contrast to the tenderness in his eyes.

Nico tilts his head, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm before placing it over his heart. "Whatever you need, however far you want to go—just tell me."

The weight of his sincerity leaves you speechless for a moment. You nod, unable to do much else, and Nico smiles, that same soft, patient curve of his lips that always seems to put you at ease. "Good," he says, his voice a soothing rumble. "Now, let’s take this one moment at a time." And as his lips find yours again, slow and steady, you let yourself sink into the moment, the rest of the world falling away.

All of Nico’s movements are slow and purposeful, his large hands smoothing down from your hips and under the hem of your shorts, grabbing fistfuls of your ass, a grin growing on his face as your grind forwards against his lap. Nico rolls the two of you your back landing against the mattress with a bounce as he rolls on top of you, his hands teasing the edges of your panties before he pulls them away.

“I think your ass is the best thing I’ve ever touched in my life.” Nico mumbles, his pupils blown as he sits back on his knees, his hands smoothing up the front of your thighs, watching as you gasp a little and his hands dip underneath your shirt, tracing the underwire of your bra. “But all I can think about is getting a taste of you.” His voice is gravely, a devilish grin on his face as his hands make their way back down to the waist band of your pants.

“Wait.” You cut in, your hands gripping his wrists as his hands pause their movements on your shorts, his eyes shooting up to yours in concern, a raised brow as he waits for you to explain. “I’ve just never…” You start hesitating as you realise how stupid you’re about to sound.

Nico reels back a little in surprise, his brows pinching in a frown as he thinks for a moment before spitting out, “But you’ve had a boyfriend, no?” He seems to reconsider his words for a moment before adding, “Mia told me you’ve dated before.”

“I’ve had a boyfriend.” You explain, “But he never saw the importance of…that.” You try to get out the words but they seem stuck in your throat, your head nodding down to where Nico has his hands as if that will explain everything.

“Well then he sounds like a bad boyfriend.” Nico cuts in, his smile back on his face as he slowly inches your shorts down, both of you silent as he slips them down and off your legs, throwing them to the side. “This.” He says giving you a pointed look, “Is the bare minimum.” Nico slowly shuffles back on the mattress until he has no choice but to lift himself up and onto the floor, perching on his knees as he reaches for your thighs again.

His grip is firm on your legs, his hands splayed against the plush flesh as he shoots you a quick smirk before tugging your roughly down the bed, until your throbbing cunt is level with his face. “I want to hear every pretty sound that I can pull out of you.” Nico warns, his fingers looping over the sides of your panties before pulling them off as well.

“I want you to do whatever feels right…” He looks up at your in anticipation, as you lift yourself onto your elbows, watching as he places soft kisses against the inside of your thighs, “Mainly I want you to feel good, so use your words.” He gives you one more look, your head nodding at his instructions as he leans forwards.

The first swipe of his hot tongue has your arms collapsing out from under you, your back hitting the mattress roughly as you feel Nico smile against you, going in for more. Nico’s tongue works wonders with long slow swipes against you, his arms looping around your thighs to hold them steady, his grin never leaving his face as you let out a soft moan, your hands leaving the mattress to tangle in his long locks.

It’s when his mouth closes over you, sucking that your back arches off the bed. “Holy shit.” You whine, your fingers tugging lightly on Nico’s hair, a rough grunt leaving him as his efforts double. You can feel his muscles straining as your hips buck against his face, his arms still holding you in place as his fingers tickle soft circles against your skin.

“Nico, please.” You cry, yours hips bucking again as you feel your pleasure climb. How you’d never experience something like this before was insane to you.

“Nico what?” He asks, leaving your wet pussy for a moment while he waits for you to respond, his stubble scraping up the inside of your thighs as he catches his breath, your hand still tangled in his hair.

“Fingers.” You pant, “Please use your fingers.” You beg, Nico kissing your thigh once more before diving back in, one of his hands leaving it’s spot against your thigh, slowly dipping to your entrance, gathering a mixture of spit and arousal before plunging inside you, your hands releasing Nico’s hair in favour of gripping the bed sheets.

“Fuck, Nico.” You curse, letting out a harsh pant before adding. “Another one.” Nico happily obliges, his second finger joining the party as his rubs them against the soft spots inside of you. Nico lifts his face away from you, his fingers doing all the works as he takes you in.

You hands tangled in the sheets, grounding you for dear life as his fingers pump in and out of you. Soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lower lip, your eyes squeezed shut as tight as they can go, your cunt squeezing his fingers desperately trying to keep them inside.

“I’m so close.” You hiss, the feeling borderline painful as you try to hold on.

“I know, Shatz.” He whispers, his hot breath caressing over your wetness, “Just relax into it.” He whispers before his mouth descends on you again, your orgasm ripped from you, as your legs shiver besides his head, trying their hardest to squeeze shut around his head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You swear, as Nico pulls his fingers from you, his tongue not finished as you try to wiggle your pelvis away from his face.

“No.” Nico growls, his hands moving faster then you can, gripping your thighs and pulling you straight back to him, his tongue lapping up every drop until he’s certain he didn’t miss anything. Nico’s grip on you loosens as he feels your body relax, almost melting into the mattress. “Good girl.” He coos as he dips his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean before climbing back onto the mattress, his body hovering over yours.

“Was it too much?” He asks softly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your lips, your eyes finally popping open, the colour in your eyes almost completely disappearing behind your dilated pupils. Nico’s breath catches, your eyes shining like the night when you first saw the stars.

Nico knew then that he was a goner.

“I want more.” Your voice is quiet, almost ashamed of the request but you can feel the flutter in your chest as Nico nods with determination, pushing himself off the bed once more as he starts to strip himself of his clothes.

“Shirt off.” He says quickly to you, your mouth falling open at his authoritative tone, “I want to see all of you.” He adds as he notices your hesitation, your throat bobbing as you lift yourself into a sitting position to pull of your shirt, throwing it to join the rest of the pile on the floor, your hands reaching behind you to release the clasp on your bra. You cross an arm over your chest as you drop the bra to the floor, your hand only dropping once you see the scolding in Nico’s eyes.

“Fuck me.” It’s Nico’s turn to curse as he takes you in. “Stay right there, I need to commit this to memory.” He groans as his eyes skim over every inch of your body, your skin flushing as you watch him take you in.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispers to himself, palming himself through his boxers to release some of the tension. “I’ve never been with anyone like you.” He admits, your eyes rolling as he finally strips himself of his underwear, his rock hard cock springing free, he leans forwards sliding open a bedside table drawer, pulling out a foil package.

“Yeah, you’ve only ever been with perfect model types.” You laugh, watching as Nico rips open the package, slowly rolling the condom onto his dick before climbing onto the mattress, sitting with his back against the headboard. “Typical NHL player.” You joke, your laugh faltering as you notice Nico’s continued expression of awe.

“You are perfection.” He cuts through your silence, his hand reaching out for you to join him. “You are like a gift from Aphrodite.” He adds, your heart thumping heavier at his praise.

Nico watches you climb on top of him, your thighs straddling his, your hands bracing against his shoulders. Nico tilts his head back against the headboard wanting to be able to look directly into your eyes as often as he can.

He looks at you like you’ve hung to moon, because in his opinion — you have.

Nico watches - like he always does - as you softly grab hold of his cock, pumping it a few time, a soft hiss of air escaping him as you line him up with your cunt. Nico’s patient as you slide down him, pausing to adjust every few moments until your sitting comfortably in his lap - your pussy fuller then it’s ever been.

Everything is in your control.

Everything revolves around you.

Nico’s head falls into the crook of your neck, soft curses leaving him as his arms wrap around you tightly, pulling your body against his, your hips slowly rolling forwards and back, forwards and back.

“You’re a goddess.” He whispers against your skin, his arms holding you steady as your movements speed up, a soft creak of the bed filling the room.

“I would give you anything and everything.” He continues, the words almost falling out of him like a prayer, as he presses featherlight kisses against your bare skin, your breasts pressed firmly against his chest. You let out a whine as he bucks his hips to meet your movements.

He lifts one thumb to his mouth, briefly dipping it inside before dropping it your where your hips meet, his thumb slowly putting pressure on your throbbing clit - rubbing in soft circles. He can’t help but smile as your hips stutter and your pussy clenches around his cock, the signs of your incoming orgasm relieving him as the feeling builds in the pit of his stomach.

The two of you finish one after the other, Nico coming first with a curse his hands gripping your hips to keep them moving as he feels your orgasm wash over you, your body almost collapsing against him as you let him continue to guide your hips, riding both of you through the orgasms.

Nico finally lets your hips go, your movements stopping as you both take in deep breaths of air - the room silent other than your breathing.

“I think you’ve ruined me.” Nico whispers against your skin, placing one more kiss to your shoulder before pulling his head away from you, his hands raising to push your hair out of your face as he helps you sit back up, your eyes dazed as you look down at him.

“Ditto.” Is all you manage out, a soft chuckle leaving you as you try to pull yourself away from Nico, his dick sliding out of you at an excruciating place. “Do you have a shower in here by any chance?” You question as you finally make it off the bed, the sticky, sweaty feeling finally hitting you.

Nico nods quickly, shuffling off the bed to walk around you, grabbing a towel from his closet and showing you into the bathroom, your arms covering your chest as he turns the shower to a mildly scalding temperature for you. “I’ll wait outside.” He says quickly, making his way to the door before hesitating.

He turns back around, stepping forwards to pull you in for one more breath stealing kiss, his smile lighting up his face as he mumbles a quick “sorry,” before leaving you alone in the bathroom, your legs shaking from everything that had happened.

The two of you ended up tangled together in Nico’s bed - the man having the decency to change his sheets before almost begging you to join him - his arms opened wide and inviting as you step out of the bathroom - his shirt hanging over the foot of the bed in offering of some modesty.

“I really really like you.” Nico whispers against your hair as he wraps his arms around your middle, pulling your back tight against his chest, his breathing lulling you both to sleep, your bodies both depleted.

It isn’t lost on Nico that you don’t respond, but he can feel the way your fingers squeeze his and he knows, you feel the same too.

The early rising of the sun guides you as you slowly slip out of Nico’s arms, tugging his shirt down to cover as much of you as possible as you bend to pick up your clothes off the floor. You’re almost at the door when you hear Nico sit up in the bed, his hand pushing his hair off his forehead as he squints at you.

“Where are you going?” He questions, a small pout growing on his face, “Why are you leaving?” He adds, his expression so genuinely distraught you falter, rushing towards the bed to press a soft kiss against his mouth.

“Back to my room - Luca and Mia will be home soon.” You respond, pressing a second kiss to his mouth before fulfilling your original plan of escaping back to the bright sun lighting up your bedroom.

By midweek, something had shifted. Nico couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the ease that had settled between you both after that night now seemed... off. He’d catch you pulling away when he leaned in too close, or your smile would falter just a second too soon when he said something meant to make you laugh.

It wasn’t dramatic, not really. Nothing explicit had been said or done, but Nico could feel it like a weight on his chest. You still smiled at him, still reached out for him when you thought no one was looking, but there was a distance now—something unspoken and sharp.

Wednesday evening found Nico sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. His fingers itched to call you, text you, something, but he didn’t want to come across as needy. He ruffled his hair with both hands, frustrated with himself for feeling so thrown off.

“What did I do wrong?” he muttered under his breath.

The question had been swirling in his head all day. Everything had seemed so perfect that morning—your soft kisses, the way you lingered just long enough to make it feel like you didn’t really want to leave. But now, it was like the world had tilted slightly, throwing everything off balance.

By Thursday, Nico couldn’t take it anymore. He cornered you in the hallway, gently grabbing your wrist as you tried to brush past him.

“Can we talk?” he said softly, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign of what was going on. You hesitated, your lips parting like you might brush him off, but something in his expression stopped you. His hand on your wrist wasn’t demanding; it was desperate.

“Okay,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He led you outside, the cool evening air biting at your skin as you stepped onto the patio. Nico let go of your wrist but didn’t move far, his hands now shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did I do something?” he asked, his voice barely steady. “I just... it feels like something’s changed, and I don’t know what. If I messed up, I need you to tell me, Bee. I can’t—” He broke off, looking down as his jaw tightened.

You stared at him, your heart sinking at the vulnerability in his voice. He wasn’t just confused; he was hurt.

“It’s not you,” you said quickly, stepping closer, though your arms stayed wrapped around yourself. “Nico, it’s not you. I just... I’m scared, okay? About what this is, about how fast everything’s moving. It’s not that I don’t care—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip. “I do care. That’s the problem.”

Nico’s eyes softened as he looked at you. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Bee. I just need to know where we stand. You can tell me anything.”

Your throat tightened at his words, the sincerity in his gaze almost overwhelming. You reached out hesitantly, your fingers brushing his.

“I’m trying,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I just... I need time to figure this out. Can you give me that?”He nodded quickly, his relief evident even as his expression remained serious.

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “I’ll wait. Just—just don’t shut me out, okay? I can’t handle that.”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I won’t,” you promised.

Saturday morning hit everyone like a train - your sister had decided to stay in Switzerland for a few more weeks, wanting to spend some time making rough plans with her new fiancé, which left you catching the almost twenty four hour flight home, alone.

“You’ve got everything?” Your sister asks as you put your suitcase in the back of the car — Nico standing by the drivers door with the keys in his hand.

“Yep, thank you guys for everything - I think this was the best holiday I’ve ever had.” You say softly, leaning forwards to pull your older sister into a tight hug before turning towards Luca and pulling him in for one too.

“We’re family now, you can come back anytime.” Luca says cheerfully, patting your head softly before turning to wrap his arms around his now sobbing fiancé. “No need to cry, she’ll be okay.” He coos at your sister, his words only making her sob harder. You chuckle at your sisters dramatics, waving a final goodbye to Luca before slipping into the passenger seat of the car, Nico sliding in besides you.

The drive to the airport is quiet, the morning sun casting a golden glow over the mountains. Nico keeps his hands on the wheel, his jaw tight as though he’s holding back something he doesn’t want to say. You glance over at him, studying the curve of his brow and the tension in his lips.

You want to memorise as much of him as you can, before you go.

Finally, as the airport looms into view, he pulls the car into an empty space and cuts the engine. The silence stretches between you, heavy and loaded. Then he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He takes a deep breath before adding “Please stay.” The words hang in the air, and your heart tightens painfully in your chest. You want to say yes, to give into the magnetic pull between you and stay in this dreamlike moment forever.

But reality is relentless.

“We have our lives to return to, Nico,” you say softly, looking down at your hands. “We can’t just stay here trapped in time, forever.”

He turns to face you, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that makes your resolve waver. “Will we see each other again?” he asks, his voice trembling just enough to reveal the weight of the question.

You pause, the enormity of your feelings crashing over you like a wave. “Someday,” you say, meeting his gaze and offering a faint smile.

“Someday,” he repeats, the word a lifeline he’s choosing to cling to. Then, as if convincing himself, he nods. “I can live with someday.”

You reach over, placing a hand over his. For a moment, the world feels frozen, just the two of you in this car, this fleeting moment that feels both heartbreaking and hopeful. Then, with a deep breath, you pull away, opening the door and stepping out.

As you grab your suitcase from the trunk, Nico stays by the car, watching you with an expression you know will haunt you for a long time. You wave one last time before heading into the airport, your heart heavy but filled with a quiet determination.

Someday.

You can live with someday too.

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier smut #slowburn fanfic #one of my favs tbh

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theladybrownstarot · 2 months ago

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Pick-A-Card: What messages your future spouse wants to give you ?

𐙚˚ Here's my masterlist for more !

𐙚˚ Make sure you like/follow/reblogg and comment for pacs like these !

Pile 1 .

Namaste pile 1 ! Let's get with your reading:

Hey love , don't be hopeless but hopeful okay ? I feel sad when you are sad .. I will come soon to meet you!

You should go outside more and socialise. Don't be a hypocrite! Live your life yes !

Damnn man you so brainy like me ! I will plan study dates often yay !

Don't be a coffee/tea addict and take care of your health okay ?

Don't you think that you are being quite lazy now days , huh ? Get your ass for work !

Don't be too selfless because people ain't that good in this world but somehow seeing you I feel happy that you are among those who are rare gems for this world.

Pile 2.

Namaste pile 2 ! Let's get with your reading :

Listen to me you can do it because I believe in you than anyone in this world . You understand me ? I belive in you and with you because we are in this together.

You appear to be more angelic when you are calm not when you are/will be shouting on me .

I just feel so attracted towards you like man why are you so damnn attractive without efforts, huh ... ? Like how is it possible On this earth ? O lord take me up away from her !

You are that light for me and others in this world we look for up to In our dark time .

Umm wait bro you gotta change your curtain and walls .. modify or change them.

You are that great opportunity I would never let go from me because I know you are my one and last time ...

Pile 3.

Namaste pile 3 ! Let's get with your reading:

Wake up . What is that you truly want ? Don't get nervous or scared believe me it's not that hard .

Hehe finally we are going to be a family/ we gonna meet each other's family and have fun !

Let's go somewhere around the beach or water and make sand castle !

I want to suprise you everytime but I'm surprised when you get surprised from small small things you know ... you teach me that's there beauty in everything.

I really want us to go together ahead in life and have fun and also I wanna grow with you in our career together side by side... I want to enjoy each and every moment with you.. I want to give you everything I have with Me so to just see you smiling .

Gosh you gotta see me only when my friend around cuz they like you a lot meh

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asumofwords · 11 months ago

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Midpoint - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: The semester break came along quicker than you thought it would, and you decided to stay on campus for the break to get ahead in your studies. What will happen when you go head-to-head with a certain ill-tempered maths student in a war of pettiness?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Arguing, pettiness, name calling, low blows, tension, degradation, ripped stockings, finger fucking, rough fucking, fucking in public, p in v, creampie, cum eating.

Word Count: 8.7k

Notes: Hello my angels, Happy New Year, heres to all the filth that will continue to come from the cesspool that is my mind. Thank you all for your patience, I have been so excited to write for Michael, and so I hope you enjoy this as much as I have writing it !! heheh ;) <3

Part 2

There was a soft amber glow that cast over the library, the dark wood warming with the golden light that peaked through the windows, patches of wooden floors illuminated in some spots with coloured lights from stained glass windows.

For the most part, the library was empty bar three other students who had stayed behind for the break, getting ahead on their work for the next semester.

You were one of them, and with the sheer size of the library, you wouldn’t have known there were others inside if you had not seen them when walking down the endless isles of books in search for the ‘British Working Class Movements’ for your history course.

It didn’t take long for you to find it, and by the time you settled into a secluded corner down the back, the sun had already begun to set. You flicked on one of the green and gold table lamps and began to read, periodically taking notes on a page as you went.

It wasn’t that you needed to study ahead, it simply gave you something to do whilst the break droned on, few students having stayed behind making it lonely, but a bit more bearable than making the long trip home.

You loved the library, the stained wood, smell of old books lining the walls, and the quiet of the place was a nice haven to get away from the usual hustle and bustle of college. Everyone always seemed to be in a rush to either their next class or their next party, and although you weren’t a loner per se, you didn’t always feel like being in the constant lights and sounds that came with socialising. And so the library was the one place, besides your dorm, where you could have a nice piece of solitude.

Settling over the page, you gained a steady rhythm. Read about one movement, then write anecdotes as you went, taking the time to pause, re-read, and really absorb the information as much as you could. It was fascinating, and you enjoyed learning as much as you did.

By the third hour of continuous reading and note taking, your hand began to cramp, and so you decided it was time for a short break. You stood up from the desk, stretching your arms above your head, a small sigh escaping your lips as your back cracked and muscles pulled. You twisted your upper body to each side, softly grunting as you felt your back click again and again, sighing loudly as a particular pop took away an ache that had settled between your shoulders. You continued on with your languid stretches, trying to get some of the stiffness out of your body from being hunched over the desk for so long.

You wondered how much more time you should spend writing notes, or whether you could go back to your dorm and laze about on the bed. Luckily for you, you didn’t have a roommate, and were able to make the space feel much like your own. You didn’t have too much furniture, the room not allowing for it, just your essentials and a few trinkets here and there that you had collected. Your real pride and joy however, was a Peace Lily that you had saved from sure death. Now, it sat proudly on your study desk, growing dark green leaves and flowering its soft white flowers.

The idea of going back to your dorm seemed tempting, after all, you didn’t really have to be studying, and you had just recently bought the new Harry Potter book and wished to read some more of it, make a nice cup of tea, sink into your sheets and get lost into a fantasy world.

A soft jangling came from between one of the large book shelves, and soon a man peeked through. His icy blue eyes caught yours and you watched as he assessed you from where he stood, albeit awkwardly, gaze dragging up and down your body.

He was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair that sat messily atop his head. He had a sharp aquiline nose, and lips that pulled up naturally in its corners.

You recognised him from somewhere, but where you couldn't be sure.

Perhaps he was in the same classes as you?

He continued to stare at you, shirt tucked into his pants, small carabiner attached with a USB dangling from a belt loop, his tongue pushed into his cheek.

“You right?” You asked, shifting on your feet, wondering if he needed something from you.

His lips pursed as he looked at you from down his nose, “Are you?”

You furrowed your brows, “Huh?”

“You've been moaning in the back of the library like a tart.”

You bristled, “I beg your pardon?”

Who the fuck-

“Some of us are trying to study.” His arms were stiff by his sides, and before you had the chance to reply, he spun on his heel, shoes squeaking loudly in the aisles as he marched away.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, feeling angry and also slightly embarrassed about the encounter.

Had you been making a lot of noise?

You didn’t think so, especially since the library was essentially empty anyway. You had even chosen the furthest corner of the floor as well, tucked away behind rows of books and out of sight.

You sat back down at the desk and tried to continue writing notes, but instead, you found yourself feeling far too self conscious, and wondered if you were even breathing too loudly. But before you got too self critical, you remembered that the library was practically empty, and you had specifically chosen a spot the furthest away from the other three students.

If your stretching and little sighs had disturbed him, he was either hanging around your area, or had the hearing of a bat.

So after about an hours more of study attempts and a half a page more of notes, you decided to call it a night, packing away your belongings before taking the book with you, not bothering to check it out.

As soon as you got back to your dorm, you headed straight to bed, not feeling in the mood to make a cup of tea or even open your new book, no longer looking forward to enjoying yourself and settling in. Instead you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, stewing about how the man in the library had spoken to you, and vowing that if you saw him again, you'd give him a piece of your mind.

And by your luck, you did see him again.

The very next day.

You got to the library around midday, deciding that you weren’t going to do a late night of studying, deciding to have a relaxing night in to pamper yourself, maybe even watch a movie in the common rooms if the tv free, or do as you had intended the night before; a cup of tea and your book, and maybe even some ‘me’ time.

The library, despite all its windows and the suns rays peeping through, was cold, and as soon as you stepped foot into it a chill ran over you. You walked through the endless rows of books, not seeing a soul as you climbed the stairs to the second floor, dust settled into the crooks and corners of the staircases and bannisters, the smell almost overwhelming, until finally, you saw him.

He was sat in the centre of the room at one of the large study desks, multiple books opened around him as he furiously wrote down notes and equations. His head didn’t lift at the sound of your footsteps, too busy in his own little world studying for God knows what, so much so, that it was a wonder that you had even managed to disturb him the day prior, which now only seemed to fuel your anger.

You were never one to back down.

You walked straight to him, toes almost kicking the leg of the table as you looked down at his neat writing, his hand flying across the page in rapid succession, no calculator in sight despite the lengthiness of the equations.

It was impressive, you noted begrudgingly, the way he worked so swiftly, and just was you were about to gain his attention, he spoke to you, hand not once slowing as he worked.

“What do you want?”

It wasn’t rude, just as it wasn’t polite. If anything, it was abrasive, like the rough cobblestones outside, and not once did he look up at you.

It caught you off guard.

Your mouth opened and shut as you tried to think of something to say.

Was it really worth being hot headed and saying something the day after?

Would he even remember?

Or would you be embarrassing yourself further?

Ultimately you gave up, deciding that there was no point to saying anything anymore, sighing in resignation as you walked around the length of the table continuing to yours.

You got about three steps away before he spoke again.

“Remember that you’re in the library this time.”

You spun, staring daggers into the back of his head, hand gripping the strap of your bag, “What the fuck is your problem?” Your chest heaved in anger, waiting for him to turn around or answer you, but he didn’t.

The sandy haired man continued his endless equations, leaving you standing behind him as though you had spoken to a ghost. It was maddening, the rush of your blood loud in your ears drowning out the steady scratch of his pencil.

How dare he?

He was just like all the others, like every other man on campus who felt they could speak however they like at any woman as though you were beneath them.

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but was mere seconds.

Realising that you weren’t to get an answer from him, you continued on your way to your secluded little table, stomping through the aisles, your footsteps echoing loudly in the space on the wooden floor.

When you got to the table, you all but threw your bag down, the heavy textbook slamming onto the wooden surface, making a large bang.

Never in your life had you been so agitated, ripping the chair away from the desk, letting the legs scrape on the mahogany floor.

One after the other, you yanked your books out of your bag, your notebook and pens, throwing them onto the table without a care. You could feel the heat of your anger creeping up your neck and into your face, and despite your attempts to calm yourself by studying, you ended up just re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, not once absorbing it.

By the time you decided to give up, the sun had begun to set, and so you hastily scrambled to shove your things back into your bag, not even bothering to tuck your chair in softly, throwing it against the desk and storming out the way you came.

He was still in his regular spot when you stalked past him, his head turned down as he read through his notes, multiple empty chocolate wrappersw spread across the table.

“Fucking asshole.” You muttered as you walked past him, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you huffed and stormed away, hoping to find some peace in your dorm.

When you got to your dorm, you were so hungry that you began to feel sick. Realising that in your anger you had forgotten to eat, you wandered down to the pub not far from campus and got a cheap little meal, eating quietly in the corner, a telly playing a soccer game on the screen in the back.

There weren't many patrons that night, but you could hear the pool table being used in the distance, the loud clacking of the balls being sunk, drowning out the soft sound of the telly. The pub stunk of stale beer and cigarettes, ring stains on all the wooden surfaces from sweating glasses.

It was still early when you finished, and so you made the decision to check out the commons and see if a tv was free.

The night air was cold as you walked back to your dorm, your teeth chattering in your skull as you sped walked, wrapping your arms around yourself to get back into the warmth of the old building. Lights illuminated the old stone walls in a yellow light, casting shadows on the cobblestones and bare trees around you.

It would have been spooky if you weren’t used to it by now, and could understand how first years would become spooked at night alone, walking through the courtyards.

As you made your way towards the common room in your building, you couldn’t help but think about the man in the library. His sandy hair, blue eyes, sharp features and sharper mouth. Who needed a heater when you had this man to fire you up? You could almost hear his grating tone as he mocked you, his glasses shining in the library as he looked down his nose at you.

He made you feel small, unwanted. But you had worked hard to get into Oxford, and you, whether he liked it or not, had earned your place.

It wasn’t unlike the men you already knew in STEM to be somewhat assholes, especially towards women or any degrees they deemed ‘unfit’ or ‘unworthy’. You had heard many scoffs and sneers at the Arts students, or English Literature kids, especially if it was women, from the STEM boys who seemed to hoard together like a bunch of flies. Or better yet, like a Rat King, unable to break the connection between each other despite how much they fought it.

It was, to follow the pun, a rat race.

The hall was dark as you walked to the commons, but from the window of the door, you saw the tale tell sign of the telly being on. You wondered momentarily if it was anyone you knew that had stayed back, perhaps one of the girls.

Maybe you could settle down with them and watch whatever mind melting soap opera was on, and lull yourself into a stupor.

The prospect of talking to someone almost dissolved your sour mood, and by the time you opened the door, peering into the flickering light illuminated room, a small smile had begun to pull at your lips.

But that smile was short lived as your eyes met a pair of pale blue ones.

You watched as his lips pulled down in recognition of you, his head turning to look back at the telly. Your heart began to race in your chest again, the door clicking shut behind you, the soft sound of Doctor Who’s theme song filling the room, the screen reflecting off of his rectangular lenses.

It didn’t help that the small drinks you had at the pub seemed to ignite your previous disdain for the man, as well as dampening your, for a lack of a better word, cognition.

In that moment, you were at a loss of what to do. You wanted to watch tv, but the idea of being anywhere near him infuriated you. Yet, at the same time, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by leaving, indicating to him that you had given up, and that he had won.

“You going to stand there all night?” He teased cruelly, eyes not once turning back to you, locked on David Tenant as he ran through an abandoned warehouse.

You bristled, teeth grinding down against each other as you stormed past him, “Fuck you.” You dropped down onto the cushion on the other end of the couch.

From the corner of your eye, you could see his lips purse slightly, obviously hearing you.

No matter how much you tried, you could not get comfortable on the couch, and it wasn’t because the couch had a natural groove from the many people who sat in it, or the obvious stains on the covers and arms, some recognisable, others dubious, nor the permeating cigarette smell that emanated from deep within the foam, but rather because he sat all too comfortable beside you, watching a show you wished you could watch alone.

You shifted against the arm again for the umpteenth, huffing softly in the room. Your ass had fallen asleep because you sat ramrod straight and refused to relax, tucking your legs beneath you not leaning back. No matter what you did, you could not settle, body gearing up for a fight.

When you shifted again, it seemed to pull his attention away from David Tenants doctor.

“You gonna keep huffing in the corner like a baby?”

Your already fragile thread of patience snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem? Have I done something to you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him. The man sneered, leaning towards you on the couch, “My problem is vapid little cunts like you. Getting by on mummy and daddy’s money whilst the rest of us have to work to stay here. You just party and fuck each other like rats.” His cold eyes razed up and down your body, watching as your face morphed from anger to offence, and then, to rage.

You shot up from your seat, moving to stand over him as he looked up at you, face barely containing his hatred.

“I don’t have ‘mummy’s and daddy’s money’, I’m here because I worked hard to be here.” You hissed, hands clenched into fists at your sides, “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you’re friends with Felix Catton and every other vapid, useless cunt that hangs off of his every breath.” His voice lowered, hatred simmering behind his light illuminated glasses.

Your brows furrowed, “Felix and I have a class together. Assigned seating. We walk there together. If-” You straightened, looking down at him before it hit you.

A laugh of disbelief flew from your lips, and soon enough the cocksure anger melted away from his sharp features, replaced by confusion.

“Wow.” You huffed, a bitter laugh filling the air, “You’re jealous.” His eyes narrowed on you, “You’re jealous of Felix.” You watched as his mouth snapped open, “Maybe if you weren’t so-“

“-I’m not fucking jealous of those nobodies.”

Snorting, you shook your head, “Nobodies… Yet people know their name. I don’t even know who you are.”

You waited for him to give you his name, to finally tell you who this infuriating man was, the credits of Doctor Who playing in the background as you stared at each other. Your chest heaved, but all you felt looking down at him was irritation.

“Your anger is misdirected." You growled, "I thought you would be smarter than that.”

The man's jaw ticked, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I don’t.”

You turned away, suddenly drained from the whole interaction. You didn’t bother to turn back and look at him, or even say another word. You wanted to go to bed, no, needed to go to bed and get away from the man on the couch before you tore your hair out.

As you opened the common room door, his voice called out to you.

“Y/n L/n.”

The way he said your name sent goosebumps rising on your skin, each syllable pronounced slowly, as though he was savouring your name on the tip of his tongue. Your hand paused on the door as you pushed it open, looking back at him.

“And who are you?”

Before he could answer, you left, slamming the door shut behind you. You marched straight back to your room, hands in such tight fists that your nails left half crescent moons in the flesh of your palms.

You lay awake most of the evening staring at the ceiling with the interaction on your mind.

He knew you by name, even thought you were friends with Felix, and whilst you weren’t not friendly with him, you wouldn’t say you were closely acquainted. You drank at the same parties sometimes or saw him down at the pub, but the only one-on-one time you had with him was in class.

Whoever this man was, and whoever he thought you were, he was wrong. And now he was going to regret it.

You knew he would be there, in fact you betted on it, getting up extra early to go to the library to do the one thing you planned on doing that day.

Piss him off.

If there was one thing that men hate the most in the world, it was not being in control, and that was doubled if it was with a woman.

You sat at the table he always did, spreading your textbooks and papers, pens, notes, snacks, water bottle, and even IPod Nano on its surface. You had brought extra things with you today in your bag to spread across the table, some things not even needed to study, but used to take up more space and soil his little territory.

The sun had barely even risen by the time you laid it all out, but you knew it would all be worth it.

And it was, because not even fifteen minutes later, he arrived to the sight of you at his desk, humming as you looked at your notes.

His feet stopped not too far from your (his) table, watching as you met his gaze, devoid of emotion. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling, watching as he clenched his teeth in irritation.

He was almost shaking with anger.

Got you.

You kept the image of innocence, looking back down at your notes as you tapped your pen against the tables surface loudly. You could see his fists clenching in your periphery at his side, his pale green button up shirt with long beige pants shifting side to side as he stood angrily watching you.

“What are you doing?” The blonde’s voice cut through the quiet of the library, irritation evident in his tone.

You didn’t bother to look up, pen still clicking rhythmically against the table, “Hm?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Placing the pen on your page delicately, you looked up, “Pardon?”

The mans cheeks flushed an angry red as he stared down at you, lips pulling into a tight line, “Whatever you think-“

“-I’m sorry,” You interrupted him, leaning forward to look up into his eyes sweetly, “Do I know you?”

The man leant forward and sneered, “Gavey.”

“Gavey?” You titled your head, biting your lip softly in thought.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Yes.” He grit through his teeth, looking down at your spread notes and gear.

Then it came to you.

“Gavey! Michael Gavey!” You beamed up at him, leaning slightly forward on the desk.

Now you knew why he was so familiar.

“You’re the maths genius.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Anyone who had heard about Michael Gavey knew about his stellar intellect when it came to maths, and unfortunately for him, they also knew about his little antisocial outbursts, “You yelled at Oliver on O week.”

You watched with delight as the anger fell momentarily from his face, and embarrassment replaced it. You leant further forward, putting both elbows on the table as you rested your chin on your hands, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Is it true then? You can do any sum just in your head?”

If it was true, he needed to be studied by a team of scientists.

And maybe a behavioural therapist.

Michael stood taller, proud to have been recognised for this part of him as he watched you bat your eyelashes at him. His shoulders rolled back, eyes glimmering with determination behind his glasses.

Men were so easy.

You just stroke their ego a little and their guard comes down immediately.

“Ask me.” His voice was soft, confident, waiting on bated breath to show off his born skill.

You smiled, “Alright. Seven-hundred-and-eighty-nine multiplied by six-hundred-and-fifty-four.”

Without missing a beat, “Five-hundred-and-sixteen-thousand-and-six.”

“Divided by twelve.”

“Forty-three-thousand point five.”

“Times nine.”

“Three-hundred-and-eighty-seven-thousand-and-four point five.”

You leant back in your chair watching him. It was impressive, and if he wasn’t such a prick, you would have openly praised him. But you didn’t have it in you in that moment to give him anything but a lengthy stare, using the time to get a good look at his face without the sneer.

He was handsome, a long face framed nicely by his ‘devil may care’ hair. You wondered if he even bothered to brush it in the morning. The longer you looked at him the more you could see how his sharp features and soft lips would in fact get him the attention he so desperately craved, if only he wasn’t as insufferable as he was. In fact, the more you thought about it, if things had been different, perhaps you would have pursued him, maybe even asked him out for a drink.

Instead, he had made an enemy for himself, and being petty at this point was a hobby for you that you took great time and pleasure in doing, especially if it was for assholes who made the first move unwarranted.

“Hm.” You tapped your pen against the table, “How do I know it’s correct and you're not just making it up?”

This seemed to anger Gavey.

“I’m not making it up. I do the sums,” He narrowed his eyes, “In my head.”

“I don’t have a calculator to confirm this. For all I know, you could be lying.”

The anger was back, “I’m not lying. I’m never wrong.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a genius.”

“Uh huh.”

Then came the vitriol, his shoulders tensed in rage, “What would you know anything about maths? You’re a History and Philosophy major.” Michael scoffed, seeming to think that his disdain for your degree would upset you in the slightest.

You sighed loudly, pulling the earphones from your Ipod to begin putting them in your ears. You looked at him pointedly, putting a sad little smile onto your lips.

Show time.

“It’s a shame, you know.” You said sadly.

“What?” Michael responded, over-eagerly.

The earphones sat in your ears and you scrolled down to a song you wanted, letting the music begin to play loudly just to piss him off, the noise turned up high enough for him to hear the lyrics. You didn't show it, but it was too loud, and most certainly hurt your ears, yet it was worth it to see his nose scrunch up.

“That you’re a snob.” Your voice rose over the music in your ears, unable to hear anything but the loud bass line that bounced in your head, “You’re actually cute when you’re not sneering at me.” You let your eyes drop back to your page, ignoring his presence as you strummed the pen loudly against the wood of the desk, unable to hear if he responded, but also not bothered to hear him. You had ended the conversation just the way you wanted.

And it would drive him nuts.

What you hadn’t seen was his mouth opening and shutting multiple times as a blush spread across his cheeks. He stood idly by, utterly unable to produce a single word or sound bar clearing his throat. Michael disappeared from your periphery as he left to sit at the table at the end, dropping into his seat to begin his studies.

But it proved to be fruitless, because as he attempted to settle into the endless stream of equations, all he could hear behind him was the tinny sound of your music blasting from your earphones and the steady grating tap of your pen.

He tried, in vein, for over an hour to focus, before giving up and storming out of the library. It was only then when you lifted your head, smiling at his retreating figure in triumph.

I win.

Not a word had been written on your page, and not a thing had been absorbed in your head. You lowered the volume of your music, a ringing settling into your ears, before packing up your things to go back to your dorm, deciding that a job well done was deserving of some respite, and in your good mood you would actually read your book.

You spent the rest of your day and better part of your evening reading, lounging, and snacking on some chips as you snuggled into your sheets.

Being the creature of habit that you were, you ended your triumphant day going to the pub to have another cheap meal and a drink or two, spending a considerable amount of the evening chatting up another student who had also stayed behind during the break.

He was cute, and funny, and although he hinted more than once that he would like to continue your evening back in either one of your dorms, you didn’t have the energy to entertain a potentially dull night of barely there pleasure.

He smiled too wide and had too much confidence to really know what he was doing, and you felt immediately that he would be the type to get his and leave you high and dry. So you parted, promising emptily to get another pint together soon enough, though you knew it wasn’t your stellar verbal company that he wanted.

Sinking into bed that evening was an easy and pleasurable experience. You crawled into your sheets, smile on your face and victory on your tongue. Your tit-for-tat was successful, and now you could finally just focus on your work, and not the sandy haired Michael Gavey who seemed to invade your every thought.

The sun trickled through the curtains by your bed, a warm stream of light hitting your face. You woke with a stretch, body slowly waking up with the day.

You didn’t have much planned after yesterdays success, and didn’t have a want to do much at all, but there was only so much lounging in bed one could do over the many weeks of break, so you decided to go back to the library, at least for an hour to make up for yesterdays losses (despite the personal win).

You looked around your room and settled on a skirt and some tights with a turtle neck sweater, unable to find anything else as a pile of dirty clothes had slowly accumulated in the corner. You made a note to yourself to take it to the laundromat later with some coins and your book.

The walk to the library was the same monotonous one as it always was. The same stone walls, the same dark wooden detailing and floor, the occasional beautiful stained glass window, and the ever strange silence of an empty college. There was a light layer of frost on the grass outside, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it would snow. The trees were bare except for a handful of orange and brown leaves, hanging on for dear life, or perhaps, holding on with dead fingers.

Rigor mortus of the petiole.

The steps creaked beneath your feet as you made your way up to your usual spot, the library cold as it always was, causing you to wish you had brought a warmer jacket with you. When you got to the landing, you expected to see him, sandy hair, glasses slipping down his sharp nose, hunched over the same textbook as he wrote out his equations with dizzying speed, but the tables were empty, and the aisles were barren, and all that was in the library was you.

Briefly you wondered for a moment if something has happened to him. Had he gotten sick? Too ill to crawl out of bed, laying in his sheets with a fever and no one to comfort him?

You frowned at the thought.

Why did you care?

His ego was likely too bruised to show his face, and was hidden in another alcove or other smaller library somewhere else, or perhaps even in his room.

Maybe he even had friends, and decided to spend the day with them, likely another student in STEM.

You could have sworn you saw him and Oliver Quick in the pub one night together.

You walked past his empty table and continued down the end to where your little nook was, grazing your fingers along the spines of the books as you went. Each ridge another spine, each spine another thousand upon thousand of words that had been read, dissected, and rewritten by many a student. You liked to think about how many hands had touched the pages, how many eyes had skimmed the words, how many bags, beds, tables, couches, cars or trains they had been in over the years, and how many times you had read them, or held them in the same spot.

You emerged from the isles to your nook.

It was not what you had expected that morning.

Certainly not what you had expected any morning come to think of it, but even so, your steps halted and your heart began to quicken, anger slowing creeping up your neck, heating your face.

He was sat at your table.

Your table.

His glasses had slid down almost to the tip of his nose, a long slender finger daintily pushing them back up to the bridge, lips pouted in their natural pout as his hand flew about his notes, writing equation after equation in a speed that would intimidate even Einstein. Michaels hair was disheveled, as though he had run his hand through it multiple times, as he contemplated the pros and cons of sitting there.

He must have landed on the pros.

“What are you doing.” You bit out, an irritating sense of dejavu seeping into your bones.

Michael didn’t look up at you, your feet almost pushing through the floor, anger rooting you in place.

“Hm?” Came his noncommittal reply.

It set you off.

“You’re in my seat.” You hissed, swiftly stepping towards him.

The light from the window beside him cast shadows across half his face as he looked up at you, he sucked his teeth loudly, “Your seat?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” His head dipped back down to his notes, his blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as his hand continued to write, “This is a public library. It’s a public seat.”

You stormed forward dumping your bag atop his hand, his pencil scraping across his notes on the paper, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His jaw ticked, steely blue eyes flicking to where you dumped your heavy bag atop his notes and own text book.

“I’m sorry, I’m not tutoring on break.” His tone all too demeaning as he over pronounced each word.

Your hands slammed down onto the desk as you leant forward towards his face, “I don’t need a tutor and you know it, you miserable little cunt.” Anger boiled inside of you, building and building, ready to burst.

Michael bristled, “Who the f-“

“-Oh, fuck you, Michael. You’re a miserable piece of shit, thinking you’re above everybody else, sneering at anyone who dares to be happy. I’ve seen you, always sulking about in the shadows because no one can stand to be around you.”

The silence was almost deafening.

Oh God.

That was a low blow.

You had taken it too far.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very guilty, “Michael,” You started, “That was-“

A pale hand lifted in front of your face, the man standing almost near silently in front of you. He went from below you, to towering above in a split second, his sheer size double your own. He stared down his sharp nose at you with a look of contempt, the rage behind his eyes flickering with barely held restraint.

“Do you want to know what I think?” His voice was low, lower than you had ever heard it go, emotion almost drained entirely from it except an icy edge which sent the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

You stayed silent, watching as he stepped away from the desk, chair scraping on the wood to come towards you slowly, your heart beating like a drum behind your ribs.

Though you could step back, his eyes kept you glued to where you were, head craned up to look at him as he came closer, the tension in his jaw growing with every passing second.

It was unnerving, and everything within told you to run, but something made you stay.

Call it guilt.

Or intrigue.

His hand dropped to his side, slow, calculated steps coming closer, each one as silent as the next as his cheek twitched whilst looking you over.

“I think,” He began, a foot away from you, voice low, “That you’re just desperate enough to accept the scraps that they give you, because you fear if you don’t,” Another step, taking him toe-to-toe with you, “That you’ll be a nobody like me.”

Your mouth became dry, lips slightly parted as a tinge of hurt spread through your chest.

You shook your head faintly, “I don’t think you’re a nobody.”

A brow lifted, “You called me a nobody.”

“I was wrong.”

“Wrong because it was hurtful? Or wrong because you have more in common with me than you do with them.”

You shook your head, “Why is it always about them?”

“It is always,” He sneered, “About them. I have watched you take what little you can get from them like a beggar. Talking to Felix in the hallways, doing his homework for him, smiling at him like a dolt.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve seen you.” His shoe bumped against yours as he leant forward, “You’re nothing to them. How long was it before they even learnt your name?”

“Stop it.” You whispered, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Michaels head tilted, “Why? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not.”

The sandy haired man clicked his tongue at you, head tilting, “You and I both know that’s not the truth, is it? What did Farleigh call you again?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek, leaving a wet track in its path. Your lip wobbled as you tried to keep your composure.

You didn’t know how he knew.

You didn’t know how he could have known what Farleigh had said to you that night, drinking in the pub together.

You hadn’t even meant to join them, but their table grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed your own and soon enough they were buying you shots. It was never a regular thing, you were never quite in the circle, but not quite out of it either. More-so lingering in the nothingness of neither here nor there.

Michael looked at you pityingly, not in a way where he held empathy for you because of it, but in a way where he pitied you for being the way you were. It was demeaning. Cold.

Detached.

“Parvenu.” His lips pronounced each syllable slowly, darkly, and it made you ache.

Another tear fell as you took a sharp intake of breath, sniffling roughly.

Shame built inside of you.

It was humiliating to relive that moment, let alone with Michael. And now that you knew he had witnessed or heard it, you wondered who else may have been there to hear Farleigh’s degrading comment and snort of a laugh followed. The way he would raise his brows at you the rest of the night as if to say ‘See? You don’t belong here, and we can all see it’, ‘We let you here because we can’.

“I don’t understand-“

Michael interrupted you, "-You let them walk all over you, and for what? Parties and accolades?” The corners of his lips turned downwards, “They don’t even respect you. Do they know that you’ve stayed behind on break alone? Do you think they’ll think of you in their mansions? Do you think Felix would ever-“

“-You talk about them as if they’re irredeemable, but they’ve been far nicer to me than you have.” Another tear fell, and your stomach tied itself in knots.

The anger seemed to simmer in his eyes, “They don’t deserve you.”

Your brows pulled down in confusion, “What?”

“You let them use you, chasing after their fleeting affections. It’s pathetic.”

Anger began to simmer inside of you, “Pathetic? You know what’s pathetic?” You leaned up on your toes, “The fact that you have so clearly been watching me, and everything that I do, and not once have you tried to be my friend. Do you know what’s pathetic?” Your voice began to rise, heat inside of you rising with it, “Your anger and hatred of them clearly stems from jealously and embarrassment because they would never talk to-“

Your eyes widened in shock, his lips crashing against yours as he yanked you forward, hand at the back of your head pulling you in tightly. You were so in shock, you didn’t know what to do, standing stiffly in his arms as the other circled your waist and pulled you against him.

It only took a second for your brain to come to with what was happening, your eyes sliding shut as you kissed him back roughly, all teeth and vitriol as you bit the soft flesh of his lips roughly. He hissed, pulling you closer, your feet stumbling against his as he backed you towards the wall of books beside the desk.

Your spine hit the shelf roughly as he shoved you back, both of you panting before you grabbed his shirt angrily, yanking him back towards you. You were so furious, so almost feral that you needed this more than you would have thought.

There was something about him, something about him that made you want to pull your hair out and also sit on his face to silence him.

His kisses weren’t skilled, but they were filled with passion as his teeth clashed against yours, a fight for dominance ensuing as you let a hand slide up into his hair and pull. A grunt came from deep within his chest as you yanked at the roots cruelly, hoping it would hurt him. Heat built in your gut rapidly, the need for him growing stronger with each passing second.

The hand on your waist slid down further, pulling up your skirt as his fingers pressed against your clothed core. You gasped into his mouth, hips thrusting forward from the pressure. With the other hand disappearing from the back of your head, it met the other between your legs, hooking into the gusset of your tights before you heard a loud rip, cold air immediately hitting your core.

You gasped loudly, Michael taking advantage as he slid his tongue into your mouth, flicking it upwards against the back of your teeth. He tasted faintly like chocolate, and it was a taste that you didn’t mind at all. His fingers immediately sought out your centre, sliding impatiently between your folds to gather the wetness from your entrance.

His movements were sloppy, yet focused, drawing it up to your clit as he rubbed fierce circles into it that bordered on painful. You nipped his bottom lip harshly again, yanking his head back and away from you to look at his face as two long digits circled your entrance.

The pupils of his eyes were enlarged, almost swallowing the blue of his iris whole. His cheeks were flushed a dusty pink, and lips a deep red after your bites. The glasses upon his face were slightly skewed and lightly fogged, the hair atop his head sticking up in different directions from your rough handling. You didn’t even get to observe him for longer before he roughly shoved the two fingers inside.

“Fuck.” You hissed, back arching towards him, shoulders roughly pushing into the bookshelf.

A mean smirk pulled on his lips as he crooked his fingers against the front of your walls, quickly thrusting his hand in and out with dizzying speed. Your breath caught in your throat, brows pulled down as you looked at him, low whine falling from your lips.

“So wet already.” Michael teased, thumb lightly brushing your pearl, a spark of intense pleasure shooting up you.

You pulled his head back towards you, moaning into his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of your arousal loud in the both of your ears. Michael pulled up one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, the cold metal of his carabiner pressing sharply into your inner thigh. Pleasure began to wind tightly in your gut, his long fingers reaching parts of you, your own couldn’t.

Panting against his mouth, your hand flew behind you to grip one of the wooden shelves, elbow bumping against the spines of the books.

His pace never once faltered, all those hours of quick equations all day boosting his hand strength and stamina. You were surprised that he even knew what he was doing, but the questions floated aimlessly in the back of your mind, not quite sticking.

Your nails dug into the wood of the shelf, hand falling from his hair to his shoulder as your head fell backwards against the shelf, your peak barreling towards you.

“S’close. Please.” You whined, rolling your hips into his hand.

A mean laugh broke your peace, his fingers pulling out of you sharply, preventing you from reaching your release. Your eyes flew open, brows furrowed in frustration as you looked at him, smug smirk on his lips as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on the arousal soaked digits.

You moaned weakly looking at him as he did it, hips rolling towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you again. Michael lips pouted at you as he pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

“Touch me.” You breathed, pulling him towards you with your leg, the zipper of his cargo pants pressing against you sharply. You sighed, rubbing your centre against his pants, a wet patch no doubt beginning to stain the front of them.

“So desperate.” He cooed at you, your core clenching at his words as your eyes fluttered.

The hand that had been inside of you quickly made its way to the front of his pants, the other joining as he hastily undid his belt, not pulling it through the loops, followed by his button and zipper. Michael hastily reached into his pants and pulled out his hardened length, the tip pink and weeping, veins crawling up the sides.

You swallowed thickly as you looked down.

Oh shit.

Michael was very well endowed.

You didn’t know what shocked you more, the fact that he had such a sizeable cock, or how he thrust it up into you without warning. The stretch was bordering painful and you cried out loudly, Michaels hand slapping across your mouth to stifle the sound.

“Quiet.” He hissed, pushing in to the hilt, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. Your eyes screwed shut as you whined into his palm, your walls struggling to accommodate him as he slowly pulled out, each vein and ridge catching on your inner walls deliciously.

The slow heat inside of you began to build once more.

Michael thrust into you sharply, your head banging against the back of the shelves as he kept his hand against your mouth, the other holding your hip against him. He set a brutal pace, fucking into your slick walls without abandon as he chased his own pleasure, punching the air out of your chest.

“Fuck.” He hissed, forehead pressing against your own as he looked down to where you were joined, the leg you stood on stretched on your tippy toe to meet his height as he fucked you, “Your cunt is fucking tight.”

“Mmm.” You moaned, eyes slipping shut as the coil within your gut began to wind rapidly, each brutal thrust stretching you wide against him with painful pleasure.

“You gonna cum?” He panted, his eyes shutting behind his glasses that slid down his nose, “Can feel you squeezing my cock. Fuck.”

You nodded desperately beneath his hand, eyes opening to meet his steely gaze as he pulled his head back to watch you, the book shelf creaking as he fucked you against it.

You were so close, so fucking close.

“Go on.” He commanded, “Cum on my cock like a little slut.”

Your core clenched around him, blinding white pleasure coursing through you as you came, his hand falling from your mouth as you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the library.

“Shit, fuck. I’m gonna-“ Michael’s thrusts stuttered as a long moan burst from his lips, the warmth of his cum filling you.

You whined, hands gripping his hair as you crashed your lips against his, kissing him lazily as you both panted, his cock throbbing inside of you as your walls squeezed every last drop from him.

Michael pushed as deep as he could go, the warmth of his cum beginning to leak around the base and down your thighs as you pulsed around him. Your mind was blank, fuzzy warmth spreading through your limbs in a soporific manner. He broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at you, glasses slightly foggy.

You searched his eyes and his face before a smile cracked on your lips. Michael mirrored it with a lopsided grin, huffing as he breathed out deeply.

Feeling a burst of confidence, you let a hand brush between your legs, swiping some of his cum that had dripped onto your thigh up to your mouth. You licked it off your finger slowly, opening your mouth to let him see the mess on your tongue before swallowing.

Michael’s adams apple bobbed, his cock twitching inside of you, “Fucking hell.”

You huffed another laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself as well as you on his tongue. He hummed loudly, dropping your leg to cradle your head in his hands.

When you broke away once more, you couldn’t help but notice the glaringly obvious.

Michael Gavey just fucked you in the library.

His tongue wet his lips as he looked at you, “Was that good?” A beat, “For you?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, “You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence began to stretch between the two of you before you shifted your hips, Gavey took the hint and slowly slid from your walls, causing you to whimper from the overstimulation. He tucked himself into his pants as you righted yourself, looking down at the gaping hole in the gusset of your tights.

“Well this will be an interesting walk home.” You mused, a hum of a laugh tickling the back of your throat.

Michael snorted, “Made quite the mess.”

“You did.”

Michael smirked, “It wasn’t all me now. I can’t take all the blame.”

You let your skirt drop, smoothing it down as you stepped away from the bookcase, looking back up at him.

“I suppose not. There was effort on both ends here.”

“There was.”

You nibbled at your lip, the unspoken words just at the tip of your tongue, “Michael-“

“-27. We’re in the same block.” His eyes searched yours.

Room 27? Why-

“Did you want to get a drink?” Michael blurted, shifting on his feet awkwardly as though you hadn't just fought and angrily fucked against a bookshelf.

You looked at him closely. There was no sign of insincerity in his eyes.

He was offering an olive branch.

You let a smile wash over your face, enjoying how his own came to match it.

“Sure."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

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#Michael Gavey x reader #Michael Gavey x y/n #Michael Gavey #Saltburn #michael Gavey fanfic #michael Gavey smut #Saltburn fanfic #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fic #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #michael gavey fanfic #Michael gavey oneshot #saltburn #michael gavey saltburn

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clemswinecorner · 2 months ago

Text

Getting caught 4+1 - [Arthur Frederick (TV)]

Summary: Getting caught 4 + 1 (or, 4 times Arthur an Y/N almost accidentally revealed their relationship, and the one time they did)

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: sexual innuendos and alcohol, other than that it's fine

Not based on but the first part was inspired by this arthur fic! As well as prompts from the amazing @creativepromptsforwritinghttps that I always love <33 It's a bit of a longer one so sit down and enjoy, I hope you guys like this!

Main Masterlist

It was at their friends' house-warming, Chris’ initiative, when they had their first scare of getting caught.

Arthur and Y/N had been mingling around for a bit before making their relationship official a little over a month before, just days before Y/N left for a few weeks in Italy. Y/N was standing in front of their friends' house with a bottle of gin and a small plant as Chris opened the door with a smile. “Hey! How’s it going?” He asks as he hugs the twenty-four-year-old. “Good, good. Congrats on the new place, by the way, have you and the boys been settling in alright?” She asks as she makes her way inside. “Yeah, it’s different from before, but I’m getting used to it,” he admits as she hands him the gifts. “Oh, I got you some decoration, and something nice for tonight or whenever,” she explains, and he thankfully smiles. “Ah, thank you so much, that’s lovely! You can put your jacket in the closet right there.” He motions to a closet door as she takes off her jacket, which she hangs up. “I’m glad you could make it tonight, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! We need to plan a proper catch-up soon,” she chuckles as they make their way to the living room. “That’s what you get when you decide to be busy right when I come back from four weeks in Italy, mate. But yes, we need to arrange something. Oh, I love the posters, by the way!”

Chris doesn’t realise why the jumper she’s wearing looks familiar until Arthur walks into the living room. “Wait, doesn’t Arthur have a hoodie just like this?” He asks, interrupting their chat about beers. Her eyes grow a little wide as she looks down at the hoodie she’s wearing, that is clearly Arthur’s. She was in a rush before leaving, as usual, and pulled on the first hoodie she saw, thinking she wouldn’t need it indoors anyway, not considering it wouldn’t be as crowded when she arrived. “Oh, really? I just got this the other day, I had no clue! That's so funny,” she says, half a beat too late, which was just long enough for Chris not to notice. “Yeah, I mean, I guess it makes sense for you to have the same style a bit since you’re a bit alike, although your clothing isn’t that similar,” she simply shrugs, as she glances at Arthur. He was wearing a Fellas hoodie — the one she desperately took off him less than 24 hours ago. He looks her way as he’s making his way around greeting people, arriving at the couch soon enough. Chris stands up and greets him as they have a quick conversation as she stands up and straightens her skirt. “Hi, nice to see you again. How was Italy?” He asks, and she giggles as they hug. “Like you don’t know,” she whispers, making him chuckle, before she answers. Chris softly touches her shoulder, “I’m gonna go and socialise a bit, we’ll plan something proper, yeah?” She nods, “Yeah, yeah, go ahead, they’re your guests!” She exclaims. “Don’t hide and play chess, have some fun, yeah?” He pats Arthur’s back with a chuckle before moving over, making his old friend roll his eyes before turning back to his girlfriend. “We almost got caught, he rec-,” the girl stops her sentence as she notices George Clarke making his way to the pair. “Yeah, I’ll send you the name for when you go to Rome,” she mentions, as George joins them. “Hello friends! Y/N, it’s been forever, how are you doing!” She smiles as she embraces her friend, “It has been! Good, good, good, lovely place you have! How’s everything going?”

As they make conversation and drink, Arthur and Y/N keep locking eyes. She smiles shyly when he nonchalantly bites his lips, and leans against the back couch. God, that’s fucking hot. George leaves to get more drinks, as they were all about half a drink away from being tipsy, and she immediately scoots closer to her boyfriend. “We almost got caught. Chris noticed the jumper,” she quietly says, as he puts his arm on the back of the couch besides her, looking at her intensely. “Hmm, did he,” he says absent-mindedly. She glances around and stands up, her hand softly grazing his leg. “If George asks, I’m going to the bathroom. You can find me on Chris’ balcony,” she says, low enough for no-one to hear. His eyes follow her as she walks away, and he takes the last sip of his drink as she makes her way around the corner to go up the stairs. “Where’d she go?” George asks, interrupting his, admittedly not very faithful, thoughts. He coughs, “Bathroom. Thanks,” He says, accepting the drink George made him. “Ah. They’re playing Beer Pong in the kitchen, d’you wanna join?” He asks, and Arthur shakes his head. “Not today, but you can go. I’ll let Y/N know when she gets back,” he simply says, and George nods. “Alright, alright,” he simply says before leaving the twenty-eight-year-old to sit by himself.

“Well, hello,” She turns around at Arthur’s soft voice with a smile as he closes the door to the balcony. “Hey baby. How was the meeting?” She asks, and he shrugs. “It was alright. Would’ve rather stayed in bed with you this morning, though,” his comment makes her cheeks flush red. How this man still had her feeling like a girl with a school crush was incredible, but she loved it. “You have me now,” she says, Arthur putting one hand on her wrist, the other around her waist pulling her closer. “Wish I didn’t have to share you, though,” he says when their faces are mere inches apart, pressing his lips to hers. Despite having seen each other every day since, they craved each other as much as they did when he picked her up at the airport after four weeks of not seeing each other. “Do we go back inside before us being gone becomes suspicious, or…” Arthur shakes his head, “no, I’m keeping you to myself for a little longer.”

The second time they almost get caught they were in a similar setting, though this time the party was George’s.

It was their six months anniversary, and although they didn’t necessarily want to celebrate every single anniversary, they did tend to spend every 10th of the month together. They’d much rather be cuddled up with some comfort food with a movie on the background, simply enjoying each other’s company and chats — instead, they found themselves chatting to friends as they’re waiting to go home tipsy. She’d asked before they left, getting ready at Arthur’s flat after ordering in. “Are you actively drinking tonight?” She turns away from the mirror doing her makeup for a second to look at Arthur rummaging through his closet. “I mean, I don’t think I want to get too drunk. Maybe if we don’t make it too late we can come back here, maybe have a drink by ourselves to celebrate half a year?” You nod, “Yeah, sounds perfect. Just a few drinks, I would like to get to enjoy you tonight,” she smirks, and he sends her a smile through the mirror. “Oh! Before you get dressed, I got you something,” he realises, quickly getting out of his room. He returns with a pink and white striped bag, “just something small,” he says, a bit flushed. She looks up at him before she takes out the wrapped present, and looks at him with a sly smile, “Ohhh this is exactly the right colour. Oh my god that’s so nice,” She smiles as she takes out the lingerie, and looks at him nervously smiling. “Is it good? I didn’t know if you’d like the model,” She nods, “yeah, yeah. It’s so beautiful,” she says, moving towards him. “Suits you,” he whispers as he grabs her hips. She chuckles, putting her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you,” she says, giving him a kiss. “I was going to take you out to dinner today, but you know… We’ll do that somewhere this week.”

She's simply chatting with George, pulling down her shirt to show her tan they were talking about. “Wait, did you get that bra from Arthur?” He chuckles, and her eyes go wide. “What? Why’d you think that?” She asks confused. “I swear he bought something in the colour just like that, he said his sister needed it to be picked up in London so he picked it up for her,” She quickly shakes her head in denial. “No, I got this for Christmas last year. Don’t know why Arthur would give me it,” She explains, and he looks at over at him and back at her. “Hmm, I don’t know, either,” he says suspiciously, taking another sip of his drink before she swiftly changes the conversation topic. “Oh, I saw you did the Sidemen video we were talking about before I left, how was it?”

Y/N nudges Arthur as she sits down next to him on the couch, “Want to explain why George knew about the bra?” She asks. He looks up from his phone in surprise, “What?!” He asks, and she giggles. “He said, and I quote, ‘Did you get that bra from Arthur?’, because you bought it when he was there,” She explains, and he chuckles. “Yeah, I did buy it when he was there. Wait, no, actually, why did he even see it?!” He asks in surprise. “We were talking about tanning and I showed him my tan line, so he saw the bra strap,” Arthur nods suspiciously at the explanation. “Uh-huh. Well, I won’t buy it when George is there next time. And you shouldn’t show him your bra!” She jokingly rolls her eyes, “I wasn’t just showing my bra!” Arthur laughs at her reaction and looks back at her with a smile. “Hmm. Well, I do want to see it. Should we go?” She looks down at the time. They’d been here for about three and a half hours, and it seemed socially acceptable to leave. “Yeah. I’ll grab my bag, and we go say goodbye.”

The third time, was the closest it ever got, at the Sidemen anniversary party.

They were glad it wasn’t someone already suspecting something, because if it was the couple definitely would’ve been found out. It wasn’t even a special evening to them, they’d already spend the entire week together and wanted to treat it as a casual night out with friends. It was going to be a fun occasion to get drunk, but Arthur knew that idea was thrown out the window when he saw her in a casual-chic black dress that suited her way too perfectly. He was glad the other boys weren’t there yet when he arrived at her place, where the group had agreed to meet, because he was just too stunned to speak. He was wearing a matching black shirt, with some casual white pants underneath. God, he looked insanely hot in it, and Y/N couldn’t help but voice the thought the second he took off his jacket. The rolled up sleeves, the two top buttons open, the little bit of chest — this outfit was really doing it for her. The same could be said about Arthur, who couldn’t keep himself away from her, constantly whispering compliments, touching her dress or staring at her. It was a dangerous game they were playing that evening, and they knew it all too well.

The party was very much going when they both had to use the bathroom, and they walked through the crowd holding hands. The bathrooms were not in the view from the dance floor, in a seemingly deserted hallway. So when Y/N had come back from the bathroom to Arthur just standing there, on his phone, she couldn’t resist. He looks up at the sound of her walking over, “You look so god-damn handsome,” she expresses, fixing his collar. “You look just as beautiful,” he says, softly grabbing her waist. He shamelessly scans her body for the umpteenth time that evening, and she simply looks at him, grinning. She gets closer to his face, making him gulp. “We make a hot looking couple, don’t we?” She questions, and he nods in response. “We sure do,” he lowly whispers, feeling her breath. Unable to resist any longer, he pulls her closer, pressing his lips on hers. The entire evening full of tension waiting to be released was felt as they passionately kissed each other. All they want is to pull each other as close as physically possible, only pausing to take a quick breath. Arthur has just turned them around, pressing her against the wall as a form of support, when they hear a cough. “Oh, sorry guys, sorry, sorry!” She gasps as she hears Harry’s voice, moving away from Arthur the second she hears the door lock. “Oh my god,” she says, and she looks at Arthur, who seems a bit stunned. “I forgot this wasn’t just an abandoned hallway, oh my god. Should I go in to like, talk to him?” She bites her lip as she fixes her dress. “Hmm, don’t bring it up, and if he didn’t recognise you, you didn’t see a thing. If he did see you, act like I’m a random influencer. And in the worst case scenario that he saw me too… He’ll keep quiet. I hope.” Lucky for them, all Harry asked Arthur is if he also saw a couple making out in the hallway, to which he said no.

The fourth time was perfectly avoidable, if they hadn't been in the same room.

Sharing a room during the friend group skiing trip was a bad idea. They knew that. But George and Chris were sharing a room, and Harry and Will were, it was a logical thing. It would be, at least, if Y/N hadn’t always been the one to get the room for one, being the only girl or non-girlfriend. But they’d been careful, and all the previous close calls were long enough ago that it wouldn’t look suspicious. Right?

Arthur and Y/N had gone back to the lodge directly after dinner, tired from the long day of snowboarding after a late night filled with drinking games. They took a nice long shower in their en-suite bathroom — realistically their only time together without the lingering thought of one of their friends being able to hear. Whilst the rest was still partying in one of the ski huts, they decided to crawl into bed, watching a movie. They figured their friends would be back late enough for them to have gone to bed, so it wasn’t a surprise that they were already asleep when their friends got back. They’d come back around 11PM, surprised to find the living room area abandoned. “Have they gone to bed already?” Will asks, and Harry simply shrugs. “Y/N especially was pretty tired, I wouldn’t be surprised,” George expresses, and the rest of the boys agree. “Yeah, but Arthur too?” Chris simply shrugs, too tired to care. “You can go check on them, if you’re worried, but they’ll probably just show up by the morning either way,” Harry says, sitting down on the couch. “Hmm. I’m going to change, I’ll just check and see if they’re not kidnapped, or doing something I don’t want to see,” he jokes, making the other boys chuckle. Since they’d confirmed the rooms together, there’d been an ongoing joke about how long it would take for them to get off together— oblivious to how long they’d been doing that already. “For your own wellbeing, knock,” Chris calls after him, as the northerner walks up the stairs. Walking past their room, he softly knocks, not hearing any response. He opens the door and looks into the room to see the pair cuddled up, Y/N’s against Arthur’s chest and their arms intertwined. He recognises Arthur’s laptop on what looks to be Y/N’s night stand, and chuckles. Will didn’t want to assume anything, of course, so he decided not to. He quietly closes the door before walking to his own room. “They were sleeping already, both of them,” is all he tells the other boys.

When they finally get found out, it still comes as a shock, despite the ongoing joke.

Although Will didn’t tell anyone how he’d caught them in bed together during the skiing trip, the joke kept going. It had become the name of a group chat, they were constantly gossiping and were just waiting for the pair, who realistically didn’t show any signs of dating each other, to announce their relationship. They were so invested, that when they finally discover they were, in fact, in a relationship, it was almost like the boys were the ones that got caught.

It was about a month after the skiing trip, and they had all gathered in Chris, George and Arthur Hill’s shared flat before a night out. Arthur and Y/N were in Chris’ bedroom getting ready, whilst the others were in the living room having drinks. “Have you noticed they keep talking about us?” He asks her, and she laughs, “Oh my god yeah. Their group chat is named Arthur&Y/N fans,” she exclaims, putting on her necklace. “It’s so funny, they really think we don’t realise they keep gossiping about us whilst they actually have no clue what’s actually going on,” he chuckles, walking over to help her out. “I know. Should we just, like, act like we’ve told them? And then watch them be confused,” she says, as he clicks the necklace together. “Thank you,” she softly expresses, and his hands move down, head leaning on her shoulder. “Ahh, yeah, that’d be hilarious. Imagine their reaction when we say we’ve been together for a year now,” he says, kissing her cheek. She giggles, looking at them in the mirror they were standing in front of. “It’s been the best year. I love you,” She turns her head to give him a kiss. “And I love you,” he says, pulling back. “Okay, we should make our way out there, or they will actually think we fucked.”

They make their way back to the living room separately, her going to the bathroom first. When she’s come back, they’re all gathered on and around the couch, playing a game of never have I ever. “Never have I ever… Kissed someone in this room on the lips,” Will says, making the group laugh. George and Arthur Hill raise their glass to each other before both taking a sip, and Chris looks up thinking. “Surely we have at some point, like, Maddie’s party?” Arthur asks Chris, reminding him of their days in Jersey. “Oh yeah, for sure,” he says laughing at the memory, the both of them taking a sip. As they discuss whether Stephen and Will’s accidental touching of lips counts, Y/N giggles, taking a sip. Only Arthur sees it, having kept an eye on her, and smirks as Will and Stephen take a sip. “Okay, next one. Drink if you’ve been on a date in the past week,” George asks, and Chris groans. “You’re targeting me,” he says, taking another sip of his drink, making George laugh. Arthur also takes a sip, making the boys look at him. “And who have you been out on a date with, Mr. Television?” He shrugs. “I went to a museum with the girl I’ve been going out with,” he simply says, not elaborating any further, even as the rest are looking at him expectantly. They all share a confused look as Y/N mumbles to herself. “Oh, was it this week? I guess it counts huh,” she takes a sip, which only Arthur Hill, sitting next to her, notices. He nudges her, “You went on a date? With who?” She nods, “Hmm. With my boyfriend,” she casually says, and he looks at her shocked. “Your what?! Am I the last one to find out about this?“ She shakes her head, “No, one of the first. D’you need another drink?” Arthur shakes his head in confusion as she stands up and walks to the kitchen. She looks over to see most of them still had a drink. “Harry, another one?” She asks, holding up a beer bottle. “Uh yes, please,” she grabs another one, already opening it for him. She grabs one of the vodka-sprites her boyfriend was drinking, and hands him the can before handing Harry his beer and sitting back down. “I reckon we do that card game from last week and then go? Get us a bit further but doesn’t take too long,” Chris suggests, and they all agree. “Oh, I have the cards in my room, sorry, I’ll get them.”

When they’re all getting ready to leave the house, they’re all a bit more tipsy, everyone moving around grabbing their stuff. “Do you still have my keys?” Y/N asks Arthur, who’s chatting with Harry. “Oh, yeah, sorry,” he says, grabbing them from his pocket. “No, it’s fine, just wanted to be sure I hadn’t lost them. Do I need to keep yours in my bag?” She asks, and he nods, “Yes, please.” She naturally grabs his keys from his jacket, taking the typical girlfriend role of keeping his stuff. “What if you guys lose each other, and you can’t give him his keys?” Harry wonders, and they look at each other with a giggle. “We’re going home together, so we won’t leave without each other either way,” she explains, and Harry nods in understanding, but then looks between them as the implications catch up with him. Before he can say anything, they’ve both walked off doing their own things. Y/N goes to the bathroom, walking back to Arthur when she's done. “Excited to go out?” She asks, as he hands her his jacket. “Yeah, I am, it’s been a while. It’s cold out, wear it. I know you didn't bring anything and I have my hoodie,” She takes it with a sigh, “Fine. Thank you,” she says, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. She grabs his hand, and they walk to the kitchen, where most of the guys are, grabbing a drink for on the go. “Where are we going, actually?” She asks the group as she opens her canned cocktail. “We’ll be walking to Cuckoo’s and see if any of the places there are anything exciting today,” Chris says, and she nods, “cool,” before turning to her boyfriend again. “Are we going to yours then? We could just walk instead of taking an Uber to mine,” she softly asks him. His hand his on her back as he looks down at her, “Yeah, that’s fine,” he says as she leans against him, looking at all their friends chatting. “Are we actually waiting for anyone?” She thinks out loud, looking around the group. “Just George and Harry going to the bathroom, I think,” she nods as she makes her way over to the door, sitting down to put on her sneakers. Arthur gives her a hand and she stands up, quickly thanking him with a kiss. George looks around the group of guys, all too stunned to speak. “I wasn’t the only one that saw that, right?” Will shakes his head. “No, what’s going on there, mate?” He asks, whilst Arthur Hill points at the couple. “So he IS the boyfriend!” He exclaims, making the pair blush lightly. “Right, okay, well. Did you guys just start dating, or?” Chris asks curiously, and Y/N rolls her eyes. “We know you’ve bet on it, and you’ve all lost, so I reckon we get the money. Unless anyone bet on before the skiing trip?” She asks, and they all shake their heads. All the guys have similar facial expressions, a combination of shock and getting caught. Will is the first to speak up, “so, how long have you been dating, then? Because I saw you all cuddly during the skiing trip, but I didn’t want to assume,” he admits, and Arthur looks at her with a sheepish grin. He puts his arm around her pulling her closer, “Well, we’ve been together for a year, next week,” he casually says, and chaos ensues. All sorts of surprised expressions come out, mixed with words of betrayal such as “how could you do this” and excitement. “A year ago, so that’s… Wait, you weren’t together before we lived here, were you?” Chris wonders. “Well… We got together just before I went away to Milan for a month, so you were about to move in,” Y/N explains, and he nods. “Fuck, that’s a while, oh my god,” Y/N and Arthur simply laugh at all their friends’ reactions. “Wait wait wait, at the Sidemen party, when I saw those people kissing, was that actually just you?” Harry asks, and Arthur scratches his head whilst Y/N looks down in embarrassment. “Yeah, we honestly thought you saw us,” Arthur admits, cheeks turned red as Harry laughs. “Okay, enough of us, let’s go,” Y/N says, opening the door. She grabs Arthur’s hand, pulling him with her, and the rest of the guys all follow them laughing. “Don’t think this is it, we need the details!!”

#arthur tv #arthur frederick #arthur tv x reader #arthurtv #arthur tv fic #arthurtv x reader #arthurtv imagines #uk youtube

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struggling-with-drivers · 1 year ago

Text

Nothing's New - Charles Leclerc

⋗ pairing - Charles Leclerc x female!reader, (Carlos Sainz jr x ex-best friend!reader)

⋗ summary - You're tired of Carlos's treatment of you as his friend, and when you get into a fight, Charles is there to pick up the pieces

⋗ word count - 6.3k words, fluff, hurt/comfort

⋗ masterlist - this was fun to write, I hope y'all enjoy my f1 fic on here, feedback and reblogs are appreciated

It has been as obvious as the sun, right since you two met. You're utterly and truly in love with Carlos, your older brother's friend. Then after a winter that had your families vacationing to a skiing place, Carlos became your best friend. A string of unfortunate events – or fortunate in your mind – had led to you and Carlos sharing a cabin, just the two of you. If you were smitten with him before, this was the turning point where you realised your crush had bloomed to love.

And well, you weren't exactly subtle about it. Carlos knew, and would never admit to having a hand in at least getting your brother lodged in a different cabin. A bit of bribery had made him create the perfect opportunity to spend time with you alone.

This was the winter that Carlos turned from your brother's friend to your best friend. Although, in Carlos's eyes, you were still just a friend, sure a newly acquired good friend. But just a friend. Because he realised very quickly that you would do practically anything for him, hearts in your eyes as you walked to the shed in the freezing cold to get logs for the fire. All the while Carlos stayed nice and cosy inside. Sipping on the hot chocolate you had made.

It made him realise that keeping you at just an arm's length would be a good thing. He once texted you if you wanted to come by with an umbrella because he knew you were in the area. You weren't, and Carlos was aware you weren't even in the same city. Yet there you were after his meeting waiting for him with an umbrella, and he took you out to eat on his treat. Venting about his frustrations as you listened carefully and tried to give advice.

Advice that Carlos didn't care for, you never really knew what you were talking about, you knew nothing in his eyes.

Calling you sheltered and naïve behind your back, and you would ignore the comments when they inevitably came back to you. Ignoring the blossoming pain in your chest, as Carlos would claim, he never said those things.

You had to stand on the sidelines as he got girlfriend after girlfriend, pushing you aside whenever a new relationship rolled into his life. Only for him to ask you to help pick up the pieces once it all fell to the floor. Usually by his own volition. It all felt so humiliating, and yet, a few choice words and promises you thought he would actually make good on this time, and you would have forgiveness ready for him on a plate.

The tabloids claimed he had a loyalty issue, and that he couldn't keep it in his pants. And he would poke at you, begging you to defend him and his honour, because he swore it was just a matter of misunderstandings. How foolish you looked, defending the man you loved in front of thousands of eyes, hoping that maybe this time. He would finally realise you would be the right one for him. That you wouldn't leave, that you could treat him so good. If only he would let you.

Blissful ignorance kept you in the dark. While you considered Carlos your best friend, closest confidant, practically your everything. As your life had begun to revolve solely around his. Carlos on the other hand barely considered you a part of his life, when he didn't need something from you. As the years passed by, he needed you less and less, your usefulness was drying up in his eyes. He had no qualms about simply stringing you along for the few times you did prove to be of help.

He had never used you for your name, not until your brother stopped socialising with Carlos. Then it had seemed all bets were off the table. Your brother could barely take hearing Carlos's name without having a visceral reaction. He wasn't blind, he knew that Carlos was using his younger sister, but he also didn't care enough to interfere. You had stated to him so clearly that Carlos was your best friend, and what could your brother really do when you seemed to be swimming in your delusions? Your brother was forced to stand on the sidelines until you would start drowning, so he could finally pull you out, and go I told you so.

There was no saviour to pull you out of your predicament, only yourself.

Your dad has always liked to parade Carlos around when given the chance, to events he would make you talk Carlos into attending. The type of events where your dad bought his tickets into everything. Sure he had made it big once, but that was before you were born, and now his biggest investment was Carlos. You didn’t mind these events, it meant having Carlos all to yourself for a few moments after. It meant having him tell you that you’re pretty in your dress, even though he would say that no matter what you wore. Your last name was painted on his jacket as he was paraded around by your dad.

It was always the same, the same empty words filling your ears, that sweet and devilish smile that had made you fall for him all those years ago. It was unanswered text messages and poor excuses without any apologies. It was knowing his voicemail by heart, for that was most of the time you spent on the phone hearing his voice. That tiny snippet of a prerecorded message.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Your patience was starting to wear thin, as your heavy heart barely moved around Carlos. The flutters you had once felt, had all seemed to slowly be replaced with the hurt that was filling your body. The way he would repeatedly stand you up, disappoint you, lie to your face. You knew you were the fool, but having to face it before felt too terrifying. But now, it no longer felt as scary as it used to.

Not when he showed up at your door, asking for shelter because a girl was sleeping in his apartment, and his girlfriend didn't know about it, and he didn't want to be there when that went down.

"No." You found yourself sighing, the disappointment filling you, as he once again was only breaking his weeks of silence since his newest relationship started. All to ask you to cover for him.

"What do you mean no?" Carlos is perplexed, you never say no to him. "I promise I'll take you out to dinner later, and you can wear that-"

"No Carlos." You could feel a headache coming in, or maybe it showed up when Carlos knocked on your door, and you just hadn't noticed it till now.

"C'mon it's just a little thing, just go over there and say you were borrowing my place with your friend." Carlos leaned close into your face, a move that always seemed to make you feel weak, but now you just felt utterly uncomfortable. "Baby, Hermosa, you know I love you, come on, help me out here."

You pulled back, watching the man in front of you, he seemed kind of pathetic when he was propped up against your door like that. You knew if he kept going you would crack.

"No, I- Carlos no. You need to tell me, you need to say those words like you mean them. You need to convince me, that you aren't just repeating the same thing you've done 100 times over." You tell him, you actually tell him.

"Hermosa! You can't ask this of me, you're my best friend." Carlos is grasping at any strand that might help him.

"Your best friend?" You sigh, "Your best friend?! I was such a fool, I've never been your best friend. You've always been mine, but I've never been your best friend. You've always been my highest priority, and I know I can't change that. I'm not even sure if I want to change that. But I can't take it anymore Carlos. Go home. Go home, Carlos."

You knew you were about to cry, but fuck, you weren't going to do it in front of him. You weren't going to give him the luxury of calming you down, and then try to pass it off as an intimate moment later.

"Go home, Carlos." You repeat.

"But Hermosa, I am home." Carlos tried, and you knew your tears were falling. Even now, even in your own home, he was lying to you, telling you the words you wanted to hear.

But you will not fall for them. You promised yourself you wouldn't fall for them.

Carlos reached out to try to wipe your tears away. Instead, your hand smacked his gesture away.

"Go Carlos, go home."

"Hermo-..." He stopped himself. Collecting himself, he bore a look you could never forget, one of indifference. He looked at you like you truly didn't matter to him. "You get to explain to your dad what happened yourself."

And with those words, Carlos turned around. Sauntering out of your apartment, as though his longest friendship hadn't just been broken up, no he sauntered away as though someone had told him his favourite candy at the shop was sold out.

Carlos didn't even close your front door.

The door was still ajar by the time you realised he wasn’t coming back. Carlos left. Carlos wasn’t coming back. He had truly left you for good.

You closed the door slowly, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The weight on your shoulders seemed to lift, and you realised that you had been carrying the burden of unrequited love for far too long. A flash of envy took over, how unfair it felt to be left in the mess. Even as he had walked out your door. You would still have to be the one to make up for it all. Dread filled your stomach as you knew your dad would come to question you once the news reached his ears.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

In the following days, you spent your time throwing yourself the greatest pity party you could. A well-deserved one in your own mind, a constant checking of your phone, hoping, praying Carlos would reach out. You spent countless hours trying to convince yourself that he hadn’t looked at you like that, that he hadn’t looked at you like you truly didn’t matter to him.

The questions from your dad were the worst. It was official now. Carlos was not to be a part of your life anymore. His personal assistant had told your dad all about the falling out, well Carlos’s version of your falling out. A tale spun from the most vicious lies, the type of story you would have once defended. The type you had put your name on the line for, was now directed at you.

Humiliation bitterly coated your mouth, as your dad chided you for making Carlos feel suffocated.

Why you couldn’t have done what the great racer just wanted?

Why did you have to go and ruin his great investment?

Then came concerned glances from friends who knew how entangled you were with Carlos. You kept your composure, explaining that things between you two had changed and that you needed space. It felt horrible to watch as the people you thought cared for you, slowly seemed to chip away with each “I’m so sorry to hear.” The way these people would turn around and spread whatever they could, all for a grasp of recognition. Milking the situation for the last bit of fame they could get from you.

The whispers reached your brother's ears, and he offered a supportive shoulder, a mix of sympathy and "I told you so." You appreciated the comfort, even if it came with a hint of vindication. The irony in his offer shining bright, he sat across the world, and you both knew neither of you would make the trip to see the other. You weren’t close like that, in fact, you were barely close enough to exchange gifts for birthdays.

As if the world wasn’t caving in beneath you already, his teammate had texted you. Charles Leclerc himself had texted you. It made you feel mental.

Charles Leclerc: Hey... It’s Charles. I don’t know if you have my number saved. I hope this isn't too forward. I heard about what happened with Carlos, and I just wanted to check-in. If you're not comfortable talking, I completely understand.

The text from Charles surprised you, a glimmer of unexpected support in the aftermath of your break with Carlos. You hesitated before responding, unsure of the dynamics at play and Charles's true intentions. Why would he text you? Why did he think you would have deleted his number? You know, the only reason the two of you ever swapped numbers was because of a night out last year. You think you could count your meetings with the Monegasque on one hand.

Your fingers finally worked up the courage to reply.

You: Hi, I do have your number saved. Thank you for reaching out. Yeah… It has been a lot. But why are you texting me?

The three bobbles popped up as your mind started running through all types of scenarios. From him telling you that Carlos should have walked away from you sooner, to asking if you were sure you couldn’t forgive Carlos.

Charles Leclerc: I get it if you're sceptical. But I've seen how Carlos treated you, and I felt like someone should offer support. If you're not comfortable with me, I totally understand.

His honesty surprised you, softening your initial reservations. You decided it was worth it to test the waters a bit more.

You: I appreciate the offer. But why now? Why not when I was at the races with you and Carlos was... well, Carlos?

You hesitated before hitting send, wondering if your bluntness was too much. There was a pause before Charles replied, as if he was carefully choosing his words.

Charles Leclerc: I guess I've been questioning a lot of things lately. I overheard Carlos complaining about having to play nice with your dad, and it rubbed me the wrong way. It made me realise I should've reached out sooner.

You had left him on read for half a day after that message, it had felt like a slap in the face. Even in your misery, your last name seems to be so much more important than you. It had hurt, and then you had texted him in annoyance one last time before bed. You even promised yourself you didn’t want to spend more energy on race car drivers.

You: It’s been a mess.

A short, simple message. That neat brief text perfectly summed up all you needed to say. Except then, you had woken up to a reply from Charles.

Charles Leclerc: If you ever feel like talking, or even if you just need a distraction, I'm here. No pressure, seriously.

It's possible that you weren't done with race car drivers. Your resolve had never been the strongest, and you did have a long list of poor decisions. You tried to rationalise with yourself, what would adding one more to that last really do for you?

You had found yourself texting Charles a lot more than you had thought you would. It surprised you how eager he seemed to respond. There was no waiting for three days for a response. He rarely left you on read without acknowledging he had at least read your message. You couldn’t find any fault with the charming Monegasque, so it was self-evident when you accepted his proposal to get coffee together.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The coffee meetup with Charles turned out to be ‌easygoing. Both of you approached the conversation with a degree of caution, but as minutes turned into hours, the conversation flowed naturally. It started with light banter, a shared laughter over amusing anecdotes, and gradually evolved into more personal topics. Then he finally breached the topic.

“What happened between you and Carlos?” Charles didn’t smile. Instead, he looked at you seriously, a drastic change from the man who had just told you he still gets lost at most race circuits.

It was as if the floodgates had opened, you spilt everything that had happened between you and Carlos. When your brother had brought Carlos to meet your dad for the first time. How you thought it was love at first sight upon seeing the Spaniard. To the skiing trip where you had lodged with Carlos alone for 2 entire weeks, and how you two had bonded and really connected. How he became your best friend after that. Then you admitted to having let Carlos string you along for years because every time he would leave you crumbs, feeding your delusions that one day you two would end up together. How it took years of disappointment and broken promises for you to finally muster up the courage to tell him to get out of your life.

“I’m so sorry-” You cut Charles off.

“I really don’t want to hear those words right now.” You had told him, a saddened smile on your lips. “Don’t apologise on behalf of someone who never will.”

Charles reached out across the table, putting his hand on top of yours. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. His silent display of support had been more than Carlos had ever shown you.

After that meeting, all the hesitation that had lingered in the corners of your minds seemed to seep away. Slowly but surely, Charles had become a constant in your life, in every sense of the word. He was there for you. He would send a good morning text, and you would send a picture of the sunrise. You would ask for recipe ideas, and he would send back the most horrid creations of his that he thought counted as good food.

He had snuck his way into seemingly every part of your life, bleeding into your daily routine, as though he had always been a part of it. Charles even made you start watching a show you had written off as not being for you, and yet he had been correct. You had been so absorbed you binged the first two seasons in a weekend.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Then came the travels, Charles asked you if you had ever been to Monaco and seen the place for what it was beyond the track. You had experienced the waters from a yacht once, Carlos had rented one and insisted you went with him because he wanted his best friend to be there with him. What a lie it had turned out to be. He had used you as an excuse to tell the press the other people on the yacht were your mutual friends. And that no, he didn’t cheat on his girlfriend at the time. How could he? You had even backed up his statement. What a fool you used to be.

Flying to Monaco had been a pleasant experience, a first-class ticket your dad had paid for, under the pretence you would bring up his name to Charles.

Despite your constant texting with him, this was the first time since the coffee meet-up you had seen Charles, and suddenly 8 months seemed like such a long time. You shot him a quick text after you landed.

Charles🏎️: I’m waiting for you :)

His eyes were brighter than you remembered, in a way a camera could never truly capture. His white button-up sleeves had been rolled up, and a few buttons undone at the top. He looked the part of the rich Monegasque that he was.

“Hi…” you breathed.

“Hey…” he responded.

“You look…” You trailed off, not knowing what to say, what could you even say in a situation like this.

Then a smile spread across his face, and just when you thought he couldn’t get any more handsome, your heart skipped a beat. “Handsome? Dashing? Might I even suggest breathtaking?” His laugh was so pure, and you knew you were threading dangerous territory as you watched his arms flex. Charles was making easy work of getting your suitcase in the trunk of his Ferrari.

“Is that a Stradale?” You reached out for the handle.

“Wait!” Charles closed the trunk and rushed over, flashing you a smile as he opened the door for you. “And yes it is, I never took you for being a car person.”

You slipped into the supercar, smiling up at him. “Well, you pick up a few things when your friends are Ferrari drivers.”

His penthouse was stunning. You recognised the view from a few of the pictures he had sent you over the last months. The interior decoration oozed with Charles’ personality in a way you had never expected it to. You would admit, you forgot Charles was probably significantly richer than you took him for. So used to only seeing him in his tracksuit, or that casual black t-shirt he had worn for your coffee meet-up. The image that had burned itself into your mind. He made even a simple outfit look so… You didn’t want to continue that sentence.

Charles took you out to eat that evening, promising he would give you a personalised tour of the city the day after. And he did just that.

First, in broad daylight, he pointed out places he had been when he was growing up, places he liked to eat now, and then the small cafe. The one he had texted you about. Where he had made you promise not to tell his dietician that he shared an ice cream dessert with you.

Then, as the night had come creeping up on you two, he had taken you for a walk around the track, horrified to learn you had never accompanied Carlos on a track walk before. Even an unofficial one, like you two were doing now.

His hand brushed against yours as you walked around the track. Your mood was light, trying not to savour the few times Charles bumped his shoulder into yours. All in the attempt that you would look at him instead of the road markings. You wished he would just grab your hand, for you don’t think you would have let his go. You don’t think you could even let Charles go.

The thought soured your mood, and it seemed Charles picked up on it. Unaware of why, you had a frown on your face, and you regretted so badly not to have given him an excuse. The shoulder bumping and hands brushing against each other seemed to stop for the night, despite the way both of your voices carried chipper tones.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Your fingers lightly brushed over the black finish of his grand piano. It was beautiful. Far above any piano you had ever played before. You gracefully slipped onto the bench, flipping up the cover, as you marvelled at the keys. Unaware Charles had come to join you.

“Do you play?” A simple question, and yet you think Charles had more intrigue in that one question than Carlos had ever had during your entire friendship.

“I’m a trust fund baby, of course, I can play.” You told him your fingers danced across the bright white keys, your eyes fixed on the keys as the music filled the room. Charles took it as his queue to sit down beside you, his body pressed up against yours.

A sharp tone cut through the tranquil melody. Expecting Charles to chastise you for the simple mistake, instead, he laughed as you stopped playing. When you turned your head to look at him, you finally realised just how close the two of you were.

“You play a lot better than I expected a trust fund baby to.” His smile was truly blinding, you slowly retracted your hands to yourself, as Charles placed his fingers on the keys. “I’ve made a few pieces myself. Don’t judge me too hard.”

“I could never judge you.” The words had left your mouth before you had realised you said them.

Charles hummed in response, his shoulder lightly pressed against yours. You pressed right back up against him.

The first few notes came floating from the piano, his fingers mesmerising you as they danced across the keys. He was far more elegant than you could ever imagine yourself being. The melody made your body feel warm, he had captivated you completely. Wasn’t there anything this man could do? One of the greatest race car drivers of his generation, an exceptional pianist, and not to mention… You couldn’t deny it much longer, he was truly handsome.

As the music drew you further in, your head rested against his shoulder, and Charles said nothing. Instead, he kept playing and playing and playing, one piece flowing right into the next one. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed. Completely lost in the moment, lost in Charles. You didn’t realise when you had closed your eyes, all too absorbed in the comfort Charles seemed to radiate here at his piano.

“I can’t have you fall asleep on me now.” His voice gently brought you out of the trance. You wanted to dispute his words, but he had been right. If he had kept playing. You would probably have slept up against him, not that you would have minded.

You slowly opened your eyes, shifting your head slightly. His eyes were already looking at yours. Your breath hitched.

Had his eyes always been this green?

You barely noticed how he had moved his hands from the piano, not until one of them gently graced your chin. He looked so peaceful, so content, as though this was all that mattered to him. As though you were all that mattered to him.

“Can I?” He whispered.

“Please.” You replied.

Then your eyes shut closed, as you felt his soft lips on yours. The kiss was slow and passionate. Charles was the first to pull away, and your eyes fluttered open. Anxious thoughts were quick to enter your head, he was going to say it’s a mistake.

Instead, Charles simply threw a leg over the bench, so he could pull you closer. Both his hands were quick to find your face once more. A carefree smile on his lips, the ones you just kissed.

“Chérie…” he breathed, before pulling you into him once more. This time the kiss was more desperate, and you mirror his sudden change in attitude. You craved him. You needed him. You wanted Charles with every inch of your body, and you wanted him to know it too.

Waking up tangled in the Monegasque’s bedsheets, his arm lazily wrapped around your body, was nowhere in your vacation plans to his country, and yet it had been the best part.

Peaceful times rarely last as long as people want them to.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Nearly a year of travelling back and forth to see Charles in Monaco, and him to you. Had made the two of you realise this was serious. It was blissful, and heaven. Your dad had even got to meet him, must against your better judgement, but Charles had managed himself fine and brushed off the need for your dad to sponsor him. He had stated a clear-cut need to not mix business with pleasure, and he planned to keep you around for as long as you would let him.

Time always seems to stand still when you’re waiting for something. And right now you wished it would pass faster. You were waiting for Charles to call, he had told you to wait by the phone. But that was 5 minutes ago, and you know he’s busy. But it never made you any less nervous when he was late to call.

Cariño🏎️ is calling…

A sigh of relief flooded your body. His voice greeted you with an apology before launching right into what he wanted to talk about.

“Chérie, come visit me next month. We can stay in Monza for a week, just the two of us.” Charles had pleaded with you.

“But what will people say?” You asked him, as though you weren’t already thinking of what to pack to see your boyfriend. Wanting to look your best when you were to cheer him on from the side.

“Let them talk.” Charles laughed, “I know you’re already starting to pack.”

“No, I am not!” You dropped the red dress you were holding in your hands.

“Sure, Chérie.” He seemed to know you better than yourself some days, and you had never thought you would ever feel this way. And yet here he was, showing you day after day, that he loved you like no other. “We’ll talk later okay? I love you.”

“Love you too, Cariño.” You told him, as the phone line went dead. A small laugh escaped as two flight tickets and a hotel booking immediately popped up in your mail. He was well aware you could not stand to say no to his charm, and he loved it.

As the car pulled up to the paddock, Charles clasped his hand around yours. You were wearing your best red dress. The one you knew gave Charles a hard time. You enjoyed his eyes on you, and Charles enjoyed having his eyes on you.

The Grand Prix was only a few hours away. You had opted to stay at the hotel for Friday and Saturday. You didn’t want to cause unnecessary press to be directed at Charles. Ferrari appeared to already have that in their bag, judging from the sudden car issue during qualifying, which resulted in Charles starting from P14 on the grid.

“It will be alright, Chérie.” Charles kissed the back of your hand. “I’ll be your knight in shiny red.”

You laughed. He always seemed to know how to make your worries disappear and float away. “You’re too cheesy, Cariño.”

“And yet you love me.”

“That I do.”

Then the car door went up, and Charles stepped out of the car, making a big show of helping you out of the car. Before offering his arm up for you to take. Your previous years of coming to the paddock had more than prepared you for the flashes of cameras and the screaming of fans. Charles took it all nonchalantly as well. Just another weekend, just another race. Expect the pictures would come to tell the story of a man so utterly in love, a far cry from his usual demeanour on the grid.

Charles had no qualms about showing you off to anyone who would look at him. A hand constantly rested on your lower back, and he enjoyed your closeness. A small hint of protectiveness in the air, and you suddenly wished he showed his side of himself more.

“Charles! And- oh hey, long time.” Max Verstappen was the first to approach the two of you. It slightly surprised you to have him remember you. You were never the big socialiser when you had been on the paddock before, but you suppose even after a few years certain faces stick around in others' memories.

Max didn’t have more to say about you and Charles, rather he had started talking about the breaking zone in turn 6. Although you were clearly checked out for most of it, Charles never let go of you during the entire interaction. His hand never strayed from your lower back. He enjoyed your closeness, and he was going to soak in every single moment of it he could get.

It wasn’t long before Charles got called away. Max took that as his queue to leave as well.

“I’ll see you right before the race, Chérie.” He stole a quick kiss from you right in front of everyone before being led away. You didn’t know until after that those pictures were quick to make the rounds on social media. Neither were you aware of the fact that Carlos had seen the entire ordeal. His blood was boiling at the sight.

Nearly two years of no contact, and the first time Carlos saw you, you were kissing his teammate. What a cruel joke. He didn’t even laugh.

You made use of your time without Charles to wander down the grid, saying hi to a few of the engineers in the McLaren garage. Even exchanging hellos with Lando, albeit it was a short-lived conversation. He, like every other driver, was busy. You took in the paddock's atmosphere, realising to yourself you had missed this place. Or maybe you were just finally enjoying it for all of its worth.

True to his promise, as Charles always was. Fully geared up in his tracksuit, and suddenly red had never been as pretty a colour.

“Well thank you for calling me pretty, Chérie, although I will say, you’re the pretty one here,” Charles said, putting his hands on your waist.

“I said that out loud.”

“For everyone to hear, and I am flattered.” Charles teased you before he stole a quick peck on your lips. You lightly punched his chest, and he faked a look of hurt.

“Good luck out there. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at him, stealing a kiss for yourself.

“Well, I have to, since I have such a pretty one waiting for me.”

“Charles!”

He laughed with you, before stealing one last kiss and hurrying over to his car. Reading up for the formation lap. The race itself was nothing special for the top 5, not that you would know. All too fixed on following the red car carrying your boyfriend. Who was fighting for his life to get anything useful out of starting P14.

However, Charles soon ran into issues as he and Carlos had become P6 and P7. Carlos was refusing to let Charles overtake him. Despite Charles having a much better pace. The fighting continued for multiple laps, as the ones behind them started to catch up. Charles finally got an opening that was good enough for him to pass Carlos properly, but Carlos would not let it slide that easily. Defending hard against Charles, but ends up clipping the tire of the other Ferrari, sending Carlos into under-steer right out of the corner. Carlos lost 3 positions and was all the way back in P9. With Charles in P6.

Charles overtakes twice more in the rest of the race. Landing him just out of the podium, and yet your pride for him is overflowing. Not hesitating to kiss him once Charles reaches you.

“It’s just 4th place, Chérie.” He would say, and you would correct him. “It’s still better than 15 others.” Kissing him every time he would display any dissatisfaction about his ending result.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The media pen had gone easy on Charles in comparison to Carlos. While most had asked Charles about the small tire touching with his teammate, most were interested to hear if this 4th place could mean Ferrari was to get a podium soon. And then he answered some questions about you, confirming that he was no longer single and very much in a happy relationship.

Some mercy might have been shown to Charles, but the same couldn't be said for Carlos. The Spaniard was already enraged before stepping into the media pen. Then he was thrown for the wolves to be torn apart. Question upon question about how he could have gone against team orders and not let Charles pass. How Carlos endangered both of the Ferrari drivers with his reckless and downright unnecessary defending. But then there was a question about you to finally snip his thin thread of patience.

“How do you feel about seeing a familiar face on the paddock after the last 2 years?” The interviewer asked Carlos.

“It seems anybody and everyone is welcome these days.” Carlos laughed disdainfully. “Even gold diggers and fame chasers.” The headlines were writing themselves after that interview.

Formula 1 driver Carlos Sainz Jr. drags his sponsor's daughter in an interview.Carlos Sainz speaks out about his teammate dating his ex-friend.Sponsor pulls out of contract with Carlos Sainz Jr. after interview.

It seemed even your dad had his limits. A surprise to you. Instead of bothering to call you about it himself, he let you find out from an article your brother sent you. Your brother had asked if you knew anything, and you had been honest about being as blindsided as he was.

“What are you looking at, Chérie?” Charles kissed your shoulder as he leaned over the couch. You tilted your head back, as he leaned down to kiss your lips this time.

“Dad pulled out of his sponsorship with Carlos.” You told him.

“What?” Charles wandered around the couch, falling down beside you, he was quick to open his arms, and let you cuddle into him.

“I know!” You showed him the article. You handed over your phone to Charles, as you settled into your favourite spot in the whole world.

“Merde, he actually did.” Charles was in disbelief as much as you were. It was no secret your dad absolutely adored Carlos. Even after first, your brother fell out with him, and then you as well. Your dad had never strayed from putting Carlos on an absolute pedestal, his favourite child.

“Are you going to start walking around with my last name on your chest then, Cariño?” You snuggled closer into him, enjoying the warmth he was omitting. Your eyes closed in bliss, as Charles started carting his fingers through your hair.

“I would much rather you took my last name, Chérie.” Charles kissed the top of your head.

“Slow down there Romeo, my dad just broke up with Carlos, I don’t think he can take another earth-shattering situation within this year.” Your head resting against his chest, you were able to follow his heartbeat. You had always loved the sound of it, because his heart was truly beating for you. And Charles never let you doubt it for a second.

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, a tremendous shout out to @thisismeracing and @pucksandpower for suffering through my obsession with all of this, and helping me through editing. And lastly, thank you to @toiletwipes for always telling me to keep writing and getting me back into proper fic writing

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earthtooz · 1 year ago

Text

x : QUIET LOVE :*+ﾟ

in which: neuvillette doesn't understand human emotion, but a quiet night after a bustling gala with you might help him.

warnings: fluff, gn!reader, pining neuvi but he doesn't know it, quiet walks along the beach at night, gentlemanly flirting bc it's neuvillette, hand kisses lol

a/n: sacrificial fic because neuvillette is not coming home, so i poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this, even if it's not all that. ALSO, this was inspired by a wip on @gum-iie's page (hi gumiie >_<), so i hope you all enjoy !! i tried my hand at the vision i saw.

Gatherings in Fontaine are nothing short of magnificent. The nation of justice will never shy away from a party that reeks of grandeur and extraordinaire, with crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, flowing gowns, and slicked-back hair. With an archon as dramatic as Furina herself, what else can the citizens of Fontaine expect?

Except for a long life such as Neuvillette himself, he has seen this scene one too many times. Gazing out amongst the sea of people, there is an ocean of unfamiliar faces, a sight that doesn’t bring him much peace. It’s not that Neuvillette does not enjoy interacting with humans- even if he’s not so good at doing so, but being amongst so many at once is the unpleasant part.

Despite his distaste for these kinds of bustling environments, he still thinks it’s good manners to attend, even if he will leave after an hour or two.

Yet, it has been half an hour past the two hour mark, and yet the Iudex still has not seen himself out because there is a particular someone that he is hoping to catch the eye of. Someone who is worth all this extra trouble and socialisation.

The melusines frequently run back to Neuvillette, concern and curiosity animated in their expressions as they ask their beloved father figure why he is still present. Their questions get brushed off by the Chief of Justice, who merely thanks them for checking up on him before telling them that there is no need to be worried, he is merely waiting for something. Or rather, someone.

Only at the third hour since the party’s commencement, does he get what he wants: your attention.

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” A voice cuts through the crowd and straight to him, causing him to turn around, eyes dancing wildly around the room to search for the source. He effortlessly finds your gaze and watches as you come closer to him, outfit flowing behind you and he decides that the crystals of the chandelier are no match against the ones that dance in your eyes. You are more radiant than the purest diamond and Neuvillette can’t find it in himself to glance away.

You are perhaps the most ethereal being he has ever seen in his long life.

What Furina promised him has arrived. Neuvillette can enjoy the night happily now.

“Y/n,” he greets, curt and polite, but the smile on his face speaks volumes. It tells a tune of subtle delight and enthusiasm mulled over for the sake of appearances and composition, and it is a melody that you are deaf to. In fact, the melusines are perhaps some of the only souls who can read his silent song of adoration but instead of meddling, they have resigned themselves to the corner of the hall, watching their beloved Chief Justice.

“I did not expect to see you tonight,” you murmur, placing your empty glass of wine onto the plate of a passing waiter. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He wants to say something charming, perhaps something like telling you how lovely you look tonight or how absolutely magnetic you are, but the words fall short and Neuvillette panics briefly, scrambling to continue the conversation. “It is important to keep up social relations, after all. Not attending would be problematic.”

“An utmost scandal for the Iudex, no less.” There is a teasing glimmer in your eye, one that most people keep away from him but you are an exception; you always have been with how you regard him. Many respect him but also fear him, he is revered but avoided by the public, people speak of him but never would do so causally to his face. It is a particular dance that Neuvillette has become accustomed to, and you have slotted yourself in a position that none usually take: right beside him.

He doesn’t completely understand human emotions just yet, but you evoke one that he cannot describe.

“How has your night been?” Neuvillette asks.

“Tiring, fleeting, boring,” you murmur, expression melting into something more fatigued. “I want to leave, monsieur, is that too frank of a confession?”

“No, not at all,” he sees an opportunity and scrambles to get the words out, “may I accompany you or will I be overstepping?”

You blink at him before a small, cheery smile pulls on your lips. “I would love your company, but I only ask that we leave at this very moment because it is getting far too stuffy in here.”

“Then time is of the essence.” Neuvillette extends his arm for you to take and he relishes in the feeling of when you do.

Leaving the venue and helping you down numerous flights of stairs, the lighting and allure outside is far more romantic than it is inside. The street lamps of Fontaine were made for functionality so that no citizen could walk around unassuming and unaware of the darkness, and never were they made with the intent of illuminating anyone’s beauty. Yet here you stand before him, radiant under the warm tones of the lamp with the evening breeze flowing through your hair.

Moreover it is quiet out here. There is no one to bother the two of you, no melusines, no meddling Archon who lives for drama, no loud music and chatter, just you and him, together. It is a contrast so stark that he fears reality will shatter any second.

Naïve to his internal turmoils, you tug at his arm gently. “Let us go for a walk along the river,” you propose. A muted feeling of enthusiasm flows through Neuvillette and he readily agrees to your suggestion, more than happy to indulge in the gentle kisses of the sea breeze on his face.

The stroll is peaceful and quiet, neither of you speak too much but it is not awkward in the slightest. Your gowns trail behind the two of you with each step, dancing in sync with the wind as your slow pace allows the two of you to bathe in the light of the moon.

Although Neuvillette does not want the night to end nor to let you go, the amount of yawns you’ve suppressed since leaving is alerting him of your fatigue, and he’ll feel bad if he keeps you from your sleep any longer.

Finally, with one long yawn that you were not able to shut away, he stops you in your tracks. “Tired?” The Iudex asks.

You look up at him with eyes forced open, wider than they usually would be. “Just a little, but the night has been lovely so far, I’d hate for it to end.”

“Please, if you need the rest then you should rest.”

“Thank you for your concern, however-”

“There will be no objections. Let me walk you home.”

The moonlight casts a shade of melancholy over your features and the last glance you give to the ocean is nothing but full of longing. You surrender reluctantly. “Alright.”

You two make it back to the last aquabus just in time, and you’re the only passengers onboard. There is occasional chatter with the conductor, as well as private conversations, but Neuvillette has no qualms just spending the ride in silence, admiring you whilst you gaze out at the beautiful landscape of Fontaine.

“There are so many stars out tonight.”

He glances away from you. “So there are.” Then he makes a brave leap. “There is one right beside me, too.”

“Me?” Your voice is strained with disbelief and your hold on his arms tightens just a little. There is momentary silence before laughter- a quiet sort of laugh, shy and not at all mocking or condescending. “Thank you,” you whisper, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I’m very flattered you think so highly of me.”

It becomes quiet again after that but your hand never leaves his. If anything, Neuvillette feels you even more now, your warmth pressed up against his side is addicting, he cannot help but want more of it; he cannot help but want more of you. He wants more nights like this with you, days even- just as long as he can spend some more time with you, he’ll be grateful.

Humans and the complexity of the emotions they feel are something Neuvillette still can’t get a grasp of, but you fill him with something so inherently humane. Sitting beside you on an aquabus that is minutes away from its end is a bittersweet reminder of how little time there is until the evening ends, and this mesmerising evening becomes nothing but a memory. How irrational it is to yearn for something so temporary, but that is what makes it beautiful.

The walk back to your neighbourhood is quick, too quick for Neuvillette’s liking, but the smile you give him when you stop before your door is heartwarming. “Thank you dearly for walking me home, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you begin. “You have been the best part about this lively evening.”

The Chief Justice has never had a way with words, rather, they have always been his enemy, so instead of speaking to convey what he feels, Neuvillette takes your hand instead and places a kiss on your knuckles. A gentlemanly act to many, but he holds and kisses you with such firm intention that it makes you dizzy. It makes you think deeper about whether or not there are underlying intentions to address, and it’s exhilarating questioning what exactly you are to the Chief Justice of Fontaine.

For now, you’ll find contentment in the moonlight dream that was this evening, and he’ll engrave the feeling of you so close to him into his memory.

#neuvillette i am on my knees pls come home #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

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evermoresqueiswriting · 8 months ago

Text

the one where clarisse learns about her love language

"Late in the night, the city's asleep Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" - King Of My Heart, Taylor Swift

summary: after getting hurt during one game of capture de flag, clarisse gets taken care of by you and after this, clarisse went from never being at the infirmary to being there almost every day with a new injury. weird for an ares kid to get this easily injured, but you didn't mind

pairing: clarisse la rue x apollo!reader

word count: 6.2k i suddenly lost the ability to write shorter fics bruh

tags: fluff, clarisse fell first and harder

masterlist // ask box

No one at camp had a job at camp per say. Hephaestus kids were the ones forging the weapons campers used, and Demeter kids sometimes cooked dinner. And some Apollo kids – including yourself – were the designated healers at camp. So, it wasn’t your job, per say, to stay at the infirmary all day long, but you were.

You enjoyed the calm and serenity of that place. The sun always shined through the windows, and you could sunbathe all day long, while listening to your favourite songs or painting. Most of the time it was quiet, except when Will followed you there. He was a rather loud kid, he loved to ask questions and learn about everything you did.

“Shouldn’t you be playing with other kids your age instead of trying to work here?”

“Shouldn’t you be socialising with kids your age instead of working for free?” Will replied in the same tone.

“Rude!”

“I learned from the best,” he gave you a pat on the shoulder.

“I regret it. All the time,” you turned away. “If you’re gonna stay here, at least help me clean this place.”

The first time Will tried to help you clean this place, it was a disaster. Before you ran the infirmary, it wasn’t organised, everything was just laying around. Then you came in, and cleaned up the place, and organised it how you liked it. Will didn’t know that, so he just cleaned up like he thought was fine. It wasn’t. And you had lectured him about never – ever – touching anything again without you being there.

“Tomorrow’s Capture the Flag,” Will started. “They put really far from the flag and the fight, again,” he frowned.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It always happens when the Ares cabin is teaming up with us. They’re always leading the fight.”

“Well they are good,” you shrugged. “But you know you can talk to Lee about this, he’s our head counsellor and he could talk to Clarisse.”

He shook his head.

“Clarisse is kinda scary,” Will admitted.

“Did I never tell you to never judge a book by its cover,” you put your hands on your hips, “but in that case you’re right. Clarisse does scare me a little bit too. And I’m kinda glad she decided to put me far away from her this time.”

Will rolled his eyes, clearly still upset.

“Okay, I can see how this isn’t great,” you sighed. “If for the next one, we’re still teaming up with the Ares cabin, I’ll talk to Lee and Clarisse alright?”

He nodded. Hopefully, you weren’t going to team up with the Ares cabin anytime soon. You never talked to Clarisse, but you knew who she was. Everyone knew her. Ares daughter, head counsellor and incredibly scary. She was an amazing fighter, and no one wanted to be at the other end of her spear.

“I’m just saying,” you ranted to Lee at dinner, “Will is a kid and it sucks that you decided to exclude him.”

“Who’s ‘you’,” he inquired. “Clarisse was the brain behind everything. She’s the strategist.”

“And what are you? A plant? You were there when the strategy was being made,” you argued.

“But Will never said anything to me. It’s always been this way.”

“Well he told me, and I’m telling you. Please pass along this information if we ever get teamed up with the Ares cabin again,” you smiled.

“Sure,” Lee nodded. “You’re the boss.”

“‘m not,” you mumbled and kept on eating.

Lee was the Apollo cabin’s head counsellor. But really, you were his co-head counsellor. You have been at camp for a long time now, since the age of ten and you have always been a year-rounder at camp. But when the head counsellor spot freed up, you vouched for Lee. He wanted that position, he deserved it, and you agreed. But he always came for advice and your opinion.

Capture the Flag day finally arrived, and you were getting ready, putting your armour on. You picked your bow and slid it on your shoulder, before leaving your cabin. You joined your team – the red one – and everyone was there already. Clarisse stood tall and proud at the front, planting her spear next to her.

“Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged,” Chiron announced – like every single time. “Killing or maiming is not allowed.”

“Much to my regret,” Dionysus mumbled. “So yeah, let the game begin or whatever.”

Clarisse turned around, waved her hand around and people were running to their assigned position. You were on flag duty. On top of the hill that had a perfect view of your flag. If you saw anyone from the opposite side you'd shoot explosive arrows to blind and confuse them for a second, so your team had time to disarm them before they could reach your flag.

You looked around, and spotted Michael and Lee. Chatting, and looking around. Moving on. Ares' kids were fighting some kids from the Hephaestus cabin. Logic. And then you spotted Clarisse. Walking alone through the forest. Probably to the other side where the blue flag was.

But then you also spotted a group of three Athena kids – blue team – following her closely. Clarisse wasn’t stupid, she probably knew about them following her.

“What are you watching?” someone asked, startling you.

“Will! What are you doing here?”

“There wasn’t anyone around the borders, so I came to help you. So what are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, going back to monitor your flag.

Will stared at you, huffed and went to look at what you were looking at.

“y/n?,” Will called for you.

“What?” you didn’t look at him.

“y/n!”

“What?” you gave him a quick glance.

“Something’s wrong.”

That caught your attention. You looked back at where Clarisse was. She seemed fine. The three Athena kids were no longer there though.

“What?”

“Don’t you see the trap?”

“What trap?” you frowned, looking more closely at where she stood.

It was a particularly sunny day. If your dad wasn’t Apollo, you’d be blinded by the sun rays. But your dad was Apollo, so you were doing great. And there it was. The trap. It was so bright, it was hard to spot it. And the Athena kids knew that. So when Clarisse walked over it, it was too late and something came flying toward her.

“What the hell?” you cursed before running down the hill. “Stay here,” you warned Will.

Before you left, you gave a quick glance back, and Clarisse was down, surely unconscious.

“Fuck.”

You sprinted towards where she was when you heard the emergency horn. The emergency horn that Chiron played at the start of every summer so campers would know what that sound meant. A warning for campers that the game stopped. When you reached Clarisse, Chiron and Mr D were already there. As well as most campers.

“What happened?” campers talked among themselves.

“Move!” you pushed the kids blocking you from reaching Clarisse.

Clarisse was bleeding from her forehead, and a metal stick was stuck in her left shoulder. It was overwhelming, people squeezing in to see what was going on, talking to each other. Even Chiron and Mr D couldn’t keep them in place. You kneeled beside Clarisse, trying to shield her from the campers, when you spotted one of the Athena kids that was following her earlier.

You stood swiftly, without leaving Clarisse unattended and grabbed his armour with both hands to bring him closer.

“You take another step toward Clarisse again and I’ll make sure you won’t ever, ever, see another healthy day again. I’ll make sure you and your brothers will wake everyday in pain wishing you were dead instead,” you cursed him.

You spoke in a low voice, but everyone heard. Just like that, everyone took a step back.

“y/n,” Chiron put his hand on your shoulder. “You’re needed in the infirmary, I’ll bring Clarisse there.”

You let him go, took your armour off and threw it on the ground before walking to the infirmary with your brothers close behind you. Michael had great healing skills too, so you’d need him. Will was learning so he stayed with you. Lee, as your head counsellor, also had to be here somehow.

“Can you really do that?” Will asked timidly. “Make them sick forever.”

“Apollo kids can inherit dad’s plague powers,” Lee stated. “But it’s rare, and never that powerful.”

Will stared at you, but you only stared at the door. Waiting for Chiron to arrive.

“Why are you so worried about Clarisse of all people,” Michael huffed.

Lee slapped his arm.

“What!” Michael rubbed his arm.

“Great to know that’s what you’d think if we were ever on the battlefield,” you noted, “choosing who to help and who can die.”

“That’s not what I said!” he shouted.

“Then why shouldn’t I be worried about an injured camper, who just happened to be Clarisse?” you shouted back.

Someone cleared their throat. You both stopped bickering. Chiron. He put Clarisse on the bed next to the window and stepped back so you and Michael could start working. You didn’t need to talk to know what to do. You trained together, as a team, for years, so everything was done flawlessly and quickly.

“She should be fine,” you announced, “I’ll stay and feed her ambrosia for the next few days and she should wake.”

“Great,” Chiron nodded, relieved. “Great work you two, as usual.”

They all left, except for Will and you both sat on the couch. You stared at Clarisse, with her head wrapped in a bandage, her shoulder too.

“She doesn’t look so scary now huh,” you said.

“No,” Will agreed. “So it really was the Athena cabin?”

“I don’t know, I mean I saw them. I don’t think Annabeth would’ve agreed to such a plan. As in a plan that’d almost kill their opponent in Capture the Flag. For a real quest, why not. But Capture the Flag?”

“What’s going to happen to those who pulled this stunt?”

“Well,” you sighed, “knowing Chiron, he’d probably just revoke their dessert privileges for two weeks instead of one. But I’m sure once she wakes up, she’ll know what to do.”

“Kill them?” Will ask, with a horrified expression.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Will left first, leaving you alone with Clarisse. You told him you’d join him later when dinner would come. You went to see Clarisse. The bandages were already soaked, so you carefully removed them. You carefully cleaned her wounds again before bandaging them again. You fed her a tiny amount of ambrosia before joining the rest of your siblings for dinner.

Before the feast could begin, Chiron gave a speech about how Capture the Flag wasn’t the place to settle personal accounts and that maiming and killing was forbidden. And how this time it went too far.

“I’ve talked to the head counsellor in question, and it will be taken seriously. There will be consequences, and I don’t ever want to see this happening ever again.”

Campers nodded along, and went back to their table. You devoured your food in no time, not forgetting to leave some for the offering. Then you rushed to shower and clean your face before running to the infirmary where you’d spend the next few nights.

“I really hope you’ll wake soon,” you told unconscious Clarisse. “I’m not used to having someone else in here.”

You walked around, putting things back where they’re supposed to, and walked back to where Clarisse was. Then you stood again, and sat.

“I’m crazy. A few hours with someone who doesn’t talk to me and I’m going insane,” you sighed. “Well, while we’re here, I have a few things to say, to get off my chest really,” you started your rant. “You know Will, my little brother. Well, Will is capable of holding his own, he can fight… maybe not your siblings, cause you’re all very, very, violent. But you don’t have to put him this far away each time you know, he notices.

“I’m saying,” you rested your back against the bed, “it could be different, you could come up with a different kind of strategy. It works for sure, you win a lot, but we could win in a different way also.

“You know I saw you,” you continued after a moment. “Being followed by these idiots. I thought you knew, and–,” you paused. “Ugh I should’ve tried to protect you. Warn you. It was my job. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? And it was hot as hell, you could’ve felt a little dizzy and I should’ve–”

“Shut up,” Clarisse wheezed.

You whipped around, standing up before backing away.

“Ar– Clarisse?” you whispered. “Are you feeling alright?” you walked to her.

Her eyes were still closed, she frowned and shook her head slightly.

“Waw, Ares kids are tougher than I thought,” you mumbled to yourself.

You went to grab some water and a straw, and sat next to Clarisse, on the bed.

“You should drink a bit.”

She opened her eyes, and stared at you, with a blank expression. You blinked, and smiled, holding up the straw to her mouth. You frowned when she refused to drink.

“Drinking water is good for you,” you added. “Please stop staring at me like you want to murder me.”

She rolled her eyes and drank everything before closing her eyes again, and turning her head on the other side.

“Well, I’ll be sleeping on this bed,” you pointed to the bed next to hers, “if you need anything, shout.”

Clarisse kept quiet, so you went to bed and fell asleep very quickly. Clarisse, on the other hand, could not fall asleep. She turned head around and looked at you. You clearly slept well, with your mouth slightly opened. After a few minutes of staring outside the window, her stomach growled. She needed to eat.

There had to be food in here – she looked around and spotted a basket full of fruits and cake. That’ll do. She gathered all her strength and tried to push herself up using her left arm and yelped in pain. That woke you up.

“What’s wrong?” you worried.

“Nothing,” Clarisse panted, biting her lips.

You rushed to her and saw her shoulder was bleeding again.

“What happened?” you worried, turning the lights on.

You grabbed clean bandages, and a clean towel with some alcohol and rushed back to her. Clarisse somehow managed to sit up, her right arm holding onto where her left shoulder was stabbed.

“Don’t cover it,” you pushed her hand away.

You started to remove the blood soaked bandages when she grabbed your hand to stop you. You gave her a questioning look. Clarisse quickly let go of your hand and looked away, breathing slowly. You opened your mouth, but then closed it and resumed your work.

“What were you trying to do anyway?” you asked when the wound was clean.

“I was hungry.”

“I–, I mean I did say to shout if you needed me but I was not thinking a pained scream with you bleeding again. Just a ‘hey y/n bring me food’ would’ve suffice. I would’ve been up. And that’s done. Good as new.”

Clarisse was still looking away from you which hid her head wound. When she turned her head toward you, you raised your hand to touch her face, but she flinched away hard at your sudden movement. You froze, too afraid to move again. No one talked or dared to breathe – the silence became heavy. Clarisse opened her eyes, and stared at you. She took your hand in hers and put it down.

“I–,” you breathed, “I was just going to check your head wound,” you murmured.

“Go ahead then,” she sat straighter.

You raised your hands slower this time, and tilted her head. You tore off her bandage and put it back in place. Clarisse could hear her heartbeat pacing up. Her mind and body stopped functioning. What was happening? She kept thinking about how your hands felt so warm in the night breeze, and how pretty you looked so close. Then when you dropped your hands, she came back to reality.

“Your face is still good. Like always,” and gave her a small smile.

“I’ll go eat,” she blurted out before leaving bed.

“Oh– okay. I can go to the kitchen and bring other things if you want.”

“No it’s fine,” she brushed you off, focused on the fruits in front of her.

Which was hard with you so close behind her. You watched Clarisse eat the strawberries and blueberries and grapes, and then you grabbed an orange and started to peel it. Once you were done you handed it to her. She grabbed it slowly and whispered a low thank you before eating it. Clarisse also ate half of the cake Katie brought to you earlier.

“Demeter kids, am I right,” you ate with her, “I don't know what they put in their cakes but I could eat them everyday. You should rest now,” you put your hand on her right arm and squeezed it. “You can barely stand.”

This time when Clarisse closed her eyes, she fell asleep instantly. And so did you. The next morning, you were the first one up. As soon as the sun rose, you were ready to start your day. You went to your cabin and washed up before grabbing a new toothbrush for Clarisse. You changed your clothes, and then went to the Ares cabin. You opened the door, and no one was up yet. You spotted the only empty bunk bed – Clarisse had one for herself – and saw her drawer next to it. You grabbed a new pair of pants, and a new camp-half blood tee and left in a hurry. Clarisse was up by the time you came back.

“I brought some of your clothes so you could change,” you gave her the clothes and the toothbrush. “I did sneak into your cabin, but I didn’t look through your stuff, don't worry about that,” you smiled. “I mean, except for your clothes – sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, I’ll let you change and I’ll be… not here for sure. I’ll go get breakfast!”

Clarisse watched you walk away, humming to some songs and when you were out of her sight, she got out of bed to change and clean herself. All she could think about was what happened yesterday. What even happened yesterday?

Before yesterday, you never spoke. She knew your name and vaguely knew what you looked like, but that was it. Since she arrived at camp, she didn’t once step into the infirmary – she didn’t need to. But now, for some reason, all she could think about was you. And how warm and soft your hands felt, how nice it felt to have you touch her face like that.

By the time you came back, Clarisse went back to bed and laid down. You gave her what you brought and you ate together, picking off the same plate.

“How are you feeling this morning? Does it still hurt?” you pointed at her shoulder.

“I’m—,” she stopped. “It still hurts,” which was true. “A lot,” that wasn’t..

“Really?” you worried. “I thought you’d be doing fine, because you woke so early. I thought your body was healing faster than most campers. Well,” you picked a strawberry with your fork, “you’ll have to stay here longer then.”

“Can’t go against the doctor’s orders,” she shrugged.

“True,” you smiled. “You finish this,” you pushed the plate toward her, “I’ll go get some supplies to change this,” you gently patted her shoulder.

You rolled your chair away, and grabbed what you needed and rolled back to Clarisse. You hopped onto her bed, and started your routine. The wounds were healing perfectly fine, and very quickly, so it was odd that Clarisse was still in extreme pain.

“I don’t think these wounds will scar,” you said.

“A shame, they’d make me look tougher.”

“Look?” you huffed. “You don’t need those to look tougher, you already do. Scary even,” you joke, but not really. “I mean I’m not scared– anymore… but yeah, some people may say– think you do. Anyway, scar or not, you’ll always look and be the toughest.”

“Anymore?” she grinned. “Were you before?”

“I mean,” you dragged that last vowel, “I don’t think scared is the right word. More like– intimidated. I never went to these meetings for Capture the Flag because I knew if you disagreed or worse – dismissed my ideas – I would’ve cried.”

“I never would’ve done that,” she chuckled, “I don’t think you’re capable of having bad ideas. Lee’s constantly praising you and giving us your ideas that I always take into account.”

“Really?” you couldn’t stop your smile.

She shrugged, and nodded. You playfully slapped her on the shoulder – the left one – and she yelped in pain.

“What the hell!”

‘Sorry!” you backed away, “it was a reflex.”

Clarisse ended up staying in the infirmary with you for three whole days, but she couldn’t fake it anymore when the wound completely healed and it was as if nothing had happened. The day she left, you cleaned up the room and sat alone on the couch, just like before.

It was weird. Usually, you enjoyed the silence and solitude of the room, but now it was as if time had stopped. Every time you looked at the clock, it’d only been two minutes. And so were the next few days. Then on Friday, as usual, Lee came in to visit. You worked in silence – which was the first odd thing Lee noticed – then he saw how you always stared at the empty bed Clarisse used to stay in.

“You’re being weird,” he said.

“I’m not!”

“You’re never this quiet when I visit.”

“The past few days were a bit dry,” you explained casually.

“You can say you miss Clarisse, it’s fine,” he sat next to you on the couch.

“I–,” you sighed. “It’s just… I was getting used to having someone with me.”

“Well maybe you should spend less time here and more time outside with, mmh I don’t know, Clarisse maybe.”

“What if she doesn’t see me as a friend though? What if I’m imagining things? She hasn’t visited me once.”

“Then you come back here, and the end.”

“I hate you,” you groaned. “You’re no help to me at all!”

When the door suddenly flew open which startled both of you. You could recognise these hair anywhere.

“Clarisse?” you called her name.

She turned to face you, and a gasp came out of your mouth before rushing to her.

“What happened to your face?” you held her arms.

Clarisse had a nasty cut going from her eyebrow to her hairline. She stared at you without saying anything before turning her gaze to Lee, and he spurted out some excuses and then left. But before he closed the door, he gave you a knowing look saying ‘see, she’s here’.

“What happened?” you frowned.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “These few days of rest weren’t a good idea I think.”

“That’s–,” you paused, “not accurate.”

But before she could reply, you grabbed her arm and dragged her to the other side of the room, and let her sit on the chair. You grabbed clean cotton and some alcohol and started to clean her wound. You stood closely to her, between her legs with her hands holding onto your thighs to stay steady.

“How did this happen anyway?” you asked.

“I was practising with my brothers.”

You frowned, and tried to step away but Clarisse was holding on tight to your thighs.

“You got beat up by your brothers?” you repeated with a raised eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing this. You’re just better than them,” you said casually before patching up her wound.

“Why do you know so much about my brothers’ skills?”

“I don’t! I know about yours. And from what I saw in the past, it’s always you leading the fight so I assumed that’s because you’re the best among them.”

“Mh,” she hummed, “well I guess you haven’t been doing your job very well if I’m not back to my old self yet,” she grinned.

“Or,” you grinned back, “maybe it’s your skills. I think they need a little sharpening. Maybe I could spare some time and teach you if you need.”

She suppressed a smile.

“Or, maybe you just want to spend time with me.”

You were close to each other, and Clarisse was still holding onto you. You crossed your arms, and stared at her. She was looking up at you, and you were looking down, which was a rare occurrence since she was much taller than you.

“I’m doing a favour to you at best. But if you don’t want to,” you sighed, “it’s–.”

“I do,” she affirmed.

That was the start of your friendship. Turns out Clarisse was really glad to hang out with someone that wasn’t her sibling. She was always the one seaking you out. At lunch, at dinner, during classes. All the time. Even when you were working, because somehow she always, always, ended up getting hurt.

One of the first times she came in after your friendship hangouts was for a sprained ankle. She came in limping, and threw herself on her – not really – bed, groaning.

“What happened?” you rushed to her side, worried. “You’re lucky I just came back in here!”

Clarisse didn’t want to admit this, but that was exactly why she was here. She was on her way to her cabin when she spotted you walking around with your sisters and she was so focused on you that she tripped and fell.

“I just fell,” she explained.

“You just fell,” you repeated slowly. “Right. Well lucky you because this,” you patted her leg, “will heal in no time with this,” you brought her some ambrosia.

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Oh.”

Then the next time she came, like the next few ones, were always injuries that required you to clean up the wound, and then patch her up. It went from tiny cuts to ‘I have a bruise here’ then showing you her perfectly unbruised skin to serious injuries that she got during Capture the Flag.

“You know at this rate I feel like you’re doing this on purpose,” you joked when she came in for the umpteenth time. “What is it this time?”

She shrugged and sat on her designated bed, and laid down. You joined her and sat next to where her legs rested. She held up her hand and you took it before she dragged you to lay beside her. The beds in the infirmary weren’t big enough for two so you were half laying on Clarisse with her arm resting behind your head.

“Did you paint that?” she asked.

The ceiling was painted by the Apollo cabin, all together you decided on a design and painted it over weeks worth of work.

“Here,” you pointed at the top of the painting. “That was painted by me.”

“Two planets?”

“The moon and Saturn,” you smiled.

“Linked by a thread?”

“Yea, the red string of fate. It’s from Chinese mythology. The old lunar matchmaker god, who is in charge of marriages, would tie together two people with this red string of fate and they are destined to be together, to be lovers regardless of time, place or circumstances. And no matter what, that thread will never break. It can stretch or get tangled up, but it never breaks.”

“And what about the moon and Saturn then?” she frowned, confused.

“Because,” you paused. “Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn,” you started to sing, “Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long.”

You turned your head to look at her only to see confusion on her face.

“Taylor Swift, seven,” you explained. “It’s great, we’ll have to listen to it someday.”

“Sure.”

“Really?” you looked at her excitedly.

“Yeah, you seem to like her so sure, I’ll listen with you,” she shrugged.

“Oh and that’s Will’s painting,” you showed her another corner. “That’s my dad and his lover, Hyacinthus. That’s where the name of the flower came from. Isn’t that kind of sweet how he named a flower after him.”

“I mean didn’t Apollo kill – by accident – Hyacinthus?” she grimaced.

“Or Zephyrus was so jealous of my dad that he killed his lover, because he couldn’t get no man. My dad is an excellent archer. His aim never failed him. I don’t see how it’s possible for him to kill his lover. But gods being petty over these kinds of things, that I can believe.”

Clarisse hummed in agreement.

“But enough about my father’s love life,” you shrugged, turning around to face Clarisse, “what about your dad? Still desperately trying to woo someone else’’s wife?”

“I don’t want to talk about my dad,” she yawned, then closed her eyes.

“Okay.”

Just as you were about to continue talking, you noticed that Clarisse had fallen asleep. It was still early in the afternoon so it was still bright outside. You looked around and started to get up so you could pull the curtains but Clarisse grabbed your arm to pull you closer to her, locking you in her arms.

“Don’t go,” she mumbled.

“Okay,” you whispered and stayed still.

The thing was, Clarisse was like a human radiator. Sleeping in her arms felt exactly like sleeping under tons of heavy blankets. This much warmth only resulted in falling asleep in Clarisse’s arms. When you woke, you were alone in bed.

“Slacking off during work hours,” Lee said standing next to you.

“Fuck!” you jumped off bed. “Why were you staring at me sleeping!” you screamed.

“You weren’t there and it’s almost time for dinner. I’m being a nice brother!” he shouted back.

“Oh. Well, thanks!” you yelled, and gave him a smile.

You both left to join your siblings at the dining pavilion, and once you sat at your usual spot, you scanned the room in search of Clarisse. She was at her table like usual, and eating in silence, head hanging low. Your tactic of staring at her wasn’t working even though you knew she knew that you were staring at her.

“What are you doing?” Lee kicked you with his elbow. “Did something happen with Clarisse?” he whispered.

You shook your head.

“I mean,” you leaned in whispering, “we did sleep together.”

Lee’s eyes widened, mouth wide open and he backed away in shock.

“You– you slept together? In the infirmary?”

“Not slept together,” you rolled your eyes, “she fell asleep and did I.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, she left without saying anything,” you explained. “And now, I feel like she’s avoiding me.”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“She’s avoiding me, I’ve been staring at her for at least fifteen minutes and nothing. Not a glance from her.”

“Okay creep. But once again, just talk to her. It would solve all your problems here.”

“She’s the one who doesn’t talk. I talk. A lot!”

“Trust me, I know. I just don’t think Ares kids are the best at talking, you know.”

“Fine.”

But as it turned out, Clarisse mastered the art of avoiding people – you – when she wanted to. Whenever you tried to talk to her, she would disappear. After a few days of trying, you gave up and told everything to Lee.

“If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, then fine by me,” you frowned, holding back your tears.

“I’m sure you’re overthinking this,” he tried to comfort you.

“Oh please,” you huffed. “You saw what happened this morning when I tried to talk to her. I’ll get over it,” you whispered. “I’ll get over her.”

Lee considered himself your best friend, and favourite brother. You never said these things, but he considered you his best friend and favourite sister. And as your best friend he had to do something, he had to talk to Clarisse and give her a piece of his mind. So that night, he was a man on a mission. He walked to the Ares cabin, and waited for Clarisse to either go or or go out.

“Clarisse!” he called her name when she finally left her cabin.

“What do you want, Fletcher?” Clarisse sighed, clearly annoyed.

“Oh, so you do speak. And here I thought you lost that ability,” he snickered.

“I will punch you in the face.”

Lee rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I’m not scared, unlike you.”

“What–.”

“You’re scared to talk to y/n for whatever reason, and I need you to pluck up the courage to talk to her because you’re making her miserable by avoiding her.”

“I–,” she froze.

Was she making you miserable?

“You’re just doing your thing and going to her when you need, when you want but have you ever thought about what she was thinking? No. You would if you’d just listened to her, but no,” he made a big gesture, “avoiding her like the plague.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she mumbled, looking away.

“I’m telling you that you made a mistake, and if you continue down this path you’re going to lose her for good. I’m not saying this for you, because I couldn’t care less about you, but y/n is my sister and I want her to be happy and for some reason you are making her happy,” he rolled his eyes, “so do whatever you want with this information.”

Clarisse stood there, not saying anything, watching Lee walking away. But then he stopped and turned around to walk toward her again.

“Before I forget,” Lee added before throwing his strongest punch in her face. “For making my sister cry.”

And he ran away, before Clarisse could punch him back. But Clarisse was too busy thinking about you to think about Lee and what he just did. If it weren’t for that afternoon in the infirmary, she probably would’ve ran to you so you could take care of her, but now, she couldn’t. So she went to sleep, wishing that tomorrow it’ll be better.

You were one of the first campers to arrive for breakfast. You ate slowly, and by the time the dining pavilion was filled with campers, you were done. But you stayed and listened to your siblings talk. Just as you were about to leave, Clarisse came in and you dropped your fork in shock. She had a black eye and her cheek was bruised, with her nose in a weird shape. She looked at you, as you stood urgently. But then you froze – should you go to her? You sat back down, still staring at Clarisse.

“What happened to her?” Will whispered to you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back.

“You don’t? I thought you were friends.”

“Yea, me too,” you sighed.

Clarisse was walking to her table, dragging her feet along and when she walked past the Apollo table, you stood and grabbed hand, forcing her to face you. When you noticed several heads staring at you, you dragged Clarisse away and brought her to the archery field.

“What happened to your face?” you held her face in your hands.

“Nothing,” she leaned into your touch.

“Clarisse,” you whispered. “Just talk to me please.”

“Lee came to have a little chat with me yesterday.”

“He did this?” you gasped.

“Yeah.”

You held your hand to your mouth, in shock and to hide a tiny part of you that wanted to laugh.

“And?” you asked.

“He said I was making you miserable.”

“That’s not true!” you insisted.

“I ignored you. And I shouldn't have. I don’t–” she hesitated, “want to lose you,” she mumbled.

“Then just talk to me, we’re friends too.”

“I– I don’t know,” she stepped back and took a deep breath. “I was confused! I– I don’t know I like it when you take care of me,” she admitted in a low voice. “I’m being weird and–.”

“You’re not,” you held her arms. “It’s not weird to love physical touch. I mean, I just assumed that it was your love language you know.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“I think what you like is when I hold you or when I touch you because you love physical touch,” you began, “and you were doing everything to visit me, pretending to be a bad fighter and getting hurt on purpose.”

“No that’s no–,” she shook her head.

“It’s fine! My love language is quality time, and there’s nothing wrong—.”

“No it’s different–.”

“It’s not! It’s fi—.”

“It’s because I like you,” she blurted out.

Oh. You couldn’t help but smile at her confession.

“It’s not funny!” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“I’m not laughing! I’m… happy about this outcome,” you rested your head against her arms and looked up. “Because I like you too Clarisse.”

“Really?” she stared at you.

You nodded.

“I’m sorry about ignoring you,” she added.

“Mmh,” you smiled, “I accept your apology. But you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Anything you want.”

“A kiss?”

Clarisse uncrossed her arms and held your face instead and leaned in to kiss you eagerly. And you happily gave in, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“Mmh, keep doing that and I’ll forgive you, no doubt.”

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