#I hope you're hungover

[oreoambitions]

[jettlawrence]

my mom's refusal to respond to texts but starting an entirely new conversation in the same group chat is baffling to me

[highvern]

endpoint

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers

warnings:  cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption

Length: ~19.5k

Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe

summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“What’s the difference between a proton and an electron again?”

“Shoot me in the fucking head,” Wonwoo whispers harshly.

He’s a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. It’s a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture. 

Dr. Wagner’s intro to chemistry  course isn’t difficult – freshman aside – which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. You’ve TA’ed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but it’s all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem. 

“Me first,” you whisper back. 

Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing “check for basic brain activity” under the class To-Do list. 

Fair enough. If they can’t understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.

[09:48] You:  be nice

[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer

[09:48] You: maybe they’re scared stupid

It wouldn’t be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didn’t say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.

[09:48] wonwoo: from what?

[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind

[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them

[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit

Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More ‘dumb shit’ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.

[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more

[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more

[09:50] You: oh?

Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,

[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass

“Alright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so don’t worry about the back half but try and review the modules we’ve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,” Dr. Wagner prattles off.

The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, other’s clearly haven’t paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. It’s Friday after all. They probably didn’t get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.

You wouldn’t even be here if Wonwoo wasn’t a built in insurance policy.

Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, “Have a good weekend!”

“There's a party at Sigma tonight,” Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.

“I have work until eleven.”

“After?”

Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. “Don’t you have a tournament tomorrow?”

“I only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.”

“Fine,” you nod. “But bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.”

It’s not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. It’s an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassman’s party. You didn’t know he’d be a virgin and he didn’t know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car). 

It’d been…not good. 

Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasn’t interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didn’t belong to an unknown upperclassman who could’ve burst in any minute. 

Wonwoo isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. There’s barely enough time as it is; you’ve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs you’ve wiggled your way into to pad your resume. 

And he’s busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasn’t just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season. 

It’s been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you don’t have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. He’s simple. 

So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.

The application website stares back from your laptop with horror. 

It’s still too early to submit any materials but it’s been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opens—except Dr. Wagner’s recommendation. It’s the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; she’s one of the program’s most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot. 

Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester. 

With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chan’s mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasn’t shown up. It’s good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagner’s approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and you’re free to run home.

Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and he’s already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early. 

“You’re late,” you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. He’s close enough to get a whiff of. “And you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk,” he argues.

The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isn’t an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.

He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you don’t argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Lee,” you call towards the security desk.

The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, “You too, sweetheart.”

Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.

A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies — all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter ‘bitch’s hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.

On the other side, you ask, “Have fun at the party?”

“Some pledge puked on Jihoon’s stuff,” he huffs, nose scrunching.

“May he rest in peace.”

Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully it’s a short trip to the second floor.

He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.

There isn’t much space inside the four walls you call home – the ‘kitchen’ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge you’re barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books you’ve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.

You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.

“Can I help you?” you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.

Wonwoo’s shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. “You know I sleep better when I shower.” 

True.

“And I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if I’m dirty.”

Even truer.

The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwoo’s mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.

Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid that’ll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance. 

Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.

Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isn’t enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.

Even when drying off you stay in each other’s orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.

It’s not until you’re laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.

“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.

The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.

A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction. 

“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”

He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.

He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.

It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”

“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks. 

He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.

Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort. 

He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. You’ve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.

“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.

Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue. 

In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh. 

“F-fuck.”

He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way. 

You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it. 

You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.

He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.

Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.

Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.

You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.

His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily. 

“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.

His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.

Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”

He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.

You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.

Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.

“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.

A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts. 

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest. 

The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.

Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction. 

He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.

“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”

“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.

“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”

Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”

“Bitch.”

The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.

Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagner’s chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks. 

It’s there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.

“I know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,” she starts. 

Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. It’s a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital. 

Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. You’ve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted it’s truly a miracle he’s even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. You’ll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).

“I don’t think I’ve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,” she continues.

You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and it’s finally in reach.

“However,” Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. “I’m writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”

It’s like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.

“I know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students I’m considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.”

She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way you’ve turned purple from holding your breath.

“Have a good night you two! See you tomorrow!”

The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow. 

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo hasn’t moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagner’s now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.

“Did that just happen?” you scoff in disbelief. “Is she serious?”

Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. “I needed that recommendation.”

“Well, so do I,” you argue.

“I know. This is bullshit.”

“Did Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?”

“No, all three people who asked her got one.”

“Oh, so it’s just us she hates. Great!” you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe it’ll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.

“She’s probably just trying to get in our heads so we don’t slack off this semester.”

“Have we ever slacked off any semester? I’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. You’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. We’re those people.”

Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a ‘we’. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together. 

But now that’s over.

Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.

“Listen—” you stand up and scrub at your own face. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“We? Only one of us can get her recommendation. What’s there to figure out?”

Your face goes hot. He’s right. “Well, I need that recommendation.”

“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.

“Fine.”

That recommendation is mine.

“Fine!”

We’ll see about that.

Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.

The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.

Presently, it’s grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesn’t believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.

Which means it’s past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwoo’s ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.

The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits – if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.

Wonwoo doesn’t even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You don’t look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word. 

Then the power goes out again, and doesn’t come back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords. 

Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I have them in here somewhere,” you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled you’ve never used and other things you didn’t even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. “There’s only a few tests left.”

“We can do them tomorrow. It can wait.”

“No,” you spit like a curse.

Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. “Fine.” 

His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch?” 

“Yep.”

“You’re too tall.”

“Well,” he draws like a pouty kid. “I don’t feel like sharing the bed with you.”

In a way it’s safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason you’ve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you won’t lose him. It’s stupid and petty but at least you’re speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence that’s been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.

“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. N. O.”

Fine.

It’s difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once you’re sufficiently oriented you sit on him.

“Ow,” Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. “What are you doing?”

You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. “Sleeping.”

“Here?” he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.

“You’re too tall to sleep here.”

“And we’re both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?”

“No. N.O. I believe you’re familiar with the word,” you spit.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.”

“Neither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.”

He’s right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then he’ll find some way to pull you off. “I’m fine.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

You do the mature thing and bite him. 

The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. “What the hell was that for?” 

You do it again.

“Stop.”

“Or what?” you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.

Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.

“I can’t breathe like this,” you muffle into the cushions.

“Oh, how tragic.” You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them. 

Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser you��d been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.

It’s easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all that’s left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each others’ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.

Here, everything is uncomplicated.

The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.

“Aw, tell the doctor where it hurts,” you coo, prodding his side.

He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. “Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you’re tired?”

“Yes. You. Lots of times.”

“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”

Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. You’re a glutton for warmth –  Wonwoo’s warmth specifically – even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.

“We can’t sleep like this.”

You don’t want to move – laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back – all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.

But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.

“Then sleep in the bed,” his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.

“No. You sleep in the bed, you’re too tall to sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.” Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. It’s ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.

He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping in the bed, and you’re sleeping in the bed with me.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep next to you?”

“Then I’ll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.”

“Have mercy,” you whimper.

“Then get your ass in bed.”

Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.

A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this – whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that he’s meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns. 

There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in? 

“Was that so hard?” he whispers into your collar.

When you don’t answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window he’s the same Wonwoo. The one you’ve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible. 

The one who you’ll have to say goodbye to.

He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.

It makes the urge to cry that much worse.

The rain is gone by morning. 

The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. He’s awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.

“Morning.” 

You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. “Morning.”

The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.

He’s hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because he’s snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward – him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. It’s been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwoo’s hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.

You’re wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.

Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.

A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because there’s no shot in hell he’s been getting laid lately.

His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”

Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue. 

Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when you’ll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one another’s presence again.

“Might cum—fuck— don’t stop,” he grunts.

With the sun filling the room even more you’re running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.

“Shit, babe—c-cumming,” he whines with a pathetic groan you’d make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if there’s enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.

You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesn’t shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours – not the ‘I need you’ kisses after a late night but the ‘I miss you’ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.

He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.

Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.

You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans. 

He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. “Ignore it.”

“What?” You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.

But you can’t.

“We’ve got class,” you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.

A groggy groan of, “skip,” vibrates on your skin.

Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.

“We can’t.”

“We can,” Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. “We’ve been early every time this semester.”

The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Wonu,” you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is. 

You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.

“Stop.”

He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. “Huh?”

The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. “We can’t skip. We have to give exams back.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.

The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. “You think now is the time to start slacking off?”

“It’s not slacking off.” Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. “It’s a break. You clearly need one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget it. I’m not arguing with you about stupid shit.”

“And what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?”

Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. “Whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.

There aren’t many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesn’t stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.

The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwoo’s jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes. 

You could’ve skipped. It wouldn’t even count as skipping because class is canceled and there’s no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isn’t even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest. 

There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each student’s exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it. 

Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.

“Hey,” you call.

He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like he’s shocked you’re even there in the first place. But he doesn’t turn around; just tilts his head so you know he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.

“Sorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.”

And the fact that I can’t be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when you’re right next to me.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.

He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. “What else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I don’t do my job.”

“I didn’t,” you argue but it’s salt in the wound because—

“You did.”

“But—”

“It’s fine. I’ll finish grading the exams over the weekend.”

And then you're alone.

You’re alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.

You’re alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isn’t Wonwoo. There’s an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CC’ed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.

You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.

Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.

The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.

It’s near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.

It’s not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwoo’s favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But you’ll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions – they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud. 

A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. “Helping” meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.

He’d apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion – completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.

Wonwoo is here – somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, he’s not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesn’t even know you considered coming to this.

Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.

“Jihoon,” you greet, before looking at the younger man. “Speed bump.”

Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.

“Can you not torment the kids?” Jihoon grunts.

“I could. But, where’s the fun in that?” 

“Your boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him it’s his turn to watch the door.”

“Got it.”

Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. There’s barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but it’s more like swimming against a rip tide. 

It’s difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn you’re off into the kitchen.

It’s an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second you’re tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwoo’s room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.

Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.

A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your “boyfriend” being “president or something” but “I don’t pay attention to those things,” and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.

You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.

His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. It’s the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. He’s a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you could’ve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.

It’s not the first time you’ve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last.

Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an ‘L’ is lopsided on his head but at least he didn’t wear the fake mustache. “So, what is your costume?” he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.

“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.

“And if I get it right?” he asks, lips at your ear.

Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. “Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Think of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.” 

He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. It’s a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.

He still hasn’t kissed you.

You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.

“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”

Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. “Mingyu is an idiot.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “The rubber chicken gave it away.”

You shake it at eye level. “Behold, man.”

“Lame,” his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.

“Oh please, I feel your boner.”

He doesn’t resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness. 

His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when he’d touch you like it’d burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter. 

You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you. 

The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else he’s generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldn’t look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now. 

“Wanna show me your room?” You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.

He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He can’t be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood. 

Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.

“Why is your boyfriend moping?” 

“Fuck if I know.” Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching. 

You’re loose enough not to care about Mingyu’s annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. “Cheer up buttercup, I’m sure there’s a Peach here into charity fucks!” 

It’s meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like he’s torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.

Maybe you did lie about being Wonwoo’s girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isn’t as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.

Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.

“Turn around.”

He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist. 

“If you’re thinking about touching my asshole, don’t. I have shit to do tomorrow,” you warn. 

On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.

“Noted, but not what I’m going for,” he jokes. 

Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. “Share with the class.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m shaking in my toga.”

“And you call me a loser.”

“I can call you some other things,” you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. “They aren’t as nice though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.” 

He’s a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldn’t even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.

The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before he’s on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.

Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwoo’s brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because there’s teeth and he makes it hurt. “Kiss me.”

Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. It’s not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwoo’s pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.

You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat. 

“Holy s-shit,” he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him. 

A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan. 

Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. They’re far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. “Remember that time we fucked in here last year?” 

“When you almost got us killed?”

Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheol’s. It’d been hot. Fucking when you aren’t supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).

“Do it again.”

His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.

“Really?” There’s no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.

“Choke me,” you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. “Sir.”

Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—”

“Because what?” you goad. “Gonna punish me?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Show up wearing this,” he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for.  “Asking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.”

You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. “N–not my fault you fuck me so good.” 

Wonwoo almost can’t control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. “God.”

Someone screams, “Leave room for Jesus!” from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasn’t dragging you to the bed. 

He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and you’re filled completely. 

“O-oh, fuck me,” you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.

He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. “You look so good— ah —taking my cock like this.” His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips. 

“W-want,” you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. “Wanna taste you.”

The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwoo’s there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwoo’s clothes off, you want to fuck him where there’s no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.

What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that he’s forced to a grinding halt. 

Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. “Touch yourself.”

You comply without further command. You’re wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwoo’s treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. “Fuck, Wonwoo — hmmm.” 

“Tell me how it feels,” he gasps like it’s his first breath in hours.

“Wet, so wet,” you croon, arching harder, joints locking. “Gonna cum. Oh my god.”

He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit. 

“Beg for it.” Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry. 

Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. “Please, please! I need—Want it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.”

Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. He’s worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession. 

“Harder, fuck me,” you demand. “Yes, yes, y–yes!”

If you were on top you’d fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwoo’s weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesn’t show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips. 

“Can I come in you?” he asks in a shivery breath.

You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like it’s a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth you’ve never gotten used to in all the months you’ve fucked without condoms. 

His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away. 

You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. “Do you think you’ll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?”

Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. “I come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?”

Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagner’s announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because it’s a long discussion you’re not exactly sure what you want out of.

“Answer the question.”

“I hope not.”

The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. He’s nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.

“It’s our last Halloween party.”

“Wow, just like old times,” you snort. “Should I start crying? Then it’ll be just like freshman year all over.”

Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. “You wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if you’re gonna whip that out too – by all means.”

“God, we were so lame,” you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all because—

“Don’t rope me into that, miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’.” Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.

“That’s former miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’,” you trail off into his mouth. “And you’re one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.”

He bites your lip in retaliation. “I didn’t.”

“You did. I have the video from Mingyu.”

“I thought he was an idiot.”

“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”

You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshi’s. And it’s only the start.

“We can’t sleep here.”

Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. “I can’t ditch again, I’m on pledge duty.”

“You’re hiding in your room with me.”

“Okay, technically I’m on pledge duty.”

He wouldn’t stay here if he wasn’t required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that could’ve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping with that.” On cue, another whimper, clearly a man’s, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?

Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. “I’ll send one of the kids to walk you.”

“Wow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,” you sneer.

He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight that’ll leave neither of you satisfied. “Text me when you get home.”

You don’t.

There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. It’s always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope he’s too exhausted to even think about showing up.

Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work. 

Or you would’ve if someone didn’t sit down first.

“Oh.”

Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.

“I can just go…sit somewhere else…” You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m mad at you.”

He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. “You’re not mad at me.”

“Yes, I am,” you emphasize. 

“You’re a bad liar.”

Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit. 

You can’t tame the annoyed grin cracking your face.  “Fine, I’m not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.”

“Too much caffeine will kill you.”

“I can only hope,” you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.

Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well. 

“Is this penance?” 

“Something like that.” He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.

“Did you look at the study guide for Calc yet?”

Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwoo’s hand on your knee under the table helps too. 

“If I look at this anymore, I’ll run into traffic.”

“We’ve got the Nano project that needs some work,” you suggest. 

He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. “I’ve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when I’m done.”

You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.“I’m tutoring Seungkwan.”

“After?”

“He’s gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.”

“Then no school stuff,” he decrees with finality. “I’ll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.”

“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”

“Is it working?”

You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good – washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams ‘drag me to bed and nap the rest of the day’ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair he’s willing to go for your forgiveness.

“We can watch Yellowjackets,” he barters, packing his bag.

Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second it’s available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.

“You’re really trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

“I cannot sleep in that house,” he deadpans. “Please take mercy.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?”

He pauses, eyes glazing like it’s a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. “You looked hot.”

“You made that pretty clear.”

“Anyway, I’ll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.”

“Fine, but if there is no pad thai then don’t come.”

“Whatever my woman demands,” he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.

Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwoo’s abandoned chair. There’s no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact he’s a bit of a masochist. He’s not half bad at it and doesn’t really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if it’s complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.

You’re marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, “You're dating Wonwoo, right?”

Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. “What?”

“You and Wonwoo.”

What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.

“What about me and Wonwoo?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like you’re on the outs of some obvious joke. “Dating.”

If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.

“No.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“We’re just friends.”

When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is… Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. He’s fucking with you on purpose.

“Huh,” he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.

“‘Huh’ what?”

“I heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, that’s all.”

It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didn’t have the same life within the chemistry department then you’d never see each other. It’s convenient as it can possibly be. 

Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss you’s and you’d like it here’s. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call. 

But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side. 

Seungkwan can pretend it’s an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. “Who told you that?”

“Some pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.”

Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. “We’re not dating.”

“But you guys are always together.”

“We work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?”

“My room is next to his and it doesn’t sound like work to me.”

“How does me failing you sound?” you spit. 

Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless. 

Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.

This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagner’s favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. It’s the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously. 

But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to “diversify” your transcript and smile through the anxiety. 

Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.

“Jill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?” Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner. 

It’s not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwoo’s awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction. 

“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.

Dr. Wagner’s research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. It’s high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSec’s constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when they’re directed at you. 

Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagner’s lab that year. Go figure.

“I’ve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,” he nods. 

The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. You’re starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.

“Well, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,” Wonwoo shares. 

Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagner’s work isn’t cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.

“We’d be a mess if it wasn’t for her,” Dr. Wagner agrees. “The lab techs should write her a card.”

Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. “Wonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.”

“Also true.” Dr. Wagner smiles. “I told you, Harry, they’re my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.” She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place you’ve called home for four years.

The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters you’ve pulled this week. There’d be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like he’s seen a ghost tonight and won’t sleep himself.

Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, “My, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.” He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who can’t be more than nineteen. “It looks like I’ll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.”

Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.

You don’t beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when they’ve given up. 

You want to drown in it.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “What happens if one of us doesn't get in?”

“I–I don’t know.” He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. There’s no plan B for something like this

If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went he’d be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.

But it can’t be.

“Then we should end this.”

The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you can’t take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.

“What?” he says.

You can’t swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo won’t let you. Maybe you don’t want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw. 

“One of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and I’d rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.”

You won’t take it back but you won’t look at him either. 

“You think I’d hate you?” 

He’s staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.

“I would.” You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. “I’d hate it if you got in and I didn’t. Even though you deserve it and I couldn’t be mad about it. I’d hate it. All I’ve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I won’t ruin it for you just because I can’t have it.”

For a painstaking moment, he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you can’t even see his face in the stark street light. He doesn’t do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.

“What else is there? You’ve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you than—”

You heat close to explosion.“It’s not stu—”

Wonwoo rushes off the bench. “It is! It is because we’ve been dating for the past three years but you won’t even fucking admit it! You’ll tell some stupid pledge I’m your boyfriend but everytime I think we’ve worked it out – that you’re finally ready to talk about it – you pretend nothing is happening.”

“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesn’t want to stay and you can’t stop him from leaving. “Wonwoo.” 

“Stop.” His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. “Just…stop.” 

If you’re going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then you’ll break into a million pieces. You’d admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.

Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment. 

When you finally look up he’s far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.

Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete. 

Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him he’s right and that you’re an absolute idiot, he’s already blocked your number.

In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.

He won’t talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagner’s name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored. 

Other people notice too.

In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear he’ll pick them next.

In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.

Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isn’t. He doesn’t ask outright and there’s pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears you’ve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow. 

Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.

Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you don’t care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.

Your grades don’t suffer, and that’s the only thing you can cling to right now.

In Dr. Wagner’s office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you don’t even exist. 

You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagner’s and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.

And when it’s over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.

She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap. 

This is the bandaid rip you’ve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if you’re good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.

“It seems my attempt at friendly competition had some…unintended consequences.”

Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. “What?”

“Last year, the second my TAs found out I’d recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and I’d have to lay down the law. I don’t like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.”

“What?” you repeat again.

There’s a weight on your knee. You don’t even need to look to know it’s Wonwoo’s hand. He doesn’t look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.

“So what does this mean?”

“Dr. Collins can’t outright say it but he’s on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“I know, but the application is a formality at this point.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your work speaks for itself.”

Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way – no way – it’s this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. You’re sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagner’s desk. She keeps talking and you still haven’t looked at Wonwoo.

“I’m so proud of you both!” she beams. “And I’m sorry if I’ve…complicated things…for the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and I’ll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.”

The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.

Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.

“What the fuck.”

“What the fuck.”

Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals it’s not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. “What the fuck!”

You’re not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry? 

It’s a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. He’s not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, “What the fuck!”

You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.

Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like he’s afraid to let go. Like he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. You finally look at him, and it’s the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m stupid and stubborn and I’ve been so caught up in this program that I—”

“No,” he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.

“Let me finish.”

“No,” he says. “I like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish and—”

“I love you.”

You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. He’s at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.

“I’ve thought about what would happen if I didn’t get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt like…I don’t know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and I’m stupid, and I’m really bad at speeches so…feel free to shut me up or whatever.”

You wait for him to process what you’ve said – a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like he’s the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then they’d realize he’s terrible at hiding the way he feels.

“You love me?”

All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you don’t look away, you don’t ever want to look away from him again because you’d miss the way his face softens.

“Well, we’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s about time I told you.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. “You’re so annoying.”

“Hey!” you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.

“What the hell was that for?” 

He does it again.

“Stop biting me you freak, we’re in public.” You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.

“Whatever, you love me.”

He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because it’s fucking cold and the wind isn’t helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Why are you crying?”

You are. You don’t even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.

“Probably because I haven’t slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.” Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough it’s less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But it’s good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, “I promise I would have really ‘sloppy I love you sex’ but I’m so tired I think I might throw up.”

“You missed me.” he hums, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah, big head, I missed you. Now let’s sleep.”

“God,” he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. “I love you too.”

You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think you’d end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like you’re a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.

He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but he’s happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you weren’t part of it, you’d throw something at him because it’d be annoying. You might just be glowing too.

You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You don’t even remember falling asleep. 

When you wake up, it’s dark outside; which could mean it’s been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwoo’s crotch firm between your legs.

“Good morning to me,” you sigh.

He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.

“Got started without me?” Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever he’ll offer.

“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.” 

You snicker, “No wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.”

“What do you mean?” He traces your naked sides with his fingers.

“I’ll catch you up,” you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. “If you were my TA, I’d try to fuck you.”

“I’m trying to have’ sloppy I love you sex’ and you’re trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?”

He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. “Ooooo, tell me I’m bad.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“As I was saying,” he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. “Sloppy I love you sex.”

“Okay, okay.” You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. “O-oh, that’s—fuck.”

He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.

The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then he’d watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt. 

He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know you’re the one that taught him that and you can’t help but flare with pride. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” you chant blindly.

The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too. 

You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit.  You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. “Oh, Wonwoo – u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.”

Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.

He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.

“Roll over,” you pant.

Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. “Wanna do it like this.”

“Make love to me,” you croon.

He doesn’t even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?” 

“Getting to it. You like it when I come inside you?” Now he’s the one goading and you’re blushing like you’ve never fucked him before. To be fair, you haven’t fucked him as the man you’re in love with so it’s a first time for the both of you. Wonwoo’s drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.

“Love it.” 

“Good,” he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. “I love you.”

Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you can’t take it any more. 

Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. He’s still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. It’s vulnerable and soft and something you probably could’ve experienced years ago if you weren’t willfully blind.

“I love you, too.”

You whisper the confession so quietly it doesn’t even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.

Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesn’t make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. You’re still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.

“W-wonwoo,” you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. You’ll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now – with something new at the edge. Something needy. “More.”

He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy you’ll feel for days. You both want to drag this out – take hours to come apart and come together again and again – but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.

In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and it’s all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like it’s magic.

“Oh- oh, Wonwoo–” you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.

You’re swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.

“M cumming, baby – oh my god.” Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. “Love you—fuck.”

He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.

But you’re not done yet.

You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. “Can you go again?” 

Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. “You want me to die?”

“Worse ways to go,” you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.

“God. I didn’t know sappy sex meant you’d try to kill me,” he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. “You’re evil.”

“I’m in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,” you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.

“Yeah, well…” he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.

“You know…I’ll need a roommate in Boston.”

“Huh,” Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isn’t the best way to have this conversation but you’re both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.

“Know anyone interested?”

He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, “Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Me.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah —fuck—wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Even if I’m a cranky bitch?” Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.

His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, “yeah.”

You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you aren’t listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.

Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.

“Okay.” You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.

“Really?”

“I like having you around,” you admit, sinking down on his cock. “Makes me feel better.”

Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.

“A-about?”

Everything.

He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because it’s terrifying he can see you clearly. 

He’s lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like you’re possessed.

“Can’t last—” he chokes.

“S’okay,” you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. “Just wanna feel you.”

You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. “Fuck-k.”

You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. “Good?”

“Great,” he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss. 

When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.

Epilogue

4 months later…

There’s a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words you’ve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.

On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part of…

The big envelope in the mail today helped too.

Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time he’s your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and he’ll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical. 

And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. You’ve got $50 riding on the possibility.

You’re sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss you’ve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts. 

Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. “Pixel got adopted today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He’s moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.

You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it.  “That sucks.” 

“She needed a good home.” Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.

Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwoo’s volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. It’s weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But it’s exhausting.

So you don’t blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until he’s inhaled his food and the last third of yours.

“Babe.”

“What?” you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.

“What’s that?”

He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. It’s cramped in tight but in two months you’ll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so it’s only temporary.

You shrug and make another mark. “Oh, just something I picked up.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“Huh. Weird.” Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else it’s game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. “Then what’s the thing in the bathroom?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” you confirm.

Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.

Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dad’s lap and you’re $50 richer. Mingyu’s girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyu’s pouts about losing money.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

[mrs-weasley-reid]

JULY REC FICS

Hello, my sweets!! I wanted to try something out to provide my full and utter support to all the amazing writers I've come across in the form of monthly rec fics (starting this month). Join me in giving them love through comments and reblogs. It really is a joy to hear how you're doing as a writer. It makes up for all the angst we write lol

I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. And the number of fics will depend on how much I've read the entire month. Also, please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+, so MINORS should not be interacting in any way, especially when the authors themselves specify it.

— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer Reid

✿ a question unasked by @easy-there-leftovers ↳ SOOOO ADORABLE. I'm a workaholic craze gal, so it speaks to me on a silly level.

✿ missing the happy hormone by @lavenderspence ↳ I'm a sucker for Spencer fluff this month, what can I say? This fic Tina made had my waterworks going on for about a minute because it's so sweet

✿ desk duty by @reiderwriter ↳ All you have to know is the amount of evil laugh I made while reading this

✿ the theory of love by @ophelia-is-complex ↳ Genuine intimacy is quite a challenge to write, but THIS ONE, this one had me in a sappy mood

✿ like nothing matters by @cerisereids ↳ gagged and had to pause the reading so many times because HELLO— had me spiraling at work

✿ the devils disguise by @qlossytbh ↳ I said I sobbed a little bit, but I actually cried so much I ended up taking a nap and felt better afterward. It's all fluff, though, don't get me wrong. I'm just very dramatic when the red devil's on the clock

✿ not so funny by @reidmania ↳ Angsty, that made me wanna start a fight with some random twiggy tall guy. Sooooo good!

✿ cloaked in passions touch by @raekensluver ↳ If you don't like Spencer's hands, you're fucking lying to yourself!!!!!

✿ language of devotion by @gghostwriter ↳ I'm in love with reid, and this fic just had me stumbling back onto his lap like a good gal

✿ this req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ Sorry, I'm not sure what the title is, but it's so adorable and got me to go to work, so kind of a lifesaver tbh

✿ hallucinate by @gghostwriter ↳ Oooo, this one was so cute, hehe. Honestly, I lean towards Spencer fluff lately just because I've been too overstimulated with work this past month, so READ THIS ONE ITS CUTE

✿ it's golden, like daylight by @dudeitiskarev ↳ I actually felt like I was reader the entire time I read this. It's well-written and so adorable and something that should be framed in a museum

✿ much ado about nothing series by @incognit0slut ↳ binged it all morning, and I was whipped !!! It's ongoing, so if I have to wait, so does everybody else

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron Hotchner

✦ choiceless hope series by @hotchfiles ↳ This series had me rolling over my bed on a Saturday. A lot of feelings getting played (mostly mine)

✦ beanstalk by @solardrop ↳ I kid you not; I was giggling like a weirdo when I read it. And that itself deserves the recommendation.

✦ too busy being yours by @hotchfiles ↳ Lari knows how to get a sick gal to giggle. I love bau!rossi!reader. I love Rossi as reader's dad, so I enjoyed it more than I thought I would

✦ ignorance by infatuation by @boneblushed ↳ Oh, this one was a nice snack while on my break at work. LOVED IT SO MUCH

✦ hungover by @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi ↳ Mmmm, such a good read! Plus Jemily is there sooooo

✦ from across the bar by @hotchscoffeecup ↳ Evil laugh ensues. A nice cuppa of some good ole kinky stuff

✦ doomed by @hotchfiles ↳ guys, I stopped my car in the middle of driving home just to read it, so it's THAT good. Honestly, I strongly encourage everyone to read all of Lari's works! She's my writer crush, if none of you realized it by now

✦ a bunch of cuties in love by @lavenderspence ↳ hehehehehehe this definitely did not remind me of that one older guy I used to flirt with who had an adorable younger brother that I babysat🤭

✦ schrodinger's cat by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ angst on a Saturday morning is like taking a shot of soju before 11 am, and this one felt like it <3

how about you also comment your top 3 fave fics for this month to spread more love to our great writers?

[crownmemes]

Alcohol & Drinking Sentences

(Sentences for muses who like to drink, sometimes perhaps a little too much. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"You're not trying to ply me with wine to find out what I know, are you?"

"I would offer you a drink but it's very rare and expensive."

"If you keep drinking, you're going to get fired."

"I must say, I'd rather hoped 'tea' was code for something a little stronger."

"Are you hungover?"

"I like you better when you're drinking."

"Are you drinking all alone tonight?"

"You're a mean drunk."

"You drink too much. I get why, but I wish you wouldn't."

"I'm going to erase that image from my mind with a bottle of scotch."

"Did I mention that I have been drinking?"

"Why are you drinking so much tonight anyway?"

"If I don't drink, then I start to feel - and I don't like what I feel."

"Would you like a drink?"

"Isn't there anyone you want to stay sober for?"

"I haven't been like this in a long time. Years."

"I'm not drunk!"

"I must be drunk already, telling you this sob story again."

"I'm not drinking to get drunk."

"A guy only gets that drunk when he wants to kiss a girl or kill a man - so, which is it?"

"You can't keep drinking yourself into oblivion!"

"I've been to a party. I'm a bit drunk."

"Some people swear by hair of the dog, but I refer nature's sponge: the egg."

"I think you've had enough to drink."

"May I have a drink now?"

"Why don't you have a glass of champagne?"

"I'm not used to doing this while sober."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

[disneyprincemuke]

of drunk regrets * fem!driver

the morning after vegas

what does one do when you have no recollection of getting married?

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, mick schumacher x fem!driver

notes: hi late update and that’s because i was crocheting the entire day lol

(series masterlist)

she hums turning around, her arm landing on something solid instead of a soft pillow. she opens an eye, flinching back when her eyes land on someone’s clothed back, then groans when nausea slowly hits her.

“who the fuck is this?”

the person next to her hums. they left their head before dropping it back into the pillow. “mm.”

she looks around to the best of her ability, snorting when she realises that amidst all her drunken antics from the night before, they didn’t even end up on the bed. they’re sleeping on the carpeted floor of her hotel room.

she lifts her head, ignoring the nausea hitting her all at once. the bed is empty.

a hand comes up to nurse her head, looking down at the body lying next to her with the blanket draped over their shoulder loosely. she brought somebody back to her hotel room with her? now that’s just a tabloid rumour waiting to blow up in her face when she opens up her phone.

she leans forward, wobbling slightly, as she tries to get a glimpse of their face. her eyes widen, landing a smack on their shoulder with some force. "what the hell are you doing here?"

"don't hit me, i'm trying to sleep."

"mick! you're in my hotel room!"

"what?" blue eyes are exposed to the dim lights of the room, disappearing once more when mick shuts his eyes. "what am i doing here?"

"how would i know?" she sighs, slowly lying back down on the ground. "i don't remember anything."

"we didn't do anything... did we?"

she looks down at herself, surprisingly dressed in her pyjamas without any recollection of even making it back into her hotel room in the first place. "i hope not."

"you hope?" mick cries, shaking his head in dismay. "this is not good."

"give me a second. i need to think," she sighs, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "start thinking. do you remember anything from last night?"

mick also sighs, simply shaking his head. he pulls the blanket over his body and snuggles back into his pillow. "no, but wake me up when you've figured it out. i'm really hungover right now, mate."

"really? you don't think i am?"

"i'm sure you are, but– what the hell is this on my finger? when did i get a mood ring?"

"you have a mood ring?" there's a momentary pause. "oh, look. i've got one too. when did i–"

they both sit up hurriedly, hissing in pain as they point at each other with a loud gasp. "no! are you serious? did we really do that? when did we even have the time to do that?"

mick cries. "my mother is going to kill me."

"mine will kill me – i'm barely 21, mick!"

"i'm going to american jail! you're not even legal here!" he rubs his eyes. “i don’t wanna go to jail here!”

she scrambles around for her phone, eyes widening at her notifications.

SUPERMAX you and mick???

RATSELL what's ur ig post about m8?

LOWGAN when u wake up, there's a cup of water and an advil on the bedside for u also, check ur instagram

PASTRY you did the funniest thing last night.

LILLIES thanks for the free pizza wish i could've been there for the actual ceremony though? it's ok, maybe at your next wedding

ALBONO please tell me you didn't

LAW SON i think u may have sent logan over the edge cuz wtf is bro doing in my hotel room ranting to charlotte and i at 5am

MICKEY ur asleep rn i can't sleep when do u think we should renew our vows??? oh no we got married!??!??!

BLYTHE mate u got married without me in attendance??? not saying i'm offended but like seriously?

THE BETTER SARGEANT who u married to? if it's logan istg omg is it mick? i saw ur instagram

LANCE

congrats!!!

if i’d known sooner, i’d have bought you a wedding gift before landing in vegas

i’ll get one before the last race i promise

SEBASTIAN ur very funny, do u know that? text me when ur up, we should talk

MUMMY wowww let me know what wedding gift to get you you grow up so fast, my love

PAPA what is all this ruckus i'm hearing between mum and blythe about you getting married? call me.

KRISTEN (PR) team meeting asap. bring the schumacher.

she glances at mick. "my dad's going to kill you."

mick turns to her, shoulders slumped with his eyes widened in panic. "i really really hope my mother gets to me first." he shakes his head and pats around the ground for his phone. "you know what? i'll just tell her myself."

“don’t bother,” she scoffs, lying back down in the pillow sprawled on the floor. “i vividly remember you calling gina when we were getting pizza that you married me in vegas.”

kristen chews on the inside of her cheek, scanning the group around her. "what is this? i only told you to bring mick."

the girl takes off the sunglasses on her face and sighs. "you think i didn't try telling them off? is this your first time meeting these losers? i– listen, i'm too hungover to tell them off, kristen."

"please let us stay?" max smiles, batting his eyelashes at the older woman. "i promise we'll be quiet. i'm just curious over the events of last night."

"so am i," kristen points out in a soft voice, moving her eyes over the pair seated on the couch on the other side of her table. at that point, they are the least of her concerns. "do you know the pr nightmare you just caused over a couple of drinks? do you have any idea the reckless thing you just did?"

"please don't shout," she says softly, eyes closing. "it was stupid, we know. in my defense–"

"they shouldn't have even let us in the chapel in the first place in that state," mick sighs, shaking his head disapprovingly. “so technically, whose fault is it, really?”

“both of yours for even coming up with the stupid idea in the first place!” logan screams, pointing at them in frustration. “you made a bad decision!”

kristen glances at logan, shooting him a side eye for disrupting her meeting. when logan shrugs, she simply looks back at the married pair her seats. “you’re not even 21! you did this in america too! god!”

“and they shouldn’t have permitted it knowing that i wasn’t 21!” the young girl shrieks, immediately defending herself. this is a hill she is willing to die on. “let’s focus more on the fact that they let two drunk idiots get married instead of the fact that i thought of it.”

“you came up with that idea?” max throws his head back, hissing softly as he shook his head. “why am i not surprised?”

“right? you have to tell her how stupid she is for this,” logan rambles in frustration. “seriously! you couldn’t go one year without making a stupid decision?

she rolls her eyes, glancing at mick from the side of her eyes. he flashes her an apologetic grin and she shrugs with another eye roll in response.

“i mean, you’re an adult. you can do whatever you want, but do you know how legally exhausting the entire process will be from here on out?” max continues, throwing his arms in the air. “knowing you, you won’t like it! there’s a lot of papers to sign!”

“and paper work to read!” logan adds on. “seriously!”

“god, (y/n), how could you be so stu–“

“i came up with the idea,” mick speaks out, turning to max and logan with a small smile. “it’s not her fault, you guys. come on. lay off her a little bit.”

she shoots him a questioning stare. “no, wait–“

mick laughs. “the deal at the pizza place just looked so good. i’m not excusing it because we were drunk, but cut us some slack.”

sebastian, sitting quietly in the corner of the room, finally stands up. he folds his arms over his chest. “it doesn’t matter who came up with the crazy idea to get married in vegas.”

“you’re still not mad?” logan raises an eyebrow. “there’s got to be some part of you that is.”

“how about let me conduct my meeting with my driver in peace? unless you want to take over my job of being her pr officer…” kristen speaks out, looking around the room to shut down any more forms of interruption. she looks back at her. “let me see the marriage certificate.”

“the what?”

“you signed one, didn’t you?“

she scrunches her nose and looks at mick. “did we sign one? i really can’t remember.”

“i don’t,” mick cuts himself off, looking just as clueless, “i literally blacked out last night. i don’t remember anything.”

sebastian beams, standing a little straighter. “i have it right here! look at it, kristen.”

he puts down a piece of paper on the table. the entire room watches the woman read over the paper, lips pressed together.

a small laugh bubbles from her, grabbing the certificate into her hands and bringing it closer to her face. her laugh gets a little louder, sebastian eventually joining her with a hand over his mouth.

“what is so funny?” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “all i can think about is the shopping spree i can’t have this month over the lawyer fees.”

“and the fact that i could end up in american jail for marrying a 20-year-old!”

kristen grins, slamming the certificate down onto the table. “it’s illegitimate.”

“what?”

“oh?”

“surprising turn of events!”

“illegitimate?”

a hand slams into the table, the youngest in the room jumping to her feet. “illegitimate? what about my free pizza? how is that illegitimate? i’m not a schumacher anymore?”

“you changed your name?” oscar pipes up, roaring in laughter, covering his face. this entire ordeal has been very amusing to him.

she turns around sheepishly with a small smile. “i was planning to. how cool would it be to be a schumacher?”

“what the fuck?” logan says to her, bewildered at the thought process. “you’re not married and you’re telling me that’s the only thing you’re concerned about? not being a schumacher in the eye of the law?”

mick giggles, looking up at her with an impressed expression. “schumacher does go along well with your name.”

“i know. should we get married for realsies after this weekend and legally change my name?”

“have you learned nothing from this?” kristen throws her hands into the air. she leans back into her seat, letting out the heaviest sigh of relief as she no longer has to engage with any legal teams. pr wise, it would be easy.

she shrugs, sitting back down into the cushioned seat. “don’t get drunk with mick in vegas.”

“first and last time i’m drinking that much with you,” mick adds on with a snort. though, there’s a small smile playing on his face as he looks at her.

they both know that won’t be the last time they’ll be sending their pr officers into a frenzy. they’re truly a force to be reckoned with.

and, it could have been worse.

“i paid for all the pizzas you ate and threw up last night,” sebastian sighs, shaking his head. “you owe me like $100.”

she nods. “okay, i’ll pay you. still no shopping spree for me this month, i guess.”

mick clicks his tongue, giving her a thumbs up. “i’ll pay him. consider it my wedding gift to you, wife.”

“she’s not your wife,” logan points out with an eye roll. “didn’t even get married in the first place, remember? illegitimate. not even a real certificate. never happened. literally no record of it.”

“i’m curious,” max furrows his eyebrows and lips pouted out. “how did you pull this off to make it seem real, seb?”

“i arrived to their ‘wedding’–“

“not real!”

“logan, cut it out.”

“–before them. i spoke to the receptionist before they arrived; they don’t let drunk people get married. i convinced her to give them the slot anyway just to teach these two a lesson.”

“impressive?” kristen smiles. “you just saved me a lot of paper work.”

“and mick the beating he’d get from her dad if it actually ever happened to go through.”

she smiles, leaning over the arm rest to whisper at mick. she taps him on the shoulder. “we should celebrate with ice cream.”

— bonus

they flood out of the office collectively, the young girl looking down at the mood ring around her ring finger. “we should keep the rings, shouldn’t we, mick? keepsake.”

“to remind you of your bad decision making?” logan questions.

“no, to piss you off.” she turns around and shoves him back gently. “of course, just to keep memory of the one time i was almost a schumacher!”

sebastian tilts his head. “you know you’ll still be you, right? even if you’re legally considered a schumacher? you won’t get his blue eyes.”

“i could,” she hums with a smile. “so, husband. watching the race from my garage tonight like a factory manufactured wag?”

“can’t, wife,” mick sighs. “i work for mercedes.”

“i could get you the second seat if you wanted.”

“you have the power to do that?” she nods. “that’s hot.”

“cut it out, you guys are making max uncomfortable!” oscar grunts, pushing the pair apart.

beside them, max has his fingers plugged into his ears and is humming softly to himself. “it’s not real, it’s not real. they’re not actually married,” he whispers to himself. “and it will never happen.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @darleneslane @meadhbhcavanagh @namgification @inejismywife @2bormaybenot @love4lando

[itsjustaninchident]

To the moon and to Saturn 🪐

Lando Norris x Model!Reader

socmed au

summary: where they give the audience chaos because of their rumored "breakup"

warning/s: sexual innuendos (if you squint)

author's note: just a little something to get me out of writing slump 🥹 there's a part 2 to this fic if you wanna check it out🫶

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, lilymhe, and 203,839 others

yourusername busy week

view 2,394 comments...

user1 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user2 PLEASE MARRY ME

user3 mother is living her best life and im here for it

user4 GET OUT OF THE WAY LANDO IM GONNA STEAL HER

user5 kinda sus no lando in the comments simping over how hot she is

user6 TRUE he usually comments and likes her post like a second after she posted it 😭

user7 there's got to be something

user8 no there's just something wrong in y'all's head...

user9 yeah leave them and their relationship alone

yourfriend back and better in black

liked by yourusername

user10 interesting...🥴

user11 what do they mean by this😭

user12 maybe because it's been awhile since yn got back in modeling after her supporting lando and going on a vacation with him?

user13 you guys are reading into this too much

lando.jpg

liked by maxfewtrell, pierregasly, and 897,475 others

lando.jpg parties and a tad bit hungover...

view 23,495 comments...

user1 YOU CAN'T JUST POST THE 2ND PHOTO AND GET AWAY WITH IT

user2 i believe he's thirst trapping his way out of the issue

user3 what issue?

user2 some are saying him and yn broke up

user3 lol people are too obsessed with their relationship im not surprised we won't get any posts from them anymore lol

user2 true

maxfewtrell nice music but please don't throw up on me next time

maxverstappen1 why was i not invited

landonorris you were busy with something else🙄🙄🙄

maxverstappen1 oh i see you're still on it...

user4 am i delusional if i think this is about yn ?????

user5 babes im gonna be delusional with u

user6 yeah no❤️

user4 what if they just fought?

user6 what if you all leave them alone lol

danielricciardo nice party, hoping for that one more important invite next time😜

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 237 others

user7 don't mean to ruin the vibes but where's my girl yn :((

yourusername

liked by charlottesine, isahernaez, yourfriend, and 890,938 others

yourusername welcome to new york

view 23,103 comments...

user1 THE GIRLS ARE BACK

user2 THEY'RE SO HOT

user3 WAIT SHE'S IN NEW YORK???

user4 CAN'T BELIEVE MOTHER AND I ARE BREATHING THE SAME AIR

user5 im sorry but it's been like a month of them not posting each other😭

user6 it's been a bad month for us😭

user7 my parents :'(

user8 them in one frame is too much to handle

user9 uhmmm why is she hanging out with the exes????👀

user10 maybe because they're still friends and her girlfriends' breakups has nothing to do with their friendship???

user11 ikr... is she like a member of the club now?

user12 i hope not lol

isahernaez missed you so much! And im so happy for you❤️

liked by yourusername and 1,790 others

user13 her liking it...

user14 she's happy for her meaning she's like in a better place now????😭

user15 don't do this to me

user16 geez they cant even say anything that you guys do not to relate to her relationship lmao

via twitter...

via instagram...

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, and 2,347,987 others

landonorris just married my best friend, the love of my life, and my better half. I love you until one can reach the sky.

tagged: yourusername

view 89,739 comments...

user1 WE WERE MOURNING THEIR "BREAK UP" ONLY TO BE WOKEN UP TO THIS POST😭

user2 this is my childhood bestfriends to lovers trope!

user3 no cause where's mine?!

user4 this is so much better than a black background and default font ig story announcement that they broke up😭

carlossainz55 i hope yn can make it through the night when she hears you snore

landonorris I don't snore!

carlossainz55 sure and birds cant fly

yourusername some birds can't

landonorris see???

yourusername but you do snore love

user5 IVE MISSED TIMES LIKE THIS😭

maxverstappen1 can't believe you got married before me

user6 you better watch your step mister, I'm literally right behind you.

landonorris 🫡 i would not dare

yourfriend oh yeah you'll never hear the end of it

yourusername stop threatening my husband😭

user7 "husband"😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 all of us are crying

lewishamilton congrats mate!

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 72,309 others

yourusername

liked by carmenmmundt, lilymhe, and 1,295,670 others

yourusername Love you to the moon and to Saturn❤️

tagged: landonorris

view 50,405 comments...

user1 no because you don't know how happy i am for them😭

user2 i can finally sleep in peace at night with a smile on my face knowing my parents literally got married

user3 i have never once cried over celebrity couples getting married but this😭

user4 kinda valid knowing how much they went through just to be where they are now😭

user5 from them being childhood bestfriends to being enemies to being best friends again and now they're married?!😭

user6 im so happy for them 🥺

lilymhe congrats love! just tell me if lando hurts you I will literally snatch you from him

yourusername you're first on my contacts

landonorris hey! no fair

charlottesine gotta admit i shed a tear seeing you walk down the aisle🥺 so happy for you!

yourusername love you cha!

user7 yn is so blessed with her husband and her friends🥺

user8 and they're very blessed with her too🥺 she's like the gentlest most loving person ever

liked by landonorris and 29,654 others

landonorris very lucky to have her as my wife

user9 THEY JUST CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF CALLING EO HUSBAND/WIFE😭

user10 im gonna bathe with my toaster

user11 gonna lay down on the road

yourusername awww are you trying to ask for more lasagna?

landonorris did it work?

yourusername nope :P maybe kisses will do for now?

landonorris never mind the lasagna, brb gonna get it you owe me about a hundred ;)

user12 not them flirting under the comments!!😭 Get a room!😭

user13 oh they're abt to

[ifimdreaming]

can i take you home?

luke hughes x reader || angst, fluff

request: “i like the idea of her best friend going to michigan/dating a former teammate of lukes so thats how luke and reader meet! i love angst and given that its lukes rookie year/she goes to college in another state, maybe they could be friends w benefits but both have strong feelings.”

author's note: i thought this request was so so cute so i kind of took it and ran. also kinda influenced by i miss you, im sorry by gracie abrams. this is also super long but i hope the ending is worth it. let me know if i should do more parts of this!

word count: 5.0k

-

Waking up to the sound of your best friend pounding on the guest bedroom door at 7am was not exactly the best way to start your day. But since you are staying the weekend in her student house that she shares with 5 other people, there are definitely unluckier ways you could have been awoken. 

“Morning sleepy head!!! I'm so happy you're up!” your best friend Emma almost shouts as she barges in the room, after you very reluctantly told her she could come in. She immediately begins opening the curtains, and rummaging through her closet to find her outfit for the day.

In her haste she almost spills the two cups of coffee she had brought up from the kitchen as she sets them on the dresser beside the bed, her mug being almost completely empty anyway. You can tell by her enthusiasm and caffeine intake that she has been up for quite a long time before deciding to wake you up. 

You groggily roll over and face away from the wide open curtains, not ready to face the day yet and really disappointed in yourself for choosing to drive up so late last night in the first place.

Of course you were happy to be able to visit your best friend, the two of you going to different schools making it incredibly hard to spend much time together anymore. But being back here brought back so many memories of the last time you visited. Both good and bad. And to be honest, all you could think about was him. From the very moment Emma invited you, he has been on your mind nonstop. 

The way he made you feel so utterly adored when he brought you back to his room, how he spoke to you so gently and quietly the one morning when you were hungover, the time he spilled and called you ‘his’ while you were in bed together, and how much it seemed like it would last forever. It was all coming back so strongly.

“So, what are the plans for the day Little Miss Sunshine?” you sit up, reluctantly speaking your first words of the day after clearing your throat. 

“Well! First I thought we'd go get bagels for breakfast from down the street, and then I think one of us may need a quick shower before we officially start our day…” Emma says with a hand on the side of her mouth, pretending to be saying a secret as she is side-eyeing you, and you just stare at her offendedly, “Aaand we are doing something tonight so maybe we should go shopping..” she says quickly and excitedly, clearly brushing past what exactly it is that we are doing tonight.

“Alright then.” you say as you check your phone for probably the 20th time in the 10 minutes you've been awake. And you can see Emma staring at you from the corner of your eye so you decide to throw your phone to the other side of the bed, getting up and ready to go. You knew she wasn't oblivious, but you did not want to acknowledge the look she was giving you right now, and honestly it did not seem necessary to bring anything up.

Besides, this weekend isn't even about him. Dylan's surprise birthday party is tomorrow and your best friend was so excited to be planning it with your help. She hadn't done anything this extravagant for her boyfriend before and she wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

Obviously the last thing you would want to do is ruin this weekend for her, and your stupid feelings and non-relationship are included in that.

-

The walk to the bagel shop seemed awkwardly long as you were both not acknowledging the fact that your mind is very very distracted. It wasn't intentional. But feelings and places have such strong connections and the fact that things felt so unresolved was not helping. Everywhere you are here reminds you of him.

“How's your bagel?” Emma speaks up, finally breaking the silence on your walk home, thankfully giving you an opportunity to get out of your thoughts.

“Oh it's good! Thanks! I was super hungry…” you say, trying to muster up a believable enough reason for why you've been so off today. 

You continue walking and shuffling your feet in silence and are about to return back to the house before Emma looks at you and sighs loudly.

So. Close. You are literally about to step onto the driveway of the house when she stops you. 

“Ok can we just talk about it please? Because there is no way we are going to get through this entire weekend just ignoring it.” she says, stepping in front of you and blocking any sort of way for you to get out of this conversation. 

“What are you talking about?” you say with a grumble and a sigh. Knowing she is going to get it out of you. Obviously she would.

“Luke.” Emma says deadpan, waiting for your response.

For some reason at this moment you wanted to cry just hearing his name. But you also wanted to yell. Your feelings were confusing and annoying and it upset you to even have to talk about it with someone, even though you knew you should.

“I don't know. I DON'T KNOW. I can't stop thinking about him, and everything is so confusing.” you whisper-yell at her in frustration. 

It pained you to admit that you couldn't get him off your mind. You didn't realise how much you even liked him until having to admit that.

“He visited me during christmas… I mean, he did in the fall, but this time felt different.” You continue,  “We slept together again. Everything felt like it was going so well…And now nothing.” you admit to her and wipe your face with your sleeves, angry at the tears that have fallen from your eyes. 

“Has he called?” She asks warily.

“Once? Last week. It was short… but he sounded sad. He said he misses me. And he told me he really wanted to visit me. And I've texted him since then and no response.” you look down at your feet as you speak. It really shouldn't be this embarrassing to admit. It's not like you were in a relationship with him anyway.

“He's going to be here...tomorrow? I didn't know if you knew..” Emma says as she grabs your arm and slowly brings you close to her as you begin walking inside together and you nod your head in her direction.

You knew he would be here. Dylan is one of his best friends, obviously he isnt going to miss his 21st birthday. But with how things were currently going, it honestly made you wonder if Luke would even want you here. And what do his friends even know about you two? Has Luke said anything? So many questions are going through your head that it is almost making you dizzy.

-

The rest of the day is so much lighter after your earlier conversation. Emma is exponentially good at cheering people up, and maybe even to a fault, will always be on your side no matter what. But you appreciated it regardless.

You are currently finishing up putting on your makeup and getting ready to go out tonight, still very unaware of what the plan even is. But you didn't have much of a choice in the matter as Emma has picked out every aspect of your outfit tonight - down to the shoes, makeup, and jewellery.

Suddenly Emma gets a call from Dylan and runs into her bathroom to answer the phone, the music cutting out that was playing from her phone as she heads off, and silence filling the room.

You weren't intending to be eavesdropping, but you are able to hear muffled voices from the other side of the door and very hushed arguing that you couldn't quite make out. Making you curious as to what could possibly be going on tonight.

Emma saunters back into the room with hesitancy, her expression is scared and concerned at the same time as she is approaching you almost in slow-motion, saying nothing.

“What is it? Just spit it out.” you say, already knowing you are either about to hear the worst news of all time or the worst news of all time.

“Ok surprise! We're going out for sushi! Yay!” Emma says, obviously starting with the good news and you stay silent.

“And…Luke is coming out with us.” she continues, flinching at her own words as she plops herself on the bed across from you. You sit at her desk, makeup in hand, and cannot help but have an absolutely astonished look on your face. 

Nothing is able to even leave your mouth as her words run through your mind again and again.

“I am so SO sorry.” She starts. “One of the guys accidentally told Dylan that Luke is in town and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise for tomorrow, so I told Dylan that Luke and I were trying to surprise him tonight for dinner. I didn't know what else to say. It was literally the first thing that came to my mind. I'm so sorry.” she continues, worried she has done irreparable damage on your friendship.

“You can kill me now.” Emma blurts out defeatedly, wanting to keep the surprise for tomorrow and not wanting all her efforts to be ruined the day before the party.

Obviously you love that girl, but very much did want to kill her in this moment.

“Does Luke know I'm going to be there?” you ask, brushing past everything else she has said.

“Dylan said he would tell him, yeah, but if you don't want to come please don't feel like you have to.” she says with a small smile, hoping you have some-what forgiven her.

“No, I'll still come.” you say quietly but matter-of-factly.

If Luke knew you were coming, it would be weird if you decided to stay home now because of it, and besides, what would you do here alone? Thinking of what he would be doing and wishing you could read his mind is all you can think of.

“OH? This is good! Ok! Dylan said he is picking us up in 20 minutes!” Emma states, suddenly very excitedly, hoping it will cheer you up to see that she is excited. And as you continue getting ready, nervous energy and anticipation fill your body.

- 

Dylan shows up right on time, unfortunately for you, not giving you any extra time to sit and wallow in your feelings.

It was inevitable that you would be seeing Luke this weekend, but this quickly and under these conditions was not exactly ideal. You were hoping to at least be able to have a one-on-one conversation with him before being thrown into random get togethers where things have no chance but to be awkward.

The drive to dinner is surprisingly happy. Dylan seems so excited to be seeing his best friend again. He can't stop talking about the last time they saw each other and how long it has been. And Emma's laughter and giddy energy is helping you calm down and distract you just a little bit.

“The reservation is for 7pm so we might have to wait in the car for a few minutes.” Emma says, checking her phone as Dylan pulls up to the restaurant a bit early. 

The dim lighting and intimate booths look extremely inviting as you peer inside the windows of the restaurant from the parking lot. You can't help but get distracted by watching people inside as Emma and Dylan talk from the front seats of the car and are cutely chatting to each other quietly.

“There's my boy!” Dylan yells out as he jumps out of the driver's seat, running up to give Luke a hug across the parking lot.

“Ready?” Emma looks back and asks you, reassuringly placing her hand on your knee and rubbing her thumb up and down a few times.

“Guess so…” you say with a fake smile as you grab your purse from beside you, and as you are about to leave the car, you see a tall figure standing right outside your door.

Only a little bit startled, you look up to see Luke as he opens your door for you and greets you with a tired smile. He is dressed nicely in black pants and a cream cable knit sweater, his hair curly and tousled up like always. 

As you step out of the car he brings you into a tight hug, like he just couldn't wait to hold you again.

“I missed you…” Luke whispers so quietly into your ear that you almost couldn't hear him. He swiftly leaves a gentle kiss to the side of your head as he brings his hands just a bit lower down your back, “I’m sorry” he says quietly as he releases you.

As much as you want to reciprocate, you are so caught off guard by his words that you just stare up at him without a word.

“Alright let's go! I'm so hungry!” Dylan says, unaware of the tension, as he pats Luke's back and wraps an arm around him, walking in front of you and Emma and into the restaurant. 

Emma is glancing at you as you walk together, waiting to hear from you what Luke said, but you decide to ignore it with a shrug and she looks away. 

-

Dinner is filled with laughter and catching up with one another. Surprisingly it wasn't even half as awkward as you built it up to be. Dylan chatting away with Luke as you and Emma giggle across from each other about all the drama at your respective schools. 

Having a couple of drinks throughout the night was definitely helping, but regardless of that, you felt good. Really good.

“Luke, how's the love life going for you? You got a girl in Jersey?” Dylan asks with a laugh as Emma had just bragged about her and Dylan going on 2 years of being together.

She shoots you a regretful look as she hits Dylan's side with her elbow, not as discreetly as she probably wanted to, and your face turns bright red.

Luke looks down at his lap and shakes his head with a chuckle, seemingly avoiding eye contact with you at all costs.

“No man, no girl in jersey.” Luke says lightly as he takes a drink of his beer before the two of you make eye contact and he glances down to your fidgety hands that are in your lap. 

“My bad, my bad…” Dylan says with a laugh as he clears his throat and starts back to finishing the food on his plate, Emma quietly shushing her clueless boyfriend beside her.

Your nervous hands continue to pick at your cuticles and you look over to see Luke inching his hand closer beside yours on the booth bench. Looking up from your lap, you see him glancing back at you as he waits for your reaction before discreetly taking your hand in his under the table.

The feeling of his hand in yours is so comforting and familiar and immediately eases your anxiousness. But you still feel so conflicted.

Luke always knew how to comfort you and distract you from your thoughts when they were out of control. Especially during busy school semesters and many nights spent together with him keeping you company while you anxiously wrote papers and prepped for exams. 

He seemed to be there for you when it felt like you had no one else. At least that's how it used to feel. Now things feel so complicated. Not knowing the status of your relationship surprisingly taking a much larger toll on your ability to act like friends than you would have ever thought.

“So! I've got the bill tonight guys. Happy birthday Dyl!” Emma blurts out as the waiter approaches the table, she leans over to give her boyfriend a loving kiss, comfortably filling the awkward silence that had just taken over the table not long before.

“Thank you baby! And hey! thanks guys for coming out tonight too.” Dylan smiles at the both of you as he lifts up his glass for a toast. You all clink your glasses, wishing him happy birthdays that follow big swigs of your almost empty alcoholic beverages.

Walking out of the restaurant, your mind fills with running thoughts. You wish you had spoken to Luke more tonight but it was hard to not make anything obvious. He seemed good, but still weirdly sad and you wanted to talk to him about it so badly. You wanted to talk to him about everything.

As you near Dylan's car you feel Luke's hand brush against yours and lightly hold your wrist, turning you around to face him.

“Can I take you home?” Luke shyly asks you as you all stand in the parking lot together. You mutter a “sure” under your breath with a nod, and he looks to Dylan and Emma for confirmation, both of them nodding in agreement before bringing you into tight hugs and saying goodbyes.

“Tell me everything that happens girly.” Emma runs back over to you and whispers into your ear as she hugs you goodbye once more, and all you can do is let out a small laugh in response to her teenage-esque behaviour.

-

After Dylan and Emma drive away, the short walk over to Luke’s car suddenly seems agonisingly long and your heart is racing in anticipation. Over anything else that happens tonight, you really wanted clarity. But of course, thoughts of the worst possible outcome ever sneak their way into your mind.

Luke opens the passenger side door for you and you climb into his car before he gently closes the door and walks to the other side. As he gets in, he begins to start the car before he looks over to you and pauses, the quiet becoming almost painful. 

You didn't know what to say, and you didn't want to say the wrong thing. So, waiting for him to break the silence seemed to be your best bet.

“I know I should have thought of something to say…” He starts, and shuffles in his seat, slightly bending his right leg so he is facing you a little more.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stopped responding to you.” Luke continues, and you almost want to roll your eyes at his apology. It was so hard to be understanding when this felt like such a preventable situation on his part.

But you knew Luke. You knew when he was scared he got distant. You knew he was pulling back from you. You just didnt know why.

“Things have been so…weird…lately, and I just…I know I fucked up.” He confesses.

You didn't want to be reading between the lines anymore. You just wanted him to be honest with you about what he wants, and it frustrated you that he was being so vague.

“Luke, what do you want? Like, from me?” you ask innocently, but squint your eyes closed tightly as the words coming out of your mouth sound completely different from what you intended.

“Like, you told me we were friends. And obviously I was ok with that. But when you would visit me, we’d sleep together. And when you left it was like. I don't know…” you look down and pick at your fingers as you speak, looking up at him feeling like an almost impossible task.

“You told me you wanted to be friends.” Luke states, and gently grabs your hand. He holds it in his to stop you from destroying your fingers as you speak, which causes you to look up at him, thanking him silently, as he waits on your response.

“I said that because I knew how hard it would be for us to be so far away from each other.” you say strongly, feeling the sudden need to defend yourself.

“You know how important school is to me, and I know how important your career is to you. I don't want to distract you from what's important to you. I don't want to be the one that gets in the way of things, or be the reason why you're not as focused as you could be…as much as I want to be-” you begin to confess, but are quickly cut off.

“It's kinda too late for that…” Luke says with a chuckle as he tilts his head back against the headrest of his seat and looks out the front window, frustration still evidently seen on his face.

“What do you mean??” you ask, hoping he will elaborate a little more than he has been so far.

“You already distract me. I can't stop thinking about you. And it's obvious. In my game and everything too. Even Jack has noticed and he keeps asking me about you and I don't even know what to say. I can't shut him up. Cuz how am I supposed to tell him how I feel when I can't even tell you? Its actually really fuckin annoying.” he laughs as he explains, still looking ahead out the window instead of at you. 

Luke has always sought to use humour and jokes in difficult situations, especially when it comes to his own feelings. He's clearly frustrated at himself and it hurts you to see him having such a hard time expressing himself.

“So why have you been so distant lately?! I’ve been really worried about you.” you say, suddenly feeling more confident in confronting him as he opens up to you.

“Cuz im scared im gonna fuck things up even more than I already have…” he says honestly as he turns his head to look at you again.

“I knew I should've said something from the moment we slept together the first time. I feel like I fucked up by keeping my mouth shut. It's been ruining my life to not just be honest with you.” he adds with a growl deep in his voice, anger at himself seeping through his words.

As he continues, you can't help but feel entranced by him in his current state, and suddenly you are very aware of how late at night it is becoming. 

“It's my fault...” Luke says, and you desperately try to focus on his words and not his body. 

But you can't help but think about how good his hands would feel on your body and how badly you want him to kiss you right here and now. You didn't care that you were still in the parking lot of a sushi restaurant. You didn't care that things were still so confusing and that this probably wasn't exactly the most ideal time to be feeling this way. You just felt like you needed him so badly.

“I've been treating you like shit lately. Regardless of us sleeping together, that should not change how I treat you. I've been a shitty friend to you, and I'm really really sorry.” he continues, and you are brought out of your trance. 

His words hit you so hard. You both unknowingly made this relationship so complicated and weren't even aware of it. You knew Luke was not perfect, but for some reason you expected him to be able to read your mind, and vice versa. Even after being the one to say you should stay friends, you were silently upset that nothing was happening in the way you wanted.

“Luke, it's ok. Both of us have not been entirely honest with each other lately and it's made everything so… fucked up. We’re just… in a weird spot.” you say, hoping your words make any sense considering you zoned out for half of his apology.

“Can I just say that I want to be able to fix this?” Luke says as he places his hand on your thigh, his fingers mindlessly getting higher and higher as he rubs slowly back and forth. Trying his best to soothe you and unknowingly turning you on even more.

“It isn't just on you to fix.” you say as you place your hand softly over his, stopping his movement on your leg as to not let it overly distract you.

“Yes it is. I let you down. I fucked up by being so fucking…distant. I should've been more clear about what I want…that I want you..” Luke admits, giving into what he has wanted to say from the moment you got into the car together.

His eyes are fixed on yours and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. Hearing him so confidently confess how he is feeling after so long is such a relief. It makes you want to just tell him you love him right here and now.

“I know things are complicated…but, I really don't want to not have you in my life…” Luke adds as tears begin to well in his eyes, catching you both off guard.

“Oh Lukey.” you whisper as you hold his face in your hands, your heart melting at the sight of him. 

Luke places his hands on your wrists, pulling them away from his face as he finally leans into you. 

His lips hit yours with an intensity that you have never felt before from him. His hands move away from yours, and to the base of your neck, gently pulling you closer into him as he deepens the kiss. 

Your eyes are glued shut as you are entranced by his lips finally being connected with yours as his tongue dances around in your mouth. 

Needing to have your hands on him, you reach up to brush his face with your thumbs and then begin gently tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck, causing him to lustfully groan deep into your mouth. Your mind is filled with excitement and intensity as the moment grows in mutual desire.

“I needed you baby.” You say rushedly, disconnecting with him for only a moment.

Luke smiles against your lips as you connect again, and he places his left hand on your hip, massaging his fingers into your side. You lift yourself lightly onto the centre-console, desperate to be as close to him as you can get, and he lowers his hand just below your ass to help support you.

Although being in the close quarters of Luke's car while having such a monumental conversation about your relationship was not quite ideal, you were so thankful for it at this moment.

“I needed you too.” Luke says after coming up for air, and you just stare at him with a dizzy smile, your head reeling with arousal.

He pecks your lips a few times before lowering his head to your collarbone, gently kissing your neck and leaving red marks where he most definitely has before.

Your giggles fill the car as he continues expeditiously exploring your body, wanting to savour every moment of your presence and relishing in the way he is pleasing you.

Luke looks up at you with a smile before his eyebrows furrow and he is distracted by something behind you, causing you to whip your head around to look out your window, immensely alarmed at his expression. 

Luke lightly lets go of you, allowing you to sit properly in your seat and as your eyes focus on the window, the sight of a kind-looking restaurant hostess tapping on the glass outside of your door almost sends you reeling into a panic. 

Luke quickly reassures you with a laugh, placing his hand on your arm and starting the car before beginning to roll your window down for them to speak.

“I am so sorry if I startled you, but our restaurant has closed, which means we can no longer allow you to park here, as free parking ends at midnight.” the hostess explains politely while pointing to the sign posted on the brick wall just in front of Luke's car. 

“Thanks Ma’am. We’re so s-sorry.” Luke pauses to hide his face, clearly hiding that he is about to break into laughter.

“We’ll leave right aw-” Luke laughs out, hardly able to finish his sentence before being sent into a fit of silent laughter.

“We’re so sorry. Have a good night!” you say more seriously, trying to make up for the completely unserious boy beside you.

“Goodnight guys!” the hostess says as she walks away, leaving you completely embarrassed and also scared half to death.

Luke continues dying of laughter and is hunched over the steering wheel as you punch his arm repeatedly to get his attention.

“That was awful! Why are you laughing so hard!” you say unimpressed, but still unable to hold back laughter of your own after seeing him look up at you with tears in his eyes.

“Fuck. I can't get over your face.” Luke says as he begins to come down a little, wiping the tears from his eyes. You just shake your head and begin to buckle your seatbelt, not taking any chances of having to be asked to leave once more.

“Fuck.” he says once more with a sigh, relaxing in his seat and looking over to you with a genuine smile before patting your thigh reassuringly.

You look to Luke expectantly and he stares back at you with a smirk before kissing your lips passionately, catching you off guard. 

Your hands are drawn to his face as he nudges your chin with his, causing you to lean into him even further before he pulls away from you abruptly.

“Can I take you home?” Luke asks with lust in eyes as he brushes his thumb across your cheek, admiring every single feature on your face. His words having a different meaning to both of you than they have previously tonight.

“For real this time?? Because you know we cant sit in this parking lot any longer…” you say jokingly as Luke rolls his eyes at you and begins to put his seatbelt on.

“Yes, for real this time.” He retorts. His right hand eagerly finding yours as he interlocks your fingers with his, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss before finally driving off.

-

-

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

Hey i really loved ur imagine of Jude x drunk gf and i was wondering if you would do a part 2 of Jude taking care of the reader when she’s hungover the morning after 🎐🤍

a/n: Your wish is my command! This is my first request, thank you so much! I hope you like it.

PART 1: LATE NIGHT, SOFT HANDS

EARLY MORNING, SWEET KISSES

• jude bellingham x gf!reader

• warnings: (English is not my first language!)

• summary: Jude Bellingham cares for his hungover girlfriend the next morning, while they share playful banter about her drunken antics, including her insistence that he’s “no fun.” Grateful for his help, she promises not to drink like that again. Obviously he doesn’t believe her.

The first light of dawn crept through the blinds of Jude’s bedroom, casting a faint, golden hue over the soft bedding. He was wide awake, his back resting against the headboard as he quietly scrolled through his phone, glancing occasionally at the girl beside him. His girlfriend, half-buried under the duvet, lay curled up like a cat, one arm lazily draped over his waist.

Jude sighed softly, running a hand through her tousled hair, a mix of amusement and adoration on his face. Last night had been a whirlwind—well, for her, mostly. Now, as the sun slowly rose, he glanced at the cup of warm tea and the aspirin on the nightstand. He knew she’d need it when she woke up. She always did after nights like this.

A soft groan escaped from under the covers. Jude looked down, watching as she shifted slightly, squinting against the sunlight. Her hand reached out blindly, patting his leg beside her before her eyes finally fluttered open.

"Morning," he said quietly, his voice gentle.

She stirred slightly, groaning softly as her hands moved up to rub her eyes. Jude couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. She was always cute in the mornings, but hungover mornings were a whole different story.

His girlfriend winced and groaned again. "Too loud..." she whispered, her voice hoarse, cracking with the fatigue of the night before.

"That bad, huh?" Jude teased, his tone light. He pulled the blanket up a little higher over her, his fingers brushing against her bare legs beneath his hoodie. It looked good on her, hanging off her shoulders like it did, she was practically drowning in his clothes, but there was something endearing about it. She just snuggled deeper into it, grateful for the comfort.

Her brow furrowed as if the light was too much to handle. "Why do I feel like death?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jude chuckled—a little too loudly, much to her dismay—and gestured toward the nightstand where the cup of tea sat. “Tea. No better cure for a hangover, or so my mum says.”

She took the cup gratefully, wrapping both hands around it as if it were her lifeline. "Thank you. You're the best."

“I’m the what?” He teased.

“Juuude…,” she groaned and took another sip.

For a second, she didn't move, just lay there, cocooned in warmth and regret of her yesterday’s decisions. But then, after a moment, she blinked, taking in her surroundings. The bed, the clothes she was wearing—his hoodie, his sweats—and her makeup-free face. It clicked in her mind, and she glanced up at Jude, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

"You did this, didn't you?" she asked, her voice still quiet, but there was gratitude there.

Jude's smile widened as he turned off his phone to look at her. “I did what I could. I honestly forgot how elusive you are when you're tipsy...” He paused, raising an eyebrow at her. “Figured you wouldn’t want to wake up in that tight dress with your makeup all smudged.”

She wanted to kiss him and throw herself into his arms, but her body was half asleep and half aching. “You're an angel,” she mumbled, slowly trying to sit up straighter. She winced at the movement, one hand coming up to cradle her pounding head. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“Well, you did say you were ‘not plastered’ when you got home,” Jude teased again, gesturing for her to take another sip of the tea.

She shot him a half-hearted glare, but the corner of her lips twitched upward. "Shut up. I didn’t think I was that bad."

"You couldn’t even walk straight," he reminded her, raising an eyebrow.

She groaned again, burying her face in her hands. "God, I’m never drinking again."

Jude couldn’t help but laugh, sitting down beside her. "We’ll see about that."

She chuckled softly, trying not to choke, and playfully stuck out her tongue at him.

“I didn’t give you a lot of trouble, right?” Biting her bottom lip softly, she looked at him, hoping not to feel so embarrassed and that her loving—not at all teasing—boyfriend would lie to her a little. She asked it casually, almost like she was sure the answer would be 'no'. Nevertheless Jude had that mischievous glint in his eye, the one that told her she wasn’t getting off that easily.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice teasingly. "Trouble? You? Oh no, nothing too bad. Except for the part where you insisted you wanted to cook."

Her hand shot out from under the pillow, pushing him lightly as she groaned again. "I did not."

"Oh, you did," he continued, his grin widening as he leaned back putting both hands behind his head. "You were all over the place in the kitchen. And let’s not forget that you don’t even know how to cook sober."

She pulled the pillow down just enough to peek at him, her cheeks flushing as she recalled blurry flashes of her actions. “Okay, maybe I tried to cook. That doesn’t sound like trouble though."

"Oh, it was trouble," Jude teased. “I had to practically wrestle a pan out of your hand. You kept telling me you knew what you were doing.”

Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh God."

He nodded solemnly, barely suppressing a laugh. "Swear.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re not funny.”

“Oh, I’m hilarious,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

She shook her head, fighting the smile that was growing. “I’m not even gonna entertain that.”

“Sure you will.” He crossed his arms. “And you told me that last night…”

She pressed her lips, feeling a pang of guilt despite the teasing. He didn’t seem to care, but still, the words lingered in her chest. “Fine. I’m never calling you not funny again, okay? Pinky promise.”

Jude’s grin softened, and he held out his pinky. “Deal,” he said, hooking his pinky with hers.

For a second, they stayed like that, just holding the promise between them. She tried not to laugh at how serious they both looked in that moment. It was ridiculous—making a pinky promise over something so silly—but it felt sweet in its own way.

Jude finally broke the silence, leaning down to kiss the top of her head gently. “You’re something else, you know that?” he whispered, his voice warm and affectionate.

She leaned into him, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as he cupped her cheek, his thumb gently brushing across her skin. Her headache seemed to ease slightly at the comfort of his touch, the warmth of his presence.

The moment settled into a comfortable quiet, and she lay back down, her head resting against his leg now, looking up at him.

"Thanks, though. For taking care of me." Her voice was softer, sincere, as she closed her eyes briefly, still fighting the lingering effects of last night. "I don’t deserve you."

Jude’s smile softened, and he leaned down to press another kiss to the top of her head. "You don’t have to thank me. I’ll always take care of you, even when you try to burn down my kitchen."

She laughed, though it was a quiet, tired laugh, and when she opened her eyes again, he was still looking down at her with that same fond expression. His hand came up, his thumb grazing her cheek, tracing the curve of her face with such tenderness that it made her heart swell.

"How do you do that?" she murmured, her voice sleepy again but full of affection.

"Do what?"

"Make everything feel better, even when I feel like absolute garbage."

He shrugged lightly. "Just part of the job, I guess."

She smiled, reaching up to cover his hand with hers, squeezing it gently. "You’re good at it."

"And you’re worth it.”

[stall1iion]

champions love - four

liked by bsf1, bsf2, maxverstappen1, landonorris and others

y/n.jpg how i pull up to a function after drinking my weight in alcohol 🍷 🥃🍸

view all comments

username2 so we all just here after seeing the pictures huh?

⤷username1 right? Like everyone and their mama here 😭🤣

username7 omg she’s watching both Bridgerton and Breakfast at Tiffany’s, she is so real

username5 knowing how she was going last night she’s probably hungover as hell 😭🤣

⤷username6 shit from the few videos we got it looked like she was an infinity pool of just alcohol

⤷username4 I wanna know how max got her back home

username11 Hey y/n, a good remedy to hangovers is to drink ginger tea and eat chicken noodle soup like you're sick! I find that always works for me

⤷y/n.jpg oh my god, trying this now, thank you so much 🙏🏽

landonorris how are you functioning?

⤷y/n.jpg functioning? What’s that?

⤷charles_leclerc i’m surprised you can stand to look at any device

⤷y/n.jpg alright, not too much now

maxverstappen1 did you take the pills i put on the bedside?

⤷y/n.jpg yeah I did, thanks btw

⤷bsf1 wait…wait- pause- y/n answer the group chat

⤷bsf2 so your over at that man’s house again? 😟🤨

y/n.jpg we were discussing next weeks interview

bsf2 yeah girl…stand up, it looks like we netflix and chilling y/n.jpg oooh 😟 yeah no…never that

⤷username1 TEAM BLACK! WE HAVE MOTHER

⤷username3 does this mean we could potentially get black or green flags for Austria?

⤷bsf1 oh no…you done cuddled up with the man…yeah she’s cooked

y/n.jpg why is everyone saying that?? We’re literally like five feet apart? You can’t even see where we are in the picture 😭

⤷lilymhe I propose (demand) we wear our flags to support our queen on Sunday

y/n.jpg your wish is my command 🫡😋

-> Benedict Bridgeton is y/n's spirit animal

-> y/n's friend's are just teasing (hope they don't come off as bitchy) their just tired of her ass (lovingly)

-> y/n had to explain Targaryen's before watching hotd with max so he wouldn't freak out during the incest bits (90% of the show)

-> y/n got to meet sally and jimmy this trip so expect a lot of cat pictures now!

Author's note!

Hey guys! A bit of a short chapter but I do plan on having the next chapter as it will include our girl's debut on the grid and all the interviews, pictures, and ofc written parts! So bear with me until next Sunday! Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @boiohboii @ale-522 @ietss @theseerbetweenus @jaxx-7 @sainzluvrr @the-untamed-soul @ashy-kit @hc-dutch @nichmeddar @delululeclerc @sweate-r-weathe-r @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @luvsforme @samantha-chicago

༉‧₊˚  CHAMPIONS LOVE ༉‧₊˚

⤷ Following the messy breakup between Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet, Max’s manager comes up with a solution to divert the attention – a fake relationship. His new girlfriend? Two time olympic gold medalist figure skater, y/n for the USA team. Easy? Well...

[dunnerlars]

always attract - matthew tkachuk

pairing: matthew tkachuk x fem!reader summary: matthew mistakenly tells your brother that you're his date to his wedding. word count: 5.7k warnings: none? i don't think a/n: this is my fic for @sc0tters for the #the summer fic exchange 2k24 hosted by the wonderful @wyattjohnston! i haven't written in forever so this was fun to dive into- and it's not beta'd because i'm terrified to ask someone to look it over so all mistakes are my own 😅

—

Matthew 🐀: I know its 5am for you but i think fucked up

Matthew 🐀: Will you be my date to your brothers wedding

The text has you blinking rapidly as you check the time, your phone bright in the dark of the room. Why the fuck is he up right now? Squinting, you see it’s just past 5am and groan, falling back into bed and wondering what the fuck Matthew’s even talking about. It takes a second for you to put everything together, mind failing to keep up with the words date, wedding, and brother.

Me: Sorry what??? What are you talking about

Matthew 🐀: we’re at connor’s bach party and leon asked if i had a date yet and i might’ve told connor you were going to be my date

Me: It’s 5AM 

Matthew 🐀: i know we’re heading back to the hotel now but Please b my date

Me: What did connor say?

You huff and roll over, sitting up to turn the light on your nightstand on. Matthew hadn’t responded back yet and you quick to type:

Me: Is he pissed??

Matthew 🐀: its hard to tell w him you know? So what do you say? Date? To the wedding? pleaseeeeeeee

Suddenly a knot forms in your stomach at the thought and despite it not being your fault you feel guilty for Connor thinking you were hiding something from him. Matthew is your friend….He wouldn’t be the worst date. Might as well get something out of it.

Me: What’s in it for me?

Matthew 🐀: literally whatever

Having a favor from Matthew could come in handy at some point, you think. And it could be worth all of this fucking nonsense he’s putting you through at now 5:22am. 

Me: Fine, but you owe me a no-barred favor. I can ask for whatever, whenever I want no matter what.

You pause-

Me: How did this even happen?

Matthew 🐀: i’ll explain tomorrow and we can figure out details!!! Thnks babe 😘

Rolling your eyes, you set your phone back down on the nightstand and sigh. It’s almost too much to think about how quickly Connor and Matthew had become close over the last couple of weeks. You’d thought for sure there would be some residual hate from the Panthers Cup win but then Matthew had invited Connor out to his day with the Cup and it was love at first bro hug or whatever excuse they used. And despite the invites going out months ago, Connor had finagled an invite for Matthew and now here you were.

Ever since your move to southern Florida last year, your growing friendship with Matthew had always bugged Connor so it was funny to you now, seeing the tables turned. 

The vibration of your phone breaks you from your thoughts and you prepare yourself for another text from Matthew only to be surprised to see it’s a text from your brother.

Connor 👼🏻: So Tkachuk huh?

Deciding it was far too early to deal with this anymore, you turn the phone over and will yourself back to sleep.

—

It’s the next day when Matthew requests to FaceTime you, your phone ringing with a video call as you step outside to your backyard and get settled on a patio chair.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Matthew greets, his grin the most endearingly annoying thing about him.

“You don’t have to use lines on me, Matthew. I’ve already said yes,” you remind him, eyebrows raised as you try your best to glare at him. You take stock of his surroundings and frown. “Are you back in St. Louis already?”

“Yeah, I had a charity thing scheduled with my dad for tonight so I flew back late yesterday.”

“Oh.. Hope you’re not too hungover.” 

He shrugs and regroups, sliding his sunglasses up into his curls. “I’m alright. So-,” he starts but you cut him off.

“I need you to explain to me what happened last night before we figure out everything else.” It’s something you’ve tried to piece together and you still haven’t texted Connor back, afraid you might break Matthew’s cover.

“Alright, that’s fair,” he nods, “We were walking back from a bar and Leon asked if I had a date to the wedding, since it was short notice that I was going. And the way he asked- it just really bugged me. Like his tone? I dunno. It just rubbed me wrong. And the guys were making shitty comments. Whatever.”

You know the tone Matthew’s referring to, grateful you’ve never been on the receiving end. Leon was a hard one to crack and it’d taken you at least a year to wear him down. Nodding at him to continue, he shifts his eyes and you can tell he’s embarrassed. 

“So obviously I told them I had a date and they stopped and it was fine- until your brother pulled me back from the group and asked who I was bringing, so he could tell Lauren, and I panicked and said you,” he mumbles the next part, your ears straining to pick up the words, “And I might've mentioned we’ve been dating.”

You pause, wondering if Matthew just said what you think he did and yeah- he did. He at least has the nerve to look sheepish, apologetic. “Dating? Are you… What? Matthew!”

“Look, I was on the spot okay! And drunk! And it’s not like it’s out of the question. You’re one of my best friends. My mom loves you, I swear you talk to my sister more than I do. I can go on,” he shoots you a pleading look.

“Well when you put it that way, sure. I guess.”

“You guess? You know I’m right.”

Sighing, you nod. “Fine. Whatever. Did you give him any details? I can’t imagine Connor didn’t have a million questions, I tell him everything.”

“What do you mean everything?”

“Matthew, that’s not the point. Did he question you at all?” 

“No. Just patted me on the shoulder and we caught up with everyone else.”

“Huh.”

That’s…. Weird. And out of character for your brother, who’s nosy as fuck when it comes to your personal life. Maybe he already thinks it’s all a lie. Or is just actually super pissed, which isn’t any better. Would this even be worth it? How often would a favor from Mattew come in handy? Okay, actually pretty handy. He’s got money, connections. Could be good to have for things you don’t wanna ask Connor for… Ugh.

Glancing up, you catch Matthew waiting for you to say something and his curls catch the back light of the St. Louis sun from behind him, casting an almost halo glow around his head. His eyes are bright, sunglasses still tucked up on the top of his head. Two front teeth catching his bottom lip and biting and God, he’s pretty. 

Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea. What could go wrong? 

“Alright, let’s figure this out…”

—

It’s hours later when you finally work up the nerve to call Connor, lying in bed after a long day. Since he hadn’t questioned Matthew for details, it was easy enough to make up a backstory for you and Matthew: it’s only been a couple of months, things aren’t serious but they’re fun and easy and you both like each other enough that it’s exclusive. Which was all real except that when you hung out, it just wasn’t a date. Because you weren’t dating. Nope.

The call finally connects, sure you were almost going to get his voicemail, and Connor greets you with, “Thanks for letting me know you’re alive.”

It’s easy to tell by the tone of his voice, short, quick and void of any emotion, that he’s disappointed because it’s the voice you know he uses when he loses a game he felt they should’ve won.

“You’re mad.”

“And why am I mad?”

“Because-”

“Because I found out you’ve been secretly dating Tkachuk behind my back, from him? Why did I have to find out from him and not you, my own sister? Was this going on throughout our entire Cup series? Or has it been longer?”

Fuck.

“Matthew lying to me is- It’s whatever. You’re my sister. Why didn’t you tell me? What about telling me made you straight up lie when I’ve asked you about your trips up to wherever the fuck the Panthers play? Or when he’s down there with you?”

Fort Lauderdale your mind supplies but you know it won’t do any good to say so.

“You always made it seem like it was just buddies when you told me you were meeting with him for lunch or whatever, someone that reminded you of home, but I guess that’s what made it so easy, huh?” The heat in Connor’s voice has petered out, like he’s figuring it all out and he sighs. “Fuck. I’m sorry. This is probably why you didn’t want to say anything to me.”

“It really was just friends, Con. I promise,” you tell him. “Then… I dunno. Things just got more real. I didn’t want to see anyone else and he didn’t either. It’s only been a couple of months, I swear.”

“So, through the series, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Connor lets out a long breath, like he’s deciding his next words carefully. “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me. I get it. It wasn’t the best reaction.”

“No shit,” you laugh.

“But you’re coming to the wedding together?” You hear someone shout in the background and grin when you recognize Lauren’s voice. “Lauren wants to know if she should switch your escort down the aisle to Chucky.”

“I mean,” you pause, thinking. It would be nice to know who was walking down with you, one of Lauren’s second cousins or something was supposed to be your escort but having Matthew on your arm would be nice. “Yeah, sure. As long as it doesn’t fuck anything up on her end.”

Connor grunts, “As if Lauren would let anything fuck that day up. It’s fine. Let Chucky know for us, yeah? She’s making the calls already.”

“Alright. Thanks, Con. And tell Lauren thank you too.”

“Will do. Love ya, kiddo. Sorry I freaked out.”

You roll your eyes. Brothers. 

“Love you too. I’ll text you once I talk to him.”

Lauren and Connor both shouted their goodbyes as you hung up.

Me: So you’re gonna be my escort down the aisle next week in the wedding 🙂

Matthew 🐀: Fuck you

Me: You wish

Matthew 🐀: well yeah

Of course he didn’t mean it like that- Matthew always down for a joke, and you calm your racing heart, gulping down some water.

So now you not only have a fake boyfriend but also said (fake) boyfriend was going to walk you down the aisle at your brother’s wedding. In a week. Great.

—

You fly into St. Louis. The plan was to meet up with Matthew on the Saturday before the wedding and then you’d fly up to Toronto and drive up to Muskoka together on Wednesday. Trying to keep up appearances, Matthew had said. Thankfully the flight from Miami to Missouri wasn’t too terrible, even if the lady that was sat next to you had a perfume on that made you nauseous. 

Matthew had texted you that he was idling on the curb, waiting, and once you had your bags, you headed outside into the muggy heat. The loud honk of a horn coming from a giant black SUV startles you and Matthew rolls down the window with a laugh, “Come on, they’re gonna make me move again.”

It was tempting to make him squirm but you caught the eye of one of the traffic guards and scurry forward, dumping your bags into the backseat before jumping into the passenger’s side. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” he grins, turning on his blinker before merging onto the road. “Seatbelt please.”

The quietness of the truck surprises you as you buckle your seatbelt, having expected some kind of rap music or sports podcast to be playing through the speakers. Or at least that’s what he normally was listening to when you’d meet up in Miami, and he’d pick you up at your apartment. The silence was comfortable though, the quiet hum of the AC and the tapping of Matthew’s fingers against the steering wheel filling the cab. His posture was relaxed, slouched in the driver’s seat.

Matthew swats lightly at your thigh, pulling your attention away from the window, “You should let Connor know you’re here.”

Digging through your bag, you search for your phone and fire off a quick text to the group chat with your brother and parents that you’d made it safely to St. Louis and were with Matthew, heading back to his house.

“So, how was the flight?”

Well it was fine in the sense that nothing went wrong and there weren’t any screaming babies and you managed to fall asleep since you’d been up at the ass crack of dawn to make sure you got to the airport in time but- Well. Your dreams had been filled with flashes of Matthew’s smile and his laugh and how he always managed to make you feel better after a bad day at work and he’d called just to say he was bored and was wondering what you were doing and, and and-. 

Where was this even coming from?

You obviously couldn’t say all of that so you shrug, “It was okay. The lady next to me must’ve bathed in perfume because I almost gagged but I pulled a mask on and managed to fall asleep against the window.”

Matthew whistles in sympathy, “God that’s always the worst.”

Nodding, you chew on your bottom lip and turn to face him in your seat and get a good look at him. “You look nice.”

And he did. There was something different about him and you weren’t sure if it was the glowing tan that covered his neck and arms, the blonde that was starting to weave its way into the curls that sat neatly on his head, or just the ease at which he was holding himself but he looked different. Maybe part of it was the fact that the last time you’d seen Matthew in person was right after the Panthers victory and he’d been dog tired and worn out, bushy beard and clothes hanging off his frame. This Matthew was refreshed and had a Stanley Cup under his belt, carefree and like nothing could bring him down. 

Matthew glances at you quickly, a sly smile overtaking his face. “Yeah? Well, gotta look good for my girlfriend ya know? Figured I’d shower, at the very least.”

Wait.

“Your parents don’t think we’re dating, right?”

Matthew’s quick to shake his head with a honking laugh, “Nah, I explained to them what happened. My mom’s excited to see you again though. And Taryn.”

“Not your dad?”

Pulling off the highway, he chuckles and shrugs. “Big Walt’s not home. He’s on some golf trip for the week.”

It’s hard not to let your relief show. Keith wasn’t your favorite person and taking him out of the equation of this short trip was a small victory you were willing to celebrate. To yourself.

“Cool cool cool.”

“It’s okay that you don’t like him,” Matthew assures you as he pulls up to what you can only assume is his parents home. It wasn’t familiar to you in the way Matthew’s St. Louis home was becoming from all of the play-by-play videos he’s sent during his off time, describing the day he’s had while grabbing his mail, or going for a walk around the neighborhood while telling you about the latest update on Brady’s incoming baby or what he was going to have for dinner.

“I don’t like how he treats you,” you remind him, voice quiet.

It was no secret to Matthew how you felt about his father. You couldn’t even begin to count how many times you’d heard Keith put him down through solo interviews or in passing comments from Matthew or even Tayrn, when she’d call to tell you about another argument the two of them had that she’d overheard.

Matthew nods, grimacing. “Well, we don’t have to deal with him while we’re here. Come on, let’s head in before my mom wonders why we’re sitting out here instead.”

The rest of the day was uneventful. You and Taryn hang out in the backyard with White Claws while she tells you horror stories from her last semester at college and Matthew flits in and out, helping his mom with dinner while also trying to get the juicy gossip. It was comfortable, even if the St. Louis air was sticky with humidity and dinner went by quickly and soon enough, you were back in Matthew’s car heading to his place.

“Well this is nice. Not as nice as the one in Florida but- nice,” you whistle, taking in the coziness of Matthew’s home. There was an overstuffed couch in the center of the living room, a coffee table littered with sports magazines, and further back you could see the kitchen with deep brown cabinets and hardwood floors to match. “Very cozy.”

“Yeah, my mom took care of most of it during the season. I just sent a bunch of pictures of things for her to copy,” Matthew shrugs, nodding up the stairs. “Uh, guest rooms are up there. You tired?”

“Really fucking tired.”

“Come on then, up we go.”

Matthew led the way up the stairs, carrying your suitcase. The temptation to smack his ass was a hard one to quell but you just barely managed when you hit the landing. 

“So,” he points to the left. “That room I use as an office but it’s got an en suite. Bed’s kinda small though.” Pointing to the right, he glances at you before speaking. “That one’s closest to my room. Bigger bed. No bathroom though.”

“Well obviously I’m taking the bigger bed.” You nudge his arm with yours, taking the suitcase and heading towards the room. “So, plans for tomorrow: Taryn said something about getting lunch? I don’t know if you’re invited. Also you’ve gotta take me to that bakery here you’ve been talking about for months so I can judge the almond croissant you’ve deemed better than the ones from True Loaf. Which are the best. Obviously.”

As you dig through your suitcase in search of pajamas, you glance up to see Matthew leaning against the doorway with a weird smile on his face as he looks at you. “You good?”

“Yeah, just-,” he pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “Glad to have you here. It’s been a while.”

“Happy to be here. Boyfriend.” You shoot him a wide grin, hoping it covers up the clear nervousness you’re feeling now that you’re settling in. Sleeping in his house.

Matthew snorts, shaking his head. “See you in the morning.”

—

The rest of your time in St. Louis was kind of great, all things considered. Matthew was an attentive host and Taryn and Chantal were eager to fill your time- from gossiping about the league, to things you needed to check out the next time you were in town. And Chantal had made you promise that you would- come back, that is, on your last night in St. Louis with the four of you crowded around the table in the backyard of Matthew’s house, sharing a bottle of wine and embarrassing stories.

You’d had to double, and triple check, with Matthew to make sure his mom or sister didn’t think the two of you were actually dating, especially when promises were being made to come back.

He’d just shrugged and said, “They just like you. I like you. Jeez, do people not tell you they like you?”

You were kind of bummed to be leaving as you packed your bag the morning of the flight up to Toronto, Matthew’s obnoxious singing ringing loudly throughout the house. After combing through the room a third time, you deemed it free and clear of your belongings and headed down the stairs, rolling your suitcase next to Matthew’s and chuckled at the sight before you as you turned towards the kitchen.

Singing horribly out of tune with Dancing Queen blasting on his phone’s speaker, was Matthew dancing like an idiot around the island in the center of his kitchen, eyes closed and belting the lyrics.

“Matthew.”

The live concert comes to an end, Matthew scrambling to pause the music. “Sorry,” he replies, ears tinged red in embarrassment. 

“Hey no complaints from me, but Taryn’s gonna be here in a minute,” you remind him, the fond smile on your face giving away far too much.

Matthew pockets his phone, nodding. He holds your gaze for a second before asking, “Come here?”

As soon as you’re a couple of steps away, Matthew pulls you into his chest and you go with a surprised oof.

“Thank you. For doing this.”

You turn your head into his chest, ear pressed against where his heart was and find comfort in the timed beating while you nod. “You’re welcome,” you mumble, turning your chin up and glancing at him.

Your gazes lock, his blue eyes searching yours. For what, you’re unsure but he seems to find the answers he’s looking for a short minute later, because he gives you another squeeze and steps back, letting out a breath. 

“I’ll grab the bags if you can shut the lights off?”

You’re already on it as Matthew walks away, flipping the switch in the kitchen and checking the backdoor to make sure it’s locked. The living room lights are next, and you meet him at the front door, catching Taryn’s car parked on the curb waiting. 

The drive to the airport is short, the early morning hours more forgiving with traffic and after giving Taryn a quick hug and a promise to text her when you both landed, you stepped away to give her and Matthew some privacy while dropping your bags at the kiosk outside. 

“Ready?” He asks, as you both wave goodbye to Taryn as she pulls away from the curb. 

“Let’s do this.”

The flight is smooth for how short it is, 2 hours passing by quickly. Arriving in Toronto is a nightmare, as usual, and Matthew spends over 30 minutes at the rental car desk trying to figure out where your reservation went. Eventually it gets sorted out and you’re on the road, tucked into the passenger seat of a sports car that you didn’t ask for. 

“If I fall asleep, don’t get mad at me please,” you yawn, pulling your feet up under you to get comfortable and leaning on the center console.

“Want me to turn the radio down?” Matthew doesn’t wait for your answer, his hand going for the volume knob but you stop him, your fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“No, it’s good. I know it helps keep you awake.” Pulling your hand away from his slowly you tuck it underneath your head and nudge your forehead against his arm. “Thank you for driving, by the way.”

“Happy to, honestly. Driving helps me clear my head,” he tells you, glancing down and shooting you a grin.

You’re tempted to ask what’s going on with him- he’s been acting a little out of character since this morning but sense that he’s not ready to talk about it, so you just hum in acknowledgement and turn into your arms, willing for sleep to find you.

Thankfully you manage to fall asleep on the ride up, a small 2 hour nap doing the trick because you wake up feeling rested.

The cottages were set on the lake in Muskoka where everyone would be staying for the wedding and you and Matthew were set to share one with your parents with Connor and Lauren next door in the one they own and spend his off season in. 

Your mom and dad are sat on the front porch in a set of rocking chairs as Matthew pulls up and  you’re quick to jump out of the car once it stops, calling out to them as they wave to you in greeting while he grabs the bags out of the trunk, “Long time, no see!”

Once hellos and introductions are done, with your dad and Matthew bonding what feels like instantly and your mom hugs you so hard you almost can’t breathe, the four of you make the small trek over to Connor and Lauren’s for dinner after dropping your bags off.

Dinner is comfortable, Matthew sat on your right with his arm draped across the back of your chair the whole time. Connor doesn’t give you two any weird looks and you count it as a win as you settle down for the night, avoiding talking about the fact that there’s only one bed in the room while you both brush your teeth. 

“I forget how involved these things are,” Matthew says, leaning against the counter watching while you finish washing your face.

“Weddings? Yeah, I mean. I think this is a little different, though,” you laugh, pat drying your face. “Lauren’s dialed everything up to a thousand for it.”

Matthew nods, thinking about it. “I’ve noticed,” he finally answers with, nudging you out of the bathroom. 

“And there was one bed,” you dramatically announce, sweeping your arms around the room and Matthew honest to god giggles which causes you to start giggling, both of you falling into a heap on the bed, trying to catch your breath.

Clearing his throat, Matthew grunts, “We’re adults, we can share a bed. Right?” His head turns towards yours and you swallow, realizing how close the two of you are. 

If you scooted an inch closer, you’d be able to tilt your head up and press your lips to his and- No.

“Right,” you finally manage to mumble out.

The air is stilted while you both turn down the bed, shuffling under the covers once the light is out and you make sure to stay tucked to your side of the bed, legs curled under you and knees almost hanging off the bed.

This was going to be a long weekend.

—

From morning yoga to late night barbecues, swimming and then rehearsals, you were exhausted. Not to mention keeping up appearances with Matthew: hand holding, arms wrapped around waists, and too many forehead kisses to count were wearing on you. It was starting to feel real and thinking about what was to come when the weekend was over and you’d go your separate ways was overwhelming.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, which was hard enough, was that the last week or so with Matthew had been nothing short of amazing. You didn’t date, really ever. It was hard enough being Connor McDavid’s sister and trying to figure out if someone actually wanted to be with you vs. wanting to know your brother and the perks it comes with but, with Matthew that didn’t exist. You didn’t have to question why he wanted to be around, and while yes, you know each other because of Connor, you were friends in your own right.

The morning of the wedding came quickly, finally managing to get a solid amount of sleep and it was easy to figure out why when you accounted for the fact Matthew’s chest was beneath your cheek when you woke up. So far you’d both managed to keep separate throughout the night, at least as far as you could tell since he was up before you most mornings so this was surprising. 

Matthew shifts beneath you and you peer up as he blinks his eyes open, gaze catching yours. “Sorry,” you mumble, about to roll away when he catches you by the waist to hold you tight to him.

He groans deep in his chest as he stretches out and settles back against the pillows, content with a smile. “Mmm, don’t apologize. This is nice,” he tells you, thumb rubbing against the bare skin of your arm.

You hum in agreement before catching the time on the alarm clock opposite of you and sigh. “It is, but I’ve gotta get up. Bridesmaids duties call and if I’m late, Lauren will murder me and I’ve been having a nice time so I’d like to not ruin that.”

“I have too,” Matthew agrees, “I was nervous at first but it’s been kind of- fun? And having you around hasn’t been too terrible either.”

You pinch him in the side at that and he squawks, shuffling away. “Alright, alright. Damn,” he laughs, jumping out of bed. “I ruined the mood, I get it.”

A knock sounds on the door, your mother’s voice ringing out on the other side. “Sweetie, Lauren just called to make sure you’re awake. We’ve gotta head over soon.”

“I’ll be down in five,” you call back, throwing the covers off and shooting Matthew a glare. 

His hands come up in surrender and you laugh, closing the bathroom door behind you.

You don’t have to do much before leaving, since the ladies are getting ready over at Connor and Lauren’s cottage and the guys are coming here. Washing up and grabbing your bag, you blow a sarcastic kiss to Matthew on your way out and he rolls his eyes and catches it before you leave and your mother just laughs, teasing you for how cute the both of you are. 

The wedding is beautiful, as expected. The guest list is full of people who you’ve known most of your life, who have supported Connor throughout his career, and you’re immensely proud of the person he’s become.

You stand at the altar among Lauren’s best friends and watch your brother get married, near tears, seeing how happy he is. How happy they both are- you’re gaining a sister in her and it’s all kinds of crazy magical, how everything’s come together and that includes having Matthew as your date because he’s been kind of the best. 

Once dinner is done, the cake is cut and the happy couple has come through and been announced and their first dance out of the way, the dance floor opens up and everyone lets loose. The DJ is fun and plays throwback after throwback and Matthew keeps close to you, offering to refill your drink or ask if you need a break when slow songs come on. Eventually you do, toeing off your shoes and hiding them under your chair before slumping into the table. 

“I am pooped,” you whine, blowing your hair out of your face and groaning into your arms. 

“It’s a little early to be tapping out, babe,” Matthew chuckles, finishing off his beer. 

“God, I know. Lauren will kill me if I leave early,” you glance around the dance floor for her and see Celeste behind her, arms wrapped around each other's necks and you smile. “Are you having fun? I’m not keeping you from anything? I know the guys are around here somewhere.”

Matthew’s quick to shake his head, nudging his knee with yours. “Nope, nowhere else I wanna be.” He licks his lips and you track the movement, mesmerized. “And yeah, lots of fun. You’re not too bad of a date.”

You snort, “Thanks. Really appreciate that.”

A few songs later and a discussion of the rest of your summer plans gone, you both join the dance floor again when a slow song hits. Matthew’s hands slide low on your waist and your hands clasp behind his neck, swaying to the beat. The music is soft and you can hear the nighttime noises from the woods behind you, the lapping of the lake against the dock that’s not too far away. It’s calming and Matthew pulls you a little closer, your head just close enough to rest against his chest.

“Have you thought about the favor you want when this is all done?” He wonders, keeping his voice low so only you can hear.

Honestly you’d forgotten all about the deal you’d made- it wasn’t exactly a hardship to play fake girlfriend to Matthew because it wasn’t all that different to how you normally interacted with him. But now that you’re thinking about it, maybe there was something you wanted. More time.

You tell him honestly, “Yeah. Later though,” and tuck your face back into his chest and will for the moment to never end.

—

It does come to an end. The wedding dies down a couple of hours later, Connor and Lauren waving everyone off and thanking the guests for coming. You and Matthew are both sober enough to make the small trek back to the cottage next door and he holds your hand the entire way back, using the excuse of not wanting to lose you in the dark. It’s tempting to call him on it but you don’t want him to let go either.

Your parents are already settled in bed when you both tiptoe up the stairs and you sigh in relief when you’re finally back in the bedroom, closing the door and immediately chucking your heels across the room.

Settling in for the last night, you turn over and feel brave, scooting closer to Matthew in the dark. 

“I don’t think I wanna fly back to Miami tomorrow,” you whisper, heart hammering. “I’ve still got the next week off and I was going to use it to catch up on some things around my apartment but I just. Don’t want to. You’re going back to St. Louis right?”

Matthew turns on his side to face you and you feel warmth spreading through your chest at the way he’s taking you in- like you’re something special, something to be taken care of. 

“Yeah, I was planning on it,” he tells you. “What are you thinking?”

“That I’m ready to cash in my favor.”

“Alright, hit me. What’ve you got?”

The look Matthew’s giving you is encouraging and you suddenly feel brave and steadily say, “Go somewhere with me.”

Matthew reaches across the short distance and his hand catches yours, twining your fingers together and asks, “Where are we going?”

[cozage]

Coza! congrats on 2K followers. I like your smuts and i don't know what. idea I want.CouldI request for the Option 1? Reaction of Luffy + ace + Zoro + sabo + taking care of you when your sick.

I am actually very sick today so this one was nice to think about :) 

Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Ace, Zoro, Sabo CW: I didn’t proofread this forgive me for errors   Total word count: 860

In Sickness and Health

Luffy

He is worried sick about you. He spends the whole morning just trying to get you to laugh. 

He tells jokes, makes funny faces, and plays pranks on Zoro. Anything he can think of to get you smiling and laughing.

Sometimes he succeeds in getting you to laugh, but it quickly turns into a coughing fit, so he eventually gives up on the laughing endeavor. 

Instead, he climbs into bed with you and pulls you flush against his body. He holds you and whispers sweet nothings into your ears to lull you to sleep. 

He wipes the sweat off your brow and rubs your face with a cool rag when you get hot. Even when you're asleep, he still does it. 

When it’s time to eat, he doesn’t ask for your food. It’s probably one of the first times in his life that he hopes there are no leftovers. He knows you need the food to get strong. 

And when you finally get out of bed, he bounces with joy, excited to resume his normal routine with you again. 

Ace

Ace doesn’t know what to do when he wakes up and you’re the warm one in the bed. So he runs to get Marco. 

“They're fine,” Marco says. “It’s just a fever. It will pass.”

“Can’t you just heal them?!” Ace whispered, looking at you nervously. 

“With little things like this it does more harm than good. Let their body fight it. If it’s still bad in 24 hours, come back to me.”

Ace is so worried he doesn’t eat. He doesn’t leave your side. He had tried to cuddle up to you, but you had kicked him away. 

Now he sits on the floor beside the bed, his hand outstretched and intertwined with yours as you sleep. 

He only wakes you to drink water and to eat. Even though it’s the last thing you want, he makes you consume something to keep your energy up. 

After a few hours, he still hasn’t moved from his spot, and you finally allow him to rejoin you in bed. The heat is still miserable, but at least he’s a comfy pillow. 

The next night your fever finally breaks. And though you’re still miserable, at least he knows you’re going to be okay. 

Zoro

Zoro was surprised that you weren’t out on the deck by mid morning. You hadn’t had a particularly late night, so it strikes him as strange. 

As he opens the door to your room, you groan and roll away from the light. 

He barks out a laugh. “That hungover? I didn’t even see you drink!”

“Migraine,” you moan, pressing your hands to your temple as you speak. 

“Oh.” Zoro's voice instantly drops several octaves. “What can I do?”

“Just come lay here with me.” You stretch out an arm to him, beckoning him into bed. 

He has no option but to join you, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you and flexing against you. You feel safe in his arms, and slip into unconsciousness immediately. 

When you finally wake up, the sharp stabbing has left, but Zoro still has you firmly in his arms. 

“Are you hungry? Do you-“

“Shower,” you cut him off with your own words. “I’d really like a shower.”

So he leads you to the bath house and he gingerly washes your hair and your body as you keep your eyes closed, trying to minimize the effects of your migraine. 

When you finish in the shower, he silently takes you back to your room and the two of you lay around for the rest of the day, quietly talking or sleeping or just enjoying each other's company. 

Sabo

“Soup?” He whispered, cracking the door open just a tad as he held a bowl.

“How’d you know?” You groaned, throwing a pillow over your head. 

He laughed, deciding not to tell you how it was almost noon. He knew you weren’t always an early riser, but you were only in bed at this time if you were sick. 

“I called out, so we can-“

“Sabo!” You cried. “You shouldn’t have called out!”

“But you’re sick.” He held out a book. “I got you a new book and everything.”

You hummed in delight, taking the book from him and setting it down on the nightstand. 

“Do you want to be alone, or can I join you?”

You really didn’t want another body in the bed with you while you were feeling so gross. But you also didn’t want to be alone. 

“Can you just stay in the room?” You asked. 

“Let me grab some work, I’ll be right back.”

He worked quietly at his desk in your room, only taking breaks to fetch you water or food or anything else you would ask for.

And you fell asleep to the quiet scratching of his pen, sleeping well in the fact that he would never leave you alone when you needed him. 

[miniwheat77]

Seductive. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, smut, p in v sex, rough sex, age gap, (let me know if I missed any)

(Summary): Reader takes some advice from a friend on base and seduces her Captain.

(This has been in my drafts for forever, I hope you like it.)

Your eyes narrow as you look upon her, very clear fake laugh leaving her lips as she places her hand on his shoulder. He doesn't notice, but you do. You can see the look in his eyes as she does, what she's doing. It's working. She walks away from him and makes her way over to you. You're sitting at a table in the mess hall, sandwich in hand.

“What are you doing?” You ask your only friend on the base you worked on. Her name was Katy, the only tolerable female on base. She might've been a little bit of a barracks bunny but you usually ignored that. She was nice and funny and you got along with her quite well.

“What?” She says. “You’re totally trying to seduce him.” You laugh. After witnessing her chatting up your commander. “Yeah? So?” Your eyes widen. “What the hell. You whore.” She shoves you. “Oh come on, don’t be such a prude.” She rolls her eyes. “Katy. You know you can’t have relations on base.” You chuckle. “What they don’t know won’t hurt em.” She smirks. “You’re not interested in anyone at all?” She asks. “No.” You say, confused. “Lame. I was going to tell you how to get what you want.” She smirks. You roll your eyes. “I’ll let you know if I ever need your expertise, but you know I’m leaving soon.” She scoffs. “I know. It’s bullshit, you’re supposed to stay here with me.” She pouts. “It’s only for 6 months and I’ll be back.” You chuckle.

You’d been recruited for task force 141, and you were leaving in a couple of weeks. She was very upset that you were leaving but you were excited for something new. After finishing up lunch, the both of you returned to your posts. You weren't sure how you got recommended to be in task force 141, you hadn't even met anyone apart of it besides the few time's you talked to Laswell, but it wasn't her task force. It was different and you weren't sure if you were ready for it.

The two weeks leading up to the day you were leaving, were crazy. Almost every single day Katy convinced you to go out, you spent almost 2 full weeks hungover at work. It was awful, but it was some of the most fun you’d ever had. The time seemed to drag on, you were nervous and excited at the same time for something different. You were waiting on a bench patiently for your helicopter to arrive, the one that'd be taking you away. Katy was sitting next to you. Talking to you before you'd inevitably leave. She was worried but she'd never show it. She was good at hiding her emotions. She had been through a lot before she entered the military, so she was good at concealment. When the helicopter arrived, she gave you a hug and you finished your goodbye's to the other few acquaintances you had on base. They were sad to see you go, and they were worried as well. 141 went on some crazy missions and they were worried about you. "Don't get dead." Katy smiles, you could see the hurt in her eyes.

She was upset when you left but she’d be okay. She had guys on base to keep her company while you were gone anyways.

The ride to the base task force 141 was on took quite a few hours. They were off in the middle of nowhere in Iran. Working toward eliminating Hassan Zyani. The Iranian terrorist.

When you arrived on base, it was pretty early in the morning. "Hi." A man smiles. He's attractive, very attractive. You smile and take his outstretched hand. Shaking it. "I'm Captain John Price. It's nice to finally meet you." He smiles. His accent takes you a little off guard, forgetting that this base is going to have Military from all over. "Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N." You smile. He nods his head. "I've heard a lot about you. A lot about how sharp you are for your age." He smiles. "Really? I didn't know that people talked about me." You chuckle. "Oh they do. It's nice having you here Y/N, I'll show you around.” He spins around on his heels and you know you'll fit in just fine here.

Your first few weeks with 141 were busy. Nonstop missions, always up to something. If you weren’t out on a mission, you were inside of an office helping people out with research and all kinds of paperwork. You spent a lot of time with your Captain and Laswell. They enjoyed your company and your expertise with technology. Your relationship with each of the members of 141, and those in alliance with 141 were close knit. You got along so well with everyone right away and they took you in as one of their own. Joking and playing with Soap, but knowing he’d ring someone’s neck for you. Slight gestures that always made Ghost smile under his mask. Sharing sweets with him, laughing when he didn’t like it and would spit it out. Catching him smoking with his mask slightly lifted. Him threatening to kill you if you tell anyone. His eyes would darken and he’d glare if someone said something slightly aggressive to you. Playing small pranks on everyone with Gaz, he was like your evil twin. But the couple times Price got stern with you he was always there to help the situation. Usually a “take it easy cap, she’s new.”

But you didn’t really mind when he got stern with you. If you needed correction, you’d take the advice.

The only thing that really started to bother you, was the growing feelings you felt for your Captain. You didn’t figure he’d go after you, significant age gap, the job you both worked in. It just seemed impossible. You wondered if he was married but ended up asking if he had any kids and he said no, he’d never even been married. Your heart jumped. Literally wanted to beat out of your chest in excitement. He was single. Your only concern now was the significant age gap. If he didn’t mind, you definitely didn’t mind.

You spent many nights up late, daydreaming. You thought about the way he smelled, the way he has to taste on your tongue. The way his facial hair would scratch at the skin between your legs. You were groggy most days but managed to hide it. Your Captain always kept everything professional with you. He never gave you a reason to have such a growing crush on him despite his protectiveness. He was a little rough around the edges, raised his voice sometimes, very stern. You day dreamt about that too, how rough he could be. His calloused hands moving with the curves of your body. Sometimes you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face, get him out of your head. But not even an ice bath would take away the growing heat you felt between your legs when you thought about him. You suffered like this for longer than you liked to admit. Longing stares at him during meetings. Constant concern about him on missions. It was getting a little dangerous how you felt about him.

You sat on the edge of your bed. It was pretty late at night. You were running out of options. You had one left, and you were growing desperate. With a sigh, you pull your phone out. Quickly dialing her number.

“Hey Katy.” You smile as she answered. “Y/N! Hi! How is everything?” She asks. “Everything is great, but I need advice.” You laugh. “Oh? With what?”

You take a deep breath, standing up and stepping further into your room to ensure nobody would hear you. “Do you remember when you said to ask you, ‘when I wanted to get what I want’ you remember that?” You say. She squeals through the phone. “You like somebody? You’re going to try to seduce them? You whore.” She laughs. “Yeah, if I told you who it was you’d probably freak.” She looks confused but you can’t see it. “What?”

“It’s my Captain.” She gasps. “Y/N! You little minx!” She laughs. “Just.. tell me how to do it.” You breathe. “Okay okay.” She laughs.

“First, start being friendly. When he makes a joke, put your hand on his shoulder, on his knee if you’re sitting next to him. You can fake a laugh, but don’t be obvious.” She says. “I’m listening.” You smile. “Your base isn’t that strict right?” She asks. “No?” She smiles on the other end of the line. “In the morning, before you put your uniform on, go out to get coffee. I’ve done it before in just a tank top and shorts. But you have to track his pattern so you know where he’ll be. Make sure he’s in the room, you don’t wanna seduce the wrong one yknow?” She laughs. “When you’re training, just wear a sports bra and shorts. Tight shorts. Ask him to help you train, and don’t be afraid to make some suspicious noises when you’re working out.” She smirks. “When you’re stretching, whimper. They like that.” You’re laughing. “You seem to know a lot about this.” You laugh. “Of course I do.” She rolls her eyes. You take a deep breath. “Start with those, and I’ll think of some more.” She giggles. “Okay. You’re a life saver.” After some more sly words from her, you talk a little more about everything going on. Once you’re done, you say your goodbyes and hang up.

The nervousness you felt in the morning after the conversation with her was almost too much to bare. You made your way into the mess hall, shorts and a tight tank top just like she said. You knew your Captain didn’t sleep all that well so he was always the first awake. You make your way into the kitchen, your eyes burned from being tired but you needed this. Needed him to pay attention to you. When you step into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes tiredly, his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He has to stop himself from choking on his coffee. He had never seen you dressed like this before. He has to kick himself for acting like a horny teenage boy, it was pathetic. You don't notice anything different about him as you finish getting your coffee, mumbling a small 'good morning' to him.

Over the next couple of weeks, you do as she says. When he'd make you laugh in any way, you'd put a light hand on his shoulder or thigh if you were sitting next to him. You'd come out nearly every morning in something revealing. He didn't seem to show any interest in you which sucked. You started to think maybe he just wasn't interested in you, but after more conversations with Katy, she said to keep up and not let up quite yet. To keep doing it for a while. So you did. It didn't take much to do it anyways.

“Morning Captain.” You say tiredly. “Good morning.” He smiles. He breathes out. He didn’t expect this, the way you looked under your gear. “Why are you awake so early Ah?” He asks. “Didn’t sleep good. Was thinking about working out but Soap is usually my spotter and I know he’s not awake yet.” You sigh. You laugh, sitting across from him at the table. You needed to try something else, so why not this? John perks up. “I could spot you if you need help.” He breathes. He’s trying not to sound too eager. “Oh I’d hate to ask you to do that..” you say innocently. “Oh, it’s no problem. I don’t mind.” He smiles. “Okay. I’ll go get changed and I’ll meet you in the gym?” He nods his head. “Sounds good sweetheart.”

You walk quickly to your room, changing into an even more revealing outfit. You wait around in the gym, doing your usual workout routine. When your Captain comes in, he freezes when he sees you. Sports bra, even tighter shorts. He breathes out, trying to collect his thoughts. Was he really this deprived? Thinking this way about you?

He sets all of his belongings down and makes his way over to you. “Ready?” He asks. Standing over the bench press. You nod your head. "You've stretched already right?" He asks. You nod your head with a smile. You lay down and get adjusted onto it. You grasp the bar, lifting it off of the rack and beginning to lift it up. “Let me know when it gets to be too much.” He says. You nod your head trying to breath through it. Katy’s words echo in your ear.

You start small, small breaths of air leaving your lips, and you get a tiny bit louder, very small moans escape your lips and you don't notice anything at first but as your whimpers got louder, breaths of air leaving your lips with each raise you do, you finally catch it. John stepping back. Having to adjust his hardening cock. The tightening he felt was uncomfortable and he couldn’t take it. You notice this action, having to stop yourself from smiling. It was fucking working.

Katy you devil.

You hang up the bar, struggling a little as you did so. “Did good Y/N.” He smiles. “Thank you, I’m trying.” You laugh. Your body had a slight sheen of sweat. He could see the way your cleavage looked. Beads of sweat. You probably tasted so sweet, he wanted to run his tongue along your skin. He has to shake the thoughts away. So dirty. It was fucking working. You were so surprised. John works out alongside you for only a few minutes longer before excusing himself to go do 'work' which you knew wasn't true. He was rock hard and needed relief, or at least to get away from you. The moment he leaves the Gym, you're picking up your phone to give Katy a call.

When she picks up, the first words out of your mouth are "It fucking worked!" to which she laughs. She asks if you hooked up but of course you say "Not yet." following this up by telling her what had happened with the Gym.

"Maybe you should surprise him in his office if that's where he went. Might walk in on a little something." She laughs. You laugh, shrugging it off. After a little more conversation, you make your way to his office. Maybe she was right. Maybe you might. As you approach you don't hear anything. But you think, he might hear your footsteps and it would be awkward for you to walk away, it'd seem suspicious. So without thinking you come up with some kind of lie and walk right into his office. Your breath leaves your body, a gasp leaving your lips. He gasps out, eyes going wide as he rushes to cover himself up. "Fuck, I'm so sorry." You gasp, rushing to cover your eyes. "I'll.. I'll come back later." You mumble. You step out and he groans in frustration, he needed to catch you before you got away.

He scrambles up to follow after you. Opening up his office door. “Wait- Y/N!” He calls after you. You stop immediately, turning around. “Come here.” He breathes. You nod your head immediately, following him back into his office. “I.. what did you need darling?” He asks. His face is blushing red, and he slicks his hair back, he hadn’t even put his hat on. “I.. I was…” you pause for a second. He’s standing right in front of you, hard. Little beads of sweat on his forehead. You glance down, backing up into his office door and closing it behind you. “I was going to ask if you needed any help. But I guess you answered my question.” You smile. His eyes widen at how forward you’re being, but he’s not going to deny this. He’s breathing hard, he seems nervous.

He takes a step forward and smashes his lips against yours, pushing you back into the wall behind you. He’s got a tight grip on you as he kisses you, teeth knocking against yours with the force of his lips moving with yours. He reaches for the shorts you still have on, pushing them down your legs. Once you’re bare, he lifts you up by your thighs, walking you over to his desk and sliding some of his paperwork off to set you down onto it. “Such a fucking temptress.” He breathes. He leans into you and you hold onto him by his neck, kissing him again. He’s got his hand wrapped around your lower back, hips rubbing into yours. The seam of his pants is stimulating you, making you moan out. He unbuttons them, unzipping them and pushing them low enough to expose his cock. Your eyes widen slightly at him. He spits in his hand, lowering his hand to slide it over your hole, earning a gasp from you. He slides his cock right into you, filling you completely full in one thrust. He clamps a hand over your mouth as a cry is about to leave your lips. “Stay quiet for me darling.” He chuckles. He holds it there as he begins fucking you, your body lurching with every hard thrust he takes. He raises your thighs higher up on his hips, pushing you further back into the desk, until the cold wood is pressed right up against your back. You clutch the edge of it, trying your hardest to stay quiet as he hammers his hips into yours.

“Been such a fucking tease-“ he grits his teeth. Holding onto your thighs. “Walking out there in basically nothing in the morning.. wearing those tight clothes- fuck.” He tilts his head back. Groaning out. “I didn’t think it’d work.” You look up at him, lazy smile on your lips. “You seduced me?” He smirks. You bite your lip, staying quiet. He snorts. “Bad girl hm?” He rubs at your clit with his thumb, and you tilt your head back once again. “Bad, bad girl.” He growls. Your knuckles are turning white with how hard you’re holding onto the desk, a death grip as he pounds you. He pushes a hand down around your throat, pushing down on you lightly. “You didn’t have to work too hard at it baby, just didn’t think you’d go for an old man like me.” He chuckles. “Oh… you have no idea.” You smile. You bite your lip lightly, gripping his wrist. He grits his teeth, he’s getting close. He draws his hand back, squeezing your breast, earning a whine from you. “Rub your clit.” He breathes. You look up at him, raising your hand. “Gonna show you how good I can make you feel.” He breathes. He pulls you closer to him, holding your thighs at a good angle. Instead of full thrusts, he starts grinding his cock into you perfectly. He rubs right up against the spongy spot inside of you and a cry leaves your lips.

He wants to tell you to quiet down, but he doesn’t care who hears anymore. You’re his, all his. “Oh my god-“ you cry out, letting your head rest back on his desk. “So tight on me sweetheart.” He grits his teeth. He keeps the steady pace, and your legs shake slightly as he pushes you closer to your high. “I- I’m gonna cum Captain.” You breathe. He smiles, “cum for me baby, that’s a good girl.” He growls. “Keep rubbing your clit.” He breathes. He’s right there too, praying you’ll cum before him. You tilt your head back, body lurching forward as you reach your high, and once he knows he’s ridden it out for you, he starts thrusting again. It only takes a couple until he’s spilling into you with a groan. You’re breathing hard as he helps you up, standing between your legs still.

“You’re a bad girl you know that?” He laughs. You smile. “Just for you though, Captain.”

“Good. Because I’m going to keep you to myself.” He laughs.

This was just the start of something scandalous.

[kfaem]

drunk thoughts - Zayne Li (LNDS)

pairing: Zayne x Mc genre: fluff, comedy, suggestive-ish (mostly inappropriate comments), some angst if you squint (it's implied that caleb and grandma are dead), domestic cw: established relationship, drinking, she really wants to get into zayne's pants lol, she's hungover in the morning authors note: it's late an i am really tired but got motivation to write so here we are. unedited mess. fun fact about me, I don't get hung over anymore :)

It would be a lie to say Zayne was shocked when his phone rang at the late time 2:36 AM, his lover's name appearing on his screen. Zayne had grown familiar with the Saturday night calls after a mission, her colleagues were always hosting post-mission dinners, which almost always involved alcohol. Zayne glanced at the clock, figuring that the night at the hospital had been slow enough to allow him to slip away just to make sure his girlfriend gets home safe.

Greyson wraps his knuckles on the door, announcing that his girlfriend's colleague was on the line saying she needs a ride home and won't get into the cab they called for her. He sighed, slipping off his glasses and setting them down beside his computer.

"I hope you won't mind my absence, I have to make sure she gets home safely." Zayne hung up his lab coat and grabbed his normal jacket, glancing outside at the freezing cold rain slamming down from the sky. "I shouldn't be more than an hour."

"Go ahead, not like we don't have enough help here anyways." Greyson nodded at him with a knowing smile, leaving the door open behind him knowing the other doctor would follow soon after.

He would be lying if he said her behaviour didn't worry him. The frequent Saturday late night's and the drinking. But he also knew life hadn't quite exactly been kind to her.

Zayne pulled up outside of the bar, spotting a familiar tall blond male and Tara, who were both struggling to keep his girlfriend from running off somewhere. "Oh thank god you're here Zayne, she kept insisting that she knew her limit and just... kept going. I tried to stop her but it... obviously didn't work." Tara chuckled awkwardly.

MC's eyes lit up at the sight of her tall, handsome boyfriend and she rushed over, throwing her arms around him. "You didn't forget about me!" He sighed as she nuzzled her red flushed cheeks against his chest, continuing to blab about how much she missed him. "Mmm, someone tried hitting on me and I told them that my big scary boyfriend would hurt them if they tried anything."

Tara met Zayne's eyes, nodding in confirmation at the girl's claims. "He was kinda scary- real big and muscley, I was actually kinda scared but I knew you'd be here to protect me if I needed help." Zayne frowned, petting her hair comfortingly. "Can we go home now? I wanna sleep..."

"Thank you guys for taking care of her, I'm sure she'll share her appreciation with you both in the morning."

"It's no problem." Xavier nodded.

The ride home was surprisingly quiet, he figured the drunken girl had fallen asleep pretty quickly. That was until they drove past her old apartment. "Y'know..." she slurred. "Hm?" Zayne hummed in acknowledgment. "Even though my old place was nice, I'm glad you asked me to live with you... I feel so much happier having you with me."

"I'm glad." The corner of his mouth lifted, sneaking a glance at her glossy eyes, flushed face, and pouty lips. "We're almost home, are you alright with me getting you ready for bed?"

"We've had sex Zayne, I don' care what you do." She lazily looked at him, lips curled into a smile. "As long as 's you."

He coughed at her brazenness and refocused on the road. "You're always so forward when you drink, it's as if you took a truth serum."

"Mmm, I don' need a truth serum when it comes to you." She let out a deep, content sigh, turning almost on her side to look at him fully. "Zayne?"

"Yes my love?"

"I love you. A lot. Like, way too much. I dunno what I would do without you." Her hand found it's way onto his shoulder, where she allowed her fingers to wander. "You're all I really got left." She mumbled. "I can't wait to get old with you."

"Anyway..." she hummed, mood shifting completely, "we don't get to see each other as often anymore. I don't remember our last date night." As she pouted, he smiled slightly. The memory fondly reappearing in his mind.

"Last Sunday we went for a picnic at that lake a few miles out, a goose stole your sandwich and you pouted for almost the entire day. After that, we went to an older style arcade where we played some games from our childhood and won... three plushies, one of which now sits in my office next to a photo of you."

"How do you remember all of that so perfectly?"

"Because I cherish every moment we spend together." Upon realizing that she likely wouldn't remember much of this, he decided to stop. "There, we're home."

He held back a chuckle as she fumbled with the door handle, failing to open it for a long enough time that he found his way around to pick her up out of the passenger seat. "I could've gotten that!"

"Right, that's why I had to grab you."

"Hmph!" Even with her arm wrapped around his neck and her face cuddled into his chest, she found a way to complain.

He felt her eyes on him the entire walk over to the elevator, a smirk found it's way over his face. "Is there something you wish to say, my aurora?"

"Hmm...no, you're just reallllllly pretty... I wanna kiss you..." He sighed, his thumb caressed her thigh. "Mmm, do you wanna kiss me too doctor?"

"Not when you're like this, no." Zayne fumbled for the elevator button, trying to keep her steady in case she slipped out of his grasp. "If you can remember this tomorrow, I'll gladly kiss you after you've cleaned up."

"You're no fun, y'know that right?"

The elevator dinged as it reached their floor and luckily, she seemed so focused on staring at his face that she stopped trying to make advances on him. "Shit..." he mumbled, reaching their door and realizing that his keycard was in his back pocket. "I have to set you down now, can you stand?"

"Mhmm, I'm not a baby deer, I can take care of myself!" She said this with a childish pout that had him chuckling. "What's so funny?"

With the door open, he quickly went to pick her up again, but much to his dismay, she rushed inside. As if she was on ice, she slipped, falling into the table next to the door. "Alright, that's enough..." He swept her up, not letting her squirming deter him from getting her to their room. "I'm going to change you now, is that okay?" She stared at him with big doe eyes, as if none of his words made it out of his mouth. "MC?"

Her gaze lowered to his lips and back up to his eyes, a knowing look came over her eyes. "I...really want you right now."

"As I said earlier, if you can remember this tomorrow, I'll consider humoring you."

"'m not that drunk though, please babe? It's been so long..."

"I already said no, now I am going to ask again, is it alright if I change your clothes?"

Her lip stuck out in a childish pout, clearly upset that she was turned down yet again. "Mhm, go ahead."

After a rough fifteen minutes and very much struggling, she was out of her clothes and into her pajamas, and now laying down on their bed. "You...didn't win, but I'm tired now...'m gonna go t' sleep now..."

"Of course I didn't, go to sleep my love, I'll see you in the morning."

Zayne gently shut the bedroom door behind him as he left the room, letting out a deep sigh as the chaos was finally over.

She woke up with a pounding headache, her body aching all over. Her hand felt around the bed, searching for the familiar heat that she craved. But it was cold. She opened one of her eyes, blinking away the sleep and pain at the bright sunlight that flooded the room. "Ughhh, did I get hit by a truck or something?" MC mumbled, pushing herself up.

"No, but you did drink far too much." Zayne's calm voice reminded her that she was at home, thankfully, and she was safe. "Not to mention, you apparently got into some trouble prior to me showing up to rescue you."

She racked her brain searching for memories from last night, bits and pieces coming to her in a embarrassing rush. "Gods...please tell me I wasn't too bad."

"Aside from trying to sleep with me and talking a bunch of nonsense, I can't say you were... too bad. Just mildly inappropriate." Finally he set a glass of water down, followed by him holding two painkillers up to her mouth. "Open."

Her throat was sore, likely from a night of shouting and reckless drinking, but the water felt nice. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I drank so much this time."

"You're fine, but I do recommend checking with Tara to see if there's anything you may need to apologize for." Zayne brushed a piece of loose hair away from her face. "Don't worry too much, just rest today. I made breakfast, would you like to come out to eat or should I bring it here for you?"

"I'll come out."

"Alright, I'll meet you out there."

[buddierecs]

jealous!eddie diaz buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

something touched me (like a knife-blade) by: kithmet "eddie self-implodes. christopher, seeking refuge, flees to buck—whose priorities amount to, in varying order: take in the kid, get eddie to talk to him, and keep the three of them afloat in the process. (oh, and tommy’s there too. he thinks.)" word count: 42k important tags: co-parenting, emotional infidelity, possessive behaviour, sexuality crisis, mutual pining, getting together, anal sex, masturbation good pretender by: likeshipsonthesea "an au where buck broke up with taylor before 5b, ravi and buck become (actually platonic) friends with benefits, and ravi, eddie, and buck all go on a journey of self-discovery that ends with them all getting what they need" word count: 85k important tags: fwb!ravi/buck, outsider pov, friends to loves, communication, pining, ptsd, mutual pining, self-worth issues, therapy, anal sex, making out everything (nothing) has changed by: bizarrestars "after eddie gets shot, buck confesses his love. from there, things get a little out of hand." word count: 48k important tags: love confessions, coming out, angst, humor i could get lost in the feelings (just say that you belong to me) by: wikiangela "buck's going on a date, eddie's so jealous he finally snaps and reveals his feelings, which leads to a passionate evening in buck's kitchen." word count: 15k important tags: first time, possessive sex, kitchen sex, blow jobs, anal sex, porn with feeling, multiple orgasms, riding driving me wild by: smilingbuckley "after a drunk night of karaoke and fun, buck wakes up hungover with DIAZ tattooed on his lower back. chimney, who was with him that drunken night, helps buck hide it from the rest of the team, but it makes them think something else going on but then Eddie finds out anyways, with a reaction better than buck could've hoped for." word count: 4.7k important tags: possessive!eddie diaz, getting together, body worship, anal sex, comeplay, friends to lovers, marriage proposal skin/heat/hair in your mouth by: fleetinghearts "eddie’s bad at camping, buck’s trying to make sure he doesn’t get hypothermia, and naked huddling for warmth is only like the third gayest thing happening in the great outdoors" word count: 8.8k important tags: camping, getting together, love confessions, non-sexual intimacy, semi-public sex, blow jobs, dry humping, praise kink 5 times eddie was jealous and 1 time he didn't have to be by: sassysquatch buck makes a new friend. they sometimes have sex. eddie hates the guy, but can't quite figure out why. word count: 14k important tags: 5+1 things, minor buck/oc, mutual pining, friends to lovers, explicit sexual content eddie, enraged and envious by: songbvrd "eddie goes through the stages of grief watching buck and tommy together and gets progressively more unhinged as his jealousy builds." word count: 23k important tags: slow burn, possessive!eddie diaz, idiots in love, panic attacks, pining, mild smut i can see you (up against the wall with me) by: champagne_for_breakfast "another cowboy hat fic inspired by ryan guzman and his appearance in everybody wants some!!" word count: 9.3k important tags: cowboy hats, riding, praise kink, idiots in love, oblivious!evan buckley drink up (you're wasted on me) by: okanus "eddie and buck hook up at the bachelor party. difficulties ensue." word count: 9.5k important tags: infidelity, flirting, sexual tension, first time, drunk sex, praise kink, possessive!eddie diaz me and my wild boy, all of this wild joy by: audreylorriane "eddie and buck love each other but don’t know how to say it, until they do." word count: 12k important tags: angst, fluff, soft!buddie, pining, idiots in love, praise kink, rimming, blow jobs, anal sex, size kink, cock slut!eddie diaz

[nrdmssgs]

Honestly need some nikto being violently concerned over readers health after they came home from a bar all far too loopy and delirious to be normal drunk if you're comfortable with that if you're not that's fine

Masterlist I hope, I got you right.

TW: mention of drug poisoning (no graphical depictions)

He never questioned your loyalty. Nikto may be a territorial animal, but he never doubted you. Others however...

"He-heeey, `m fine! C-can do it on my own," you babble, as you push away his hands and try to untie your shoelaces. If he was concerned before, just witnessing you entering home - now Nikto starts seeing red.

Because how you move and talk is so not you. Nikto saw you tipsy before, once you two even had obviously too much, and he remembered, how you were back then. Silly, yes, soft and mushy, a tad bratty, tired, but still crazy - this all was natural. And now a strange shiver runs all over your body every five minutes.

Oh no, this is not an early hungover. This and the fact, that you spent the last 15 minutes sitting in a hallway, untying and tying your shoes again and again. He sighs and descends on his knees before you. Catches your hands and presses his lips against your knuckles.

"I will help, little one."

You manage exactly one sound: a weak little mewl of protest. But Andre slowly shakes his head, looking you in the eyes and repeats: I. Will. Help.

You finally give in under his intense, and, for a reason unknown to you, concerned gaze. His movements are so careful as if hes undressing a porcelain doll. You smile and giggle, asking him to stop tickling you every time his fingers clasp around your ankles.

It breaks his heart, because he actually barely touched you. Your senses are a mess, your body is not ok, your mind... And what is about your mind?

"Sokrovishche*, tell me, how the evening went? Had fun?" Nikto is a shitty actor, his voice barely masks the fact, that he can barely think straight himself. But you seem to not notice that, because you answer lightheartedly, while he carries you to the bedroom.

Your story is hectic, and the jerky narration doesn't help it: you jump from one topic to another, mix up names and facts. But it's your sincerity that tears him apart - you're not trying to trick Nikto, you're confused and lost.

There is one particular detail reappearing in your story: a guy. You try and try again to remember his face or the name at least, but fail and start worrying.

"It's ok, if you don't remember. Tell us, what you've been drinking, mm? Something tasty?"

Tell us. A bad omen. A terrible one. It's been a while since the last time, the voices have woken up. But you miss this detail, as you miss every second word shared now.

"A glass of wine. Then a glass of water, then again the wine, the same one. After that I got thirsty once again, asked for water, he brought me a bottle, it was sealed, I remember. And then... And then I d-d-ont..." Your eyes widen slowly.

Niktos jaw clenches, a cold light grows stronger deep in pale blue eyes. That scum. Sealed bottles? So he cooks a batch prior to his night out, somewhere in his place...

"Andre, did I?... How long? What did he..." You can't finish any question, your tongue suddenly feels too big and heavy to form a full sentence. In a desperate attempt to catch a breath, you take an inhale, but your breaths grow ragged. Not even noticing this, you start hyperventilating.

He gathers you into his arms, engulfs your body in a warm embrace, hides your face on his chest and softly rocks you back and forth, helping you find a soothing breathing rhythm.

"Vsye khorosho, sokrovishche. You're safe, we promise. No bruises left. He didn't touch you."

When Nikto touches his lips to your forehead, it’s so gentle and careful, one wouldn't believe, such a beast is capable to be this soft. He is easing you into the feel of him as his hands, holding you steady. There may be no bruises, but there can still be other things, your mind has blocked, but your body remembers.

He rocks you against him, breathing in time with him, the measure of his heart a steady clip that you can follow with measured steps. He and every voice awaken thank any gods out there, for you don't tense up, squirm and run from his touch. That gives him hope, that the fucker really didn't manage to do anything.

"We will protect my little treasure." He slowly helps you out of your clothes. It's not an act of seduction, but pure manifestation of care.

"We will calm our little one, take all her worries, guard her in her sleep." Warm lips on the back of your neck. Yet again: this is not a foreplay - it is Andre giving you all the care he has. Anything soft, that he is capable of in this deep mad state of mind, belongs to you.

He takes your worries away, lulls you to sleep, interlocking his fingers with yours, buries his face in your hair, letting you drown in his deep bitterish scent and find your peace in his hands.

Nikto may be a crooked soul, a mind damaged, torn to pieces, but for you he will turn into a bastion against all the darkness in the world.

When he is sure, you're deep in your dreams and nothing bothers you anymore - Nikto vanishes for a few hours.

He rarely uses this set, but there is, in fact, an all black tactical attire in his wardrobe. There is rarely a good reason to take it on, but today is the day. Darker wet stains on black won't draw too much attention in the first lights of the dawn.

You wake in a bed that feels too empty and slowly realize, what have happened. What might have happened after you fell asleep. You wait him out, perched on the edge of your seat, watching him shuck off his gear in a deafening silence.

His mind is still out there. Each glance on you feels like he’s entered a prizefighting ring, and you’re the opponent he needs to face off with next. His jaw works, a muscle ticking, and with that particular, quiet sort of menace he’s just so good at leveraging, he holds out a hand for you to come to him. “He won't ever trouble you again.” Level. More controlled than you expected.

Nikto holds back, not letting himself slide his fingers up your arms and thus leave blood strains on your perfect skin. Never. Never should a blood of such a scum besmear his treasure.

Leave the blood of those who wronged you for his hands.

Sokrovishche - treasure

Vsye khorosho, sokrovishche - everything's allright, treasure