#I spent like all day at work planning the menu out in my head maybe I can have it friday? I shall see cuz I fucking love hosting parties!

[ministry-of-acid]

haiiii people who follow this blog not for the aesthetic posting but to see me go more bananas in real time I got back from a trip to the mountains and had a whole lot of fun learning abt the union mining history there but maybe more importantly in this moment my great big death to america party I had planned for the 4th is gonna be postponed cuz I'm a silly little goose and can't remember when I buy tickets for conventions but maybe more importantly the actor who plays homelander is gonna be at the convention and I'm gonna be. hinged. My dear darling friends got me into it last week and I'm already down atrocious for him heaven help us all

[smolthealmighty]

Even the Losers Get Lucky Sometimes

This might be the fastest I ever wrote a fic, and it was for Spinner's birthday (happy birthday to the boy)! For those not in the know, 4 is an unlucky number in Japan, while 8 is considered to be a lucky one. Take the fact that Shigaraki was born on the 4th day of the 4th month and Spinner was born on the 8th day of the 8th month and...

“None of this canned stuff look appetizing. How about we try cannibalism? Moonfish did and he turned out fine!” Toga declared as she tossed another can of miso-mackerel from the top shelf of the empty cabin’s kitchen pantry over her shoulder.

“Great idea!” Twice agreed as he searched the bottom shelf, then quickly countered, “Not all of us have quirks that allow us to consume human viscera!”

“If we’re being serious then I nominate Spinner to be our meal.” Dabi proposed, as he kicked the discarded mackerel can into the next room.

“Hey what did I do?!” cried Spinner as he nearly tripped over the can.

“Absolutely not, no one’s eating anyone, and especially not Spinner,” Tomura said as he paused his raid of the kitchen cabinets, “Honestly you can’t resort to cannibalism just because you hate canned mackerel.”

“Why not? C’mon look at how much meat he’s got on those bones!” Dabi exclaimed as he grabbed and presented one of Spinner’s arms, “There’s enough protein on one bicep to feed us for a week!” Spinner yelped in response and yanked his arm back, sending Dabi stumbling from the sudden momentum.

“Because Spinner’s the good luck charm that’s why! Now stop thinking about cannibalism and start actually looking for food in here.”

“No need, I found the jackpot!” Mr. Compress called out from the basement, presenting his findings as he reached the top of the stairs. “Behold, mitsumame with pomegranates for Toga, honey mustard-flavored bacon for Twice, and while I couldn’t find soba noodles, I did find gyudon for you Dabi, so you can start building meat on your own bones.” Twice and Toga grabbed the cans out of Mr. Compress’s hands and started fighting over the lone can opener. Dabi rolled his eyes, but accepted his can anyway.

As the League retired to the living room to eat their fill before planning their next move, Tomura and Spinner headed down the stairs to grab their own basement meals.

“Hey, thanks for taking me off the potential menu,” Spinner said, as he and Tomura reached the bottom, “But I’m confused about what you said earlier. Why am I the good luck charm?”

Tomura turned towards him, an incredulous look on his face as if the answer was obvious, then replied, “My birthday is April 4th and yours is August 8th.”

“Um… happy birthday? Wait that’s not for at least another half a year! What does your birthday have to do with this? Better yet, what does MY birthday have to do with this?!”

Tomura sighed, and explained, “Because I was born in the unluckiest day, and you were born on the luckiest one.”

If Spinner’s expression had been one of confusion before it escalated to one of bewilderment now, so Tomura figured he had better clarify his thought process further.

“Okay look. My life sucked to put it lightly. I dunno exactly what happened before meeting Master, but I assume it was traumatic enough that my brain wiped it out of my memory. Hell when I really think about it, even the time I’ve spent under him was kinda shitty. I only started having actual good things happen after I fully formed the League, right about the time we first met you know. Maybe things aren’t the greatest, but it’s like your inherent lucky numbers cancels my unlucky ones out, leaving things okay and manageable rather than an endless barrage of game overs.”

“That’s… that’s honestly the nicest thing I’ve heard directed at me in a while so thanks,” Spinner said, his cheeks visibly warming, “but I wouldn’t consider myself to be ‘lucky’, not after what I’ve been through.”

Tomura paused for a minute, a look of intense internal focus taking over his face, then said, “Well, maybe I’m lucky to have met you.” Spinner’s face warmed further, but a contagious smile spread across his face too, and the pair of villains fell into comfortable silence as they surveyed the endless options of preserved food on the shelves.

Suddenly, Tomura perked up and asked, “Hey, wanna know why I recruited you?”

Spinner startled at the abrupt change in topic but nodded anyway.

“Ok. I know you arrived 10 minutes early and used the extra time to psych yourself into entering the bar,” Spinner let out squeaks of embarrassment as Tomura continued without acknowledging them, “I could hear you mumbling through the door while I was grabbing more Mountain Dew-”

“You had Mountain Dew by the door?”

“Secret stash, not important and do not tell Kurogiri next time you see him. Point is, I heard you quoting Ambrosio’s final monologue from Blight Upon the Righteous and… yeah, my mind was made up before you walked in.”

Spinner stood with his mouth agape for a full ten seconds before bursting into laughter, one part disbelieving and one part utterly giddy.

“You decided to hire me because I quoted an old RPG?”

Tomura squirmed a bit but affirmed, “Yeah, I guess the reasoning sounds stupid out loud, and to be fair learning that you knew how to wield a sword definitely sweetened the deal, but I liked the idea of having someone on the team who I could talk on equal terms with for once. It’s a change of pace from talking up to Master or talking down to a bunch of faceless grunts, and even then, its only ever about the next big scheme.”

By then, Spinner’s chuckling had subsided and his smile had turned into a look of soft admiration, encouraging Tomura to admit one last thing.

“Spinner, you’re the only person I know who I can act like a 20-year-old with and still take me seriously afterwards. I hope you know how much I appreciate that.”

“It’s nothing that special”, Spinner claimed, “Don’t you do the exact same thing for me?”

Feeling his own face break out into a blush at the realization, Tomura turned back towards the shelf to pick his choice of lunch, but not before letting Spinner see that his answer made him smile.

“Still,” Spinner continued, “that was one hell of a gamble you took on me.”

“If recruiting you was a gamble,” Tomura replied, handing Spinner a can of nikujaga that matched his own, “then I won the jackpot.”

[sierrawr]

NOBODY GETS ME LIKE YOU

It was the spring of 2020 where you meet Minhyung Lee, the one who you thought would last forever by your side through thick and thin. You were working part time as a barista at a coffee shop near your college and he was one of the regular customers of the coffeeshop.

"Can I have one banana smoothie and bagel, please?"

You are not going to deny that he does have a good looks. But you know better not to messed up while you are still working.

"Sure! Will that be all?"

You decided to take a good look of his face while his eyes are still scanning the menu. When he turned to look at you, that's when you tear your gaze away from him pretending look at anywhere else but him.

"Yeah, that will be all."

He cracks a small smile as he open his wallet before he handed you the notes to pay for his order.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but we only use cashless transaction here."

His eyes followed your hands which shows him the notice that says only cashless transaction is allowed.

He he purse his lips as he closed his eyes in embarrassment.

His cute gestures made you chuckled.

"It's alright, you are not the first one with the same mistake in here. Would you like to use your card, then?"

The clock reads 11:45 at the moment and you have to closed the coffee shop at 12 am. Since he is obviously the last customer, you thought that there is no harm in giving your kindness towards him. On the other hand, he let out a heavy sigh before thanking you for letting him know that there's some other people who did the same mistake as him.

"Yeah- But.. The truth is that I'm not good with card or stuff with machine thingy like the ATM or something like that. I guess I'll have to kiss my banana milk and that bagel a goodbye."

You appreciates his honesty and it feels a shame to let him go out of the coffeeshop empty handed.

"I'm afraid you will not kiss them a goodbye. The options that I have for you is for me to teach you to use the card if you want me to, or.. I can buy it for you. So which one of the options would you like to use?"

It is obvious that he did not expect the options that you gave him.

"Yo, I- I can't let you do that, you work here for a reason and you barely know me. I don't want you to use any of your money to me so you can keep it to yourself and use it for the stuff you wanna buy."

You can't lie that you are touched when you listened to his explanation about the reason why he don't want you to spend your money on him.

"And.. I kind of forgot the PIN number, only my mom knows it but I'm afraid she's asleep at this hour."

You nodded your head before you asked him to wait for a moment as you take his order at the kitchen. Few minutes later, you came out with his banana milk and bagel that you reheat just now. He was about to refuse when you swiftly hands it to him but insist that he should have it. And the next thing happened is you gave him a company as he finishes his banana milk and bagel while you are closing the coffee shop.

"I seriously can't thank you enough for this. The whole day was too hectic for me today and I did not even realize that I skipped my dinner. How should I compensate you though? I should return your kindness, so is there any way or anything that I can do to do so, please? "

It felt surreal that you, yourself have no idea how did your crush on him grows big and bigger from the moment he stopped by at the counter until this moment. But one thing that you know for sure, you gotta try to shoot your shot. And that's what you did.

"Maybe you can start by introducing yourself because I still don't have your name."

You successfully made him blushed so hard, and both of you spent the night getting to know each other while enjoying each other company until 1 am.

that night, you have learned that he is a Korean and his name is Minhyung Lee. But he mainly use his English name, Mark, around his friends. Apart from that, he is graduating from his high school soon and planning to further his studies at a college and both of you also learned that you are around the same age except for the fact that he is older than you.

Ever since then, he has been a regular customer of the coffee shop. And it would be a lie if you deny your true feelings towards him. You are afraid to confess because you are scared to get hurt by rejection. And you were glad you didn't. Because he just stopped going to the coffee shop and you had never seen him again ever since then.

A few months after that, you graduated from high school and got an offer to study at a college in Canada. You don't know why, but you decided to take the offer as it reminds you of Mark, who once mentioned that Canada was his hometown.

It is the New Year Eve where everyone is waiting for the countdown for the new year to start. And your eyes met with a pair of dark brown eyes which is familiar to you.

[moonswolfie]

Taste testers

Tendou x gn!reader

I'm finally back with this series!! Today's victim is Tendou (or more accurately you) but you'll see you'll see

Also I hate the new tumblr website UI why 😭 I loved the old one what is this

Timeskip spoilers watch out!!

"Baby, come to the kitchen!" you heard your husband calling you from downstairs as you were playing with Chihiro.

It was another one of those days that he spent almost entirely in the kitchen experimenting with new chocolate recipes. Sometimes he found himself a new bestseller, but most of the time you and your daughter just ate strange chocolate samples and nothing came of it.

You and Chihiro went downstairs, Chihiro almost falling down the stairs because she was so excited to try some chocolate.

"Tadaaa!" Tendou slid a tray of small chocolate samples towards you and Chihiro, smiling proudly and rather... mischeviously.

You helped Chihiro up on the chair, and her little hand immediately grabbed one of the chocolates, shoving it in her mouth. Both of you giggled at her eagerness.

"It'sh gooh!" Chihiro shouted, mouth full of chocolate. Tendou laughed, and said "What can I say, I've got a knack for making good chocolate."

"Not only is that factually untrue considering the amount of times I had to wash my mouth out after trying one of your weird chocolates, kids like anything sweet." you reached for one of the chocolates, smirking.

"Ouch, my heart's been shattered into a million pieces. You just don't understand my artistic expression." Tendou dramatically grabbed his chest, pretending to be hurt, but he still had a goofy smile on his face.

You put the chocolate in your mouth, and it tasted... normal. Strangely normal.

You shrugged it off, since there was usually one or two normal tasting chocolates among the selection every time he did this.

Chihiro was already on the third one, and she was praising each one of them, which you found a bit strange. By now she would usually be retching and telling Tendou one of them tastes gross.

So you followed behind her, tasting the second and third sample, and finding them to taste like good, regular chocolate.

Hmm, maybe he was actually more serious about expanding the menu of chocolates this time.

The fourth and fifth also tasted fine. Tendou smiled as he watched you two eating and praising his chocolate. But there was something... off about his smile.

You reached for the sixth and final sample and gave one to Chihiro, who devoured it immediately, smiled and said it tasted great. So you took the chocolate, putting it in your mouth and chewing, unsuspecting.

Immediately, your throat started to burn.

"Satori- What the-" you yelped. What the hell did he put in this chocolate?!

"What's wrong?" he asked with an innocent tone, but you knew better. "What did you- Put in this chocolate?!" you wheezed at the hot feeling in your throat.

He smiled mischeviously, pulling out a bottle of extra hot hot sauce. "Oh, just a bit of hot sauce. What do you think?"

"Hot sau-" you were in utter shock. So this is what he was planning all along. What a sly little devil. You ran to the fridge and started downing a carton of milk. Chihiro watched with a worried expression while Tendou cackled wildly.

Once the burning in your throat subsided a bit, you angirly looked to Tendou. "Satori, what the hell?!"

He laughed, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, it's just- I wanted to prank you a bit." he wheezed.

"You freaking- I'm so getting you back for this, you better watch your back from now on." you said poking his chest with your finger as a warning. You should have known he was planning something.

He just laughed in response.

"I hate you." you crossed your arms.

"I love ya too, darling." he smiled and pecked your cheek, and then the other.

"Hey, don't try and win my forgiveness with kisses. It won't work." you tried angling your head away, but he still somehow managed to land a kiss on your lips, making him giggle victoriously.

"Eww, dad! That's gross!" Chihiro yelled at the top of her lungs and ran upstairs to get away.

"Well, now we got the kitchen all to ourselves." Tendou looked at you, shrugging and smiling.

"So why don't you taste test something even sweeter than chocolate?"

[pocarinapyon]

Nuisance of Being a Woman

For the past few weeks, you and your boyfriend had been preoccupied with work and it was ages since you two spent some quality time together. Thus, you agreed to set everything aside on Valentines Day for each other.

The special day came. You were supposed to go on a long-awaited date with your boyfriend but your body (cough - period cramps - cough) had other plans.

Starring : Albedo, Alhaitham, Childe (Separate)

Extras / Mentions : Klee, Sucrose, Kaveh

Tags / Warnings : 🌶️ [Mild Chili] Some suggestive themes (Alhaitham, Childe); Albedo being the only sane guy among the three (loljk what I meant was sweet Bedo); Petnames, if it bothers you; Stray cuss words; Mentions of blood (because periods!); Feeling insecure because of stains; Self-indulgent because stupid cramps and period got me absent yesterday, and nearly today 🥺 Oh what a way to start the week!

Pls. Lmk if there are typos or grammatical errors or whatever.

Future Plan : N/A... Maybe to go see a doctor IRL? LOL! 😅🤣😭

Target is female reader.

To whoever is reading please enjoy.

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

Albedo

"Big brother, let's go! You've been fixing your hair for the past ten minutes!" Klee exclaimed as he watched her brother who painstakingly styled his already majestic fluffy hair.

Albedo chuckled at the girl munching on sweets.

"Of course. I want everything to be perfect. Today is a special day, after all," he explained, patting Klee's head lovingly. "Now then, I think it's time we head out."

"Hehe~! Okay!"

Albedo and Klee strolled outside and was greeted with various romantic decorations. Restaurants served special menus and discounts for couples. Shops sold merchandises that were meant to express love. Bards sang ballads of romance. Truly, love was in the air and its effects were contagious.

"You behave yourself now, okay? We'll pick you up at eight," Albedo knelt on the ground and reminded the energetic lass as he patted her head.

"Okay! I promise I will behave," Klee repeated solemnly. "Hehe~! Bye! Enjoy your date with [your name]!"

Albedo hummed with a nod. The girl gave him a tight hug of goodbye - to which the Chief Alchemist reciprocated with a gentler one - before running off to play with her friends. He watched his sister flee then made his way to your meeting spot. Usually, the three of you would spend the day together looking like a family. But today, Albedo deemed it had to be just the two of you.

The Favonius Captain of Investigation Team, for once, felt anxious. It was now an hour past the agreed time and there were still no signs of you. Perhaps he had not realized he made you mad at him for spending less time with you? Or perhaps he had done or said something wrong during the brief moments you spent with each other? But whatever it was, his brain cannot seem to remember anything that warrants your absence on a special day.

"Mister Albedo, good morning," Sucrose greeted, effectively distracting the young man in his deep thoughts.

"Mmh. Good morning," he replied. "Have you, by any chance, seen [your name]?"

"Today? No, I'm sorry."

So it was possible you haven't been out of your house. He thanked his subordinate and decided to investigate. Striding away from your agreed place, he went to visit your home.

Albedo stood in front of your door. He observed you truly were at home as you left your outdoor lights on. Did this mean you overslept? Three knocks and a call of your name. No answer. He tried again. Still no answer.

"Pardon my intrusion, my love, but I am going in," he warned, bringing up his spare key to the doorknob.

He pushed the door open and was greeted by the silent corridors of your humble home. Your footwear remained in the doorway, further proving you have not left.

"Bedo...," your weak voice called, suggesting you were in pain.

"My love," he responded immediately.

Your lover rushed to the source of your voice - your room - and found you curled like a ball on your bed, grimacing in pain somewhere located in your lower abdomen. Your lower garments were stained red, inking your sheets with the same colour.

Ah, period cramps. A severe one.

"Nnh... Bedo, I - I'm sorry you had see me like this," you winced, feeling the stinging pain brought by your period.

"There is no need for you to apologize, my love," Albedo cooed. "How are you feeling?"

You felt the side of your bed dripped as Albedo sat on it. He gently rubbed your back.

"I - I feel so messy. This is embarrassing...!" you whined.

The thought of your perfect lover witnessing you in a horrible state brought tears to your eyes. What if he didn't want to see you again? What if he realized he was out of your league? What if he left you for someone better? Terrible ideas invaded your brain as your hormones told you how Albedo was not meant for you.

"Hush, my love," Albedo, sensing your distress, gently said as he planted a kiss on your cheeks. "Please do not fret. Allow me to prepare you a soothing lavander mix and a warm bath to get you cleaned up. Also, is there anything you're craving?"

"N - no...," you protested. "Bedo, we were supposed to have a picnic on Starsnatch Cliff. And I was supposed to prepare our food. And I was supposed to be on our meeting place at what? An hour ago? Archons, I'm sorry I ruined our plans," you cried, sniffing your snot so as to not destroy your already unsightly image.

"My love...," Albedo uttered as his heart broke watching you fret over something that didn't matter to him. "A ruined date is nothing compared to your health. You. Your well-being is what's important to me. Rest assured my love for you will never fade and will only continue to grow."

Slowly facing your lover, you blinked your tears away. Albedo, your prince, looked perfect - was, is, and will always be perfect. While you, you looked like shit right now. And you both missed your date because of you. You-

"I love you," Albedo declared, kissing your tears away.

You nodded. The horrible thoughts terrorizing you were banished by your prince as he caressed your face and gingerly drew circles with his thumb, effectively melting you into his loving touch. A victorious smile painted Albedo's face as he was relieved he was able to calm you down.

"My love, I understand the pain makes it difficult but please try to relax. You don't have to worry about a thing. Please, as your lover, let me take care of you."

-----

Alhaitham

"Alhaitham," Kaveh called, popping in front of the muscular man out of nowhere. The blonde then sniffed his roommate causing Alhaitham to retract. "Is that actually perfume on you?? Wait! Of course! It's Valentines Day! Ugh! Don't tell me you're planning to have sex here tonight? Frankly, I don't want to hear you guys shagging."

Alhaitham rolled his eyes at his guest's peculiar actions. Obviously he wanted to score. The last time you and Alhaitham did the deed was a month ago - and that was a quickie because you had fieldwork to do. After that, he couldn't help but crave for more. Today was, after all those excruciating lonely nights, finally the day he would indulge himself in your warmth after your modest lunch.

"What of it if I bring [your name] home?"

"Ugh! I know what will happen when you bring her home. You're going to take her directly into your room, banging and fucking her until all Teyvat knows your name."

"Hmph. That's a perverted imagination you have right there. I'd advise you to stop thinking about my girlfriend like that. Also. If you think it is awkward, why don't you leave my house instead?"

"Woooow! Are you actually kicking me out?? You are so petty!"

After the battle of wits against his roommate - and effortlessly winning - Alhaitham rushed to your house. As agreed upon, he was to pick you for lunch and he was a buzzer beater. So there he stood in your doorway, shuffling his gift from his hands - an assorted liqueur-filled dark chocolate from Fontaine - before knocking at your wooden door.

Odd. Usually, you would have already answered his call by now. After a few minutes of waiting, Alhaitham deemed it would be wise to knock once again. But before his knuckle could meet the thick wood, you slowly creaked the door open to reveal yourself.

Odd. Usually, you would have already been dressed by now - complete with your cute outfit, fashion accessories, and make-up. However, it seems you had just taken a bath as your hair was wet and a towel draped on your shoulders. Another thing the scribe did not fail to recognize was the sweat drops littering your forehead. Calculating all the possibilities, to his dismay, the most probable reason for this was-

"Darling," you greeted in a forced energetic voice. Stepping aside to welcome your lover, you beckoned, "Come in."

Your lover let himself in your home, his turquoise eyes meticulously observing your sluggish movements. Also, you were hunched a little, indicating you were in pain.

"Sorry if I'm still in my house clothes. I'll...get dressed real quick."

----------

"Are you on your period?" Alhaitham inquired, aiming straight to the heart of the problem.

"Ah -!" you uttered, momentarily freezing at his accurate calculation. "Y - yes...," you yielded, sighing as you could sense the disappointment in Alhaitham's tone of voice even if he did not admit it. You did not dare look into your lover's eyes as you knew his dismay would be evident there. Instead, you walked towards your living room and beckoned him to follow while providing a simple explanation, "My cramps are acting up again."

"Ah. Cramps. Of course," your lover repeated, his tone now laced with mischief.

From behind, Alhaitham snaked his arms around your waist, one hand still held his gift while the other soothed your lower abdomen with a massage. He pressed onto your flesh and rubbed lower as to help flush out the pesky blood. In this distance, you could smell the intoxicating perfume he had on and you simply melted in his muscular arms, moaning softly as he continued his ministrations. Meanwhile, Alhaitham could also whiff the scent of your shampoo, effectively luring him deeper into depravity.

"Darling, I've learned sex can help ease menstrual cramps," he whispered on the shell of your ear, fanning his hot breath to stimulate you. It was all he needed to say.

"Haitham..." You didn't intend to moan his name but you did - and you knew he was, in a way, manipulating you to get what he wanted. So you reasoned, "You know period sex is messy, right?"

"It's nothing shower sex can't fix. Besides," Alhaitham spoke as he began to kiss your neck hungrily. "It's effective in relieving your pain and it aids in flushing out your uterine lining. It's highly beneficial for you, don't you think?"

"Oh, darling. You're so needy," you teased as you allowed Alhaitham to touch your body. He was right though: you were starting to forget the pain you were feeling earlier.

"I am," he admitted, his hands now free and undressing you. "I've missed you so much."

You rested your head on Alhaitham's broad shoulders and let him rouse your already burning body, whimpering and moaning at his devouring passion.

"Feels good already, doesn't it? Heh. I told you it relieves cramps. Wait 'til I massage your walls with my fat cock."

-----

Childe

Childe, in a relationship, had always been clingy with his beloved. He loved sweet embraces, cuddles, kisses, and any other form of skinship, grounding him that he was still a human who longed for affection.

Unfortunately, in the recent weeks, he was deprived of your loving touch. The distance tore him apart as he was sent back to Snezhnaya while you traveled to Sumeru. Your love letters were the only things he used to get by, but even it was not enough.

No, it was never enough.

On your letter, you agreed to meet with Childe in Sumeru and spend the Valentines in the nation of Dendro. This greatly excited the ginger as the giddy thought sent him to euphoria.

Luck didn't seem to be on his side as he was requested to extend his stay in his mother nation. No worries. He calculated if he boarded the earliest ship, he would disembark on exactly Valentines Day. At least he could still spend the day of love with you. In short, his romantic plans for the two of you were not entirely spoiled.

Yet.

The fourteenth of February. Finally, the naval ship he was in had reached Port Ormos. Almost jumping from the ship, he quickly disembarked and rushed to the room you mentioned you were occupying.

"[Your name], babe, your husband is here!" he called after knocking on your rented room's door. "My love! My darling! My baby!"

He couldn't help his excitement. It had been so long since he last saw you. So when you opened the door, he immediately pounced at you and engulfed you in a tight hug.

"Baby girl, I missed you so much!"

"Childe."

Unacceptable! Did you just call him Childe instead of baby boy? Or hubby? Or my darling snowflake of Snezhnaya? Seriously, he would be rather called anything other than Childe, or Tartaglia.

And you weren't reciprocating his embrace! Did his long absence make you mad at him? Or maybe it was because he had not given you his souvenir from back home yet?

Did you wince??

"Hey, baby girl, what's wrong?"

"Ugh... Period. And cramps. And pain everywhere," you explained.

Yikes!

"Aw... My baby is hurting. Have you been drinking a lot of water? Or do you want to try turmeric or ginger?"

"Heh... Ginger. But, you're a ginger, right?" you retorted jokingly before whimpering at the sudden sting on your lower abdomen.

"That's not what I meant, wifey," Childe chuckled and shook his head. "Let me help."

Childe then, with his strong hands, gave you a back massage as he knew you don't bruise easily during your time of the month. He started on your shoulders and worked downwards, pressing and kneading on your muscles in hopes of easing your pain.

"Mmh... Baby, you're so good," you moaned, melting at the pleasure of your lover's soothing touch.

"Haha! Are you actually horny right now?" Childe asked, still working his thumbs on your muscles.

"A bit... I've missed you, you know," you admitted, closing your eyes at the heavenly sensation of Childe's strong hands. You leaned yourself on the wall so your boyfriend could apply more pressure.

"Aw, baby! I've missed you too! Want to have sex?"

"Pfft. No. Not now, baby. You know I'm on my period."

"Babe," Childe whined without interrupting your massage. "C'mon. Just today. Please? I'll help you clean up, I promise," he negotiated. No, he begged.

"I'd love to, babe, but-"

"No buts, babe," Childe immediately replied.

He then shifted his hands on your hips while still kneading his thumbs on your body. Trapping you between the wall and himself, Childe inched closer to you so you could feel the bulge poking you from behind.

"Just today, babe," he whispered in an erotic tone.

The thought of your pussy staining his cock red caused blood to rush down his manhood. He could take you here and now but he had to be careful not to cause you any more pain.

You clicked your tongue in response.

"Fine. But I expect to be pampered later. I want a nice warm bath and another massage. There has to be scented candles and flower petals on the thub and the bed. Plus-" you then continued on with your demands.

Childe didn't mind. He'd be willing to go the extra mile just to make you happy. But right now, the only thing on his mind was to fuck the blood out of your pussy.

He would make you feel good, he promised.

Hello, headache! Hello, abnormal bleeding! Hello, cramps! We've said our greetings, now can we say our goodbyes??

To whoever read this, thank you for your time. Here, have some take-aways. 🥡🥡

[thessalian]

Thess vs Next Fest 2023, Pt 5

And again with the demos. Well, there were breaks between each of these for bath and dinner. Anyway, you know the drill.

Book of Hours: Do we just ... not have tutorials anymore? This game looks like it’s taking some cues from Disco Elysium, but the problem is that it’s not precisely straightforward about how any of it operates from a gameplay point of view. I have a journal. It wants me to read the journal and use it to unlock Wisdom. Except it’s not telling me how to read the journal and there’s a health meter literally counting down because I apparently turned up half-drowned and soaked. Seriously, Weather Factory, you could at least tell me how the fucking controls work. If you can’t do that in the demo, then I’m no longer interested. Even if it did look kind of cool. Maybe when it comes out and there’s a decent walkthrough.

I Am Future: It’s another one of those “build yourself a home with only what viable resources you can drag out of the world” games, but in this case it’s kind of post-apocalyptic rather than wilderness. I mean, it does actually call itself “cozy apocalypse survival” but for some reason, those things don’t really fit well together in my head. It’s cute, but not what I’d call better than the other games of its type. Worth a try if you like that sort of game but haven’t found one that calls to you yet. (Also more than a little annoyed that there’s no character creation menu. You’re basically stuck with big beefy red-haired dude, though there’s a limited outfit selection and you can get rid of the beard.)

Inkbound: This one’s ... interesting. Mechanics-wise, it’s basic - simple three-class setup with just a few basic but upgradable attacks, turn-based. What it’s about, though ... didn’t get far enough into the demo to get a good sense of the story, but basically you are an ink-person trying to save the Sea of Ink from horrible monsters. There’s more story to it than that, I’m pretty sure. The character customisation, insofar as you can take it with the three-class set-up, is like all of the rest of the graphics - cute in a bizarre kind of way. It’s definitely one for the midway point of the list, possibly higher once I get the hang of that sort of mechanic (which’ll probably involve me going back to Torchlight because there’s a similar feel in the class set-ups between the first Torchlight game and Inkbound). So kind of quirky, kind of neat, and my only real issue with it is that some of the voice acting was a little awkward

I’ve still got about five more to go and I plan to prod Steam’s demo collection for more before the Next Fest ends. It’s kind of nice going through all the new stuff that isn’t necessarily one of the big AAA titles I mostly find out about from Tumblr, Reddit, or the sides of buses. Like, they always say how much good indie stuff is out there right now and a lot of the ones I’ve been trying are at least trying for innovation, even in specific niches like colony sims.

For now, though, I need a break and something to sink my metaphorical teeth into, I think. Demos are really just hors d’oeuvres; something to whet the appetite. And since I can’t be gorging myself on those games because they’re not out yet, I do have actual full games. Plus ... if I’m honest, it’s nice to go back to my comfort zone when I’ve spent days bouncing through a variety of different UIs and unfamiliar mechanics. Especially when it’s half past eleven in the evening and I had a productive day.

[crmsnmth-journal]

9/18/2024 10:14 PM

There is one major thing that's always bugged me at the alley. I'm the kitchen manager, or as some call it (but it is totally not) Head Chef. It's a bowling alley. We don't have a fucking chef. Either way, I am the kitchen manager and the boss of the kitchen when it comes down to it. I decide what products we use, and order all the products. I'm the one who keeps track of budget numbers, sales, hours, and blah blah blah. What I'm not allowed to do, is fuck with the menu. I took the kitchen manager the first time way back in 2016 and left in 2019. I came back, to the kitchen manager job in late 2020…maybe early 2021. Doesn't matter. What matters is I have never been given any sort of control over the actual menu. What we have, and what we don't have is set. The specials are set, everything is this very static menu. And I've complained about this before. And suddenly, now that my foots somewhere else, I'm finally offered something I've wanted. On Saturdays, I ca do whatever I want for a special. I real "chef's choice" kind of thing. And I'll do it, right up to the day I quit. Than it's there problem. It's going be even worse now when I leave. Sherry is very close to being fired. I know, I know, I've heard that before, but now it's not just Mike telling me this. They have nobody to take her place, and there is no fucking way in hell I'm touching those hours. I'm not getting screwed over at my job I actually like to suffer more in a job I hate.

My outpout has gone down a lot lately. Writing my shitty poetry, I mean. I was writing them alot and I've got one hell of a back cataloge of ideas on my phone. I have been however, working on my main project, an autobiographical project called "How I Spent My Summer Vacation". Doing yet another edit. Fixing things. And I'm taking every unhinged sentences and placing it out of context has an almost ad/teaser kind of thing. I don't know. Maybe I just like the fact that I'm probably the first person in human history to write the words "I guess Wednesday afternoon isn't really a hopping good time at the Planned Parenthood."

[helloalasdair]

24 hours in Brighton, 19-20th May

I've been meaning to take a holiday for a while and have never quite got my shit together enough to make it happen, so as with all things my hand was eventually forced by a gig. Brighton is about three and a half hours away by train (going via London) so I would have had to book some time off work anyway. I ended up getting an earlyish train down, getting in at lunchtime, and leaving just after lunch on Saturday.

I dithered right up until a couple of days before on whether to stay for one night or two, but went for one on the basis of being very, very worn out and wanting to be able to enjoy it and then relax the next day. Immediately after booking I found three things on as part of the Brighton Fringe that I wanted to see, scheduled for after I left. C'est la vie.

In the end, I didn't bother with trying to see stuff which I'm quite glad about. Instead, I just had a wander about after checking in/out: along the sea front, the pier, Western Road, North Laines, started to read my book, whatever. Had I planned more and then, crucially, stuck to it, maybe I'd have managed the Lanes, the naturist beach, and more food. Regardless, I'm happy with how I did it.

Food: main things were Happy Maki on Friday and Neighbourhood on Saturday. Also, a vegan soft serve ice cream place near West Pier, Brighton's own memento mori out at sea. I'd have to go through my banking app to find others; shan't.

Happy Maki: vegan sushi. I opted for the mock duck sushi burrito to take away, which did not retain enough structural integrity on my walk to the gig venue. As the rice collapsed, so did my last shred of dignity as I shoveled it into my mouth on a street corner. Delicious though, as were the satay inari pockets. Just wish I'd decided to eat in, with access to more napkins.

Neighbourhood: vegan brunchy place; you probably know the sort. Lots of grains and avocados, but still a loaded fries on the menu. I actually went for the breakfast hash because I like avocado now and that novelty hasn't yet worn off.

Quick nose further around some of the vintage shops and I had to head to the station. I also found a queer community centre/cafe/fringe performer hub, which I think is permanent but fairly new. We love to see it.

One of the things that struck me about it is that yes, it's very gay all over, but Kemptown is still referred to as the LGBTQ quarter. I assume this means concentrations of gay at levels previously unknown to humanity. We love to see it.

It is still a seaside town though, with all the kitsch I associate with that. I found an absolutely terrifying postcard with Queen Liz 2 on it - the flash was not kind to her - and sent it to my friend Martin in New York. Lots of Queen, no Charles, lots of London memorabilia, Union Jacks next to pride flags - an odd mix! Side note, even as someone who loves rollercoasters, you could not get me on anything set on a pier. Even at low tide.

I'm already planning a trip back, possibly in July for Trans Pride, possibly for my birthday in October to coincide with starling murmuration season. And I might have spent half an hour looking at flats to rent on Rightmove.

[yelenasdiary]

A Beautiful Chaos

Pairing: Florence Pugh X Fem! Reader.

Summary: You & Florence are in the planning stages of your wedding, with the help of Flo’s family, it can’t be that hard…right?

Word count: 0.8K

Warnings: None

Type: Fluff

AC: This was a request - I am reposting all my one shots due to this being a new blog.

“I like the Chocolate Raspberry Truffle!” Toby expressed his interest. “The Caramel Apple is too good to pass though!” said Raffie. “Ooo but that Southern Hazelnut Praline is to die for!” Arabella smiled before pinching another tester. “Guys, we only need 1 cake so I guess we need a vote out of the 3” Florence spoke standing at the head of the table. “Mum, Dad, what’re your thoughts?” she asked. 

“Choc raspberry is wining it for me,” Clinton said, placing his teaspoon on the small plate. “I have to do with the hazelnut” Debra added on. “Well then, I guess that just leaves us babe” you smiled at Florence. You both tried the 5 cake samples you’d brought home. All tasted so good but as Florence said, you only needed 1 cake for your wedding. Personally, you liked the chocolate raspberry truffle, maybe because you were secretly a chocoholic or maybe because raspberry was one of your favourite fruits. You waited for Florence to finish taste testing before saying anything. “I’m torn between the caramel apple or the chocolate raspberry” she groaned, looking at the cakes and thinking further about her choice. “Well, I’m all for the choc raspberry” you spoke. “Well, that’s settled!” Raffie jumped up from her seat, “I guess it is” Florence smiled, “Chocolate Raspberry it is!” she added. 

Choosing your cake was just 1 of the many things that needed to be done before the wedding. Florence still hasn’t picked out a dress so most of her day was spent with Raffie, Arabella & her mum dress shopping while you’d already picked out your dress (or suit). You wanted this day to be as perfect as possible. You could marry her at a gas station and it would still be perfect in your eyes but she deserved the whole package. 

“Have you guys looked at the menu ideas I gave you?” Raffie asked, looking at the pair of you. “We did!” Flo walked over to the kitchen countertop, “We wrote down the ones we would like” she added, placing the notepad in the centre of the table. Florence loved the idea of her whole family being involved in the wedding. Her dad gave you the details of a few chefs that would be available, Toby requested that he’d perform a few songs for you guys, Raffie and Arabella were bridesmaids, Raffie had already called shotgun on this when she and Flo were younger. While Debra and Clinton wanted to watch the big event from the front row. Your family and close friends joining them. 

“You guys want a Waffle table?! I love that!” Raffie laughed as she read the notepad, Florence turned to you, confused, “A waffle table? Really babe?” she smirked. “What?! I like waffles” you smiled raising an eyebrow. “I’ll give this to David,” Clinton said as Raffie handed him the notepad. David is the chef you guys decided on. 

Months of planning turned into weeks, everything being slightly stressful. Flowers still haven’t been ordered, Florence still couldn’t decide on a dress, guests were calling every few hours to RSVP, the venue was booked and the honeymoon was still being planned. 

“What if we put this table here and that table there?” Toby suggested as you all sat at the table working out the venue layout. “Yeah but then there’s no room for the kid section” Raffie added. It was often rare that you and Florence were sharing your thoughts during debates. Both of you sat back watching the mini arguments unfold before Florence would spend in. “Do you think if we snuck upstairs they’d notice we left?” you whispered to Florence who was watching Toby and Raffie re-drawing layouts on scrap paper. “I don’t even think they’d notice if we didn’t show up to the wedding” Florence sarcastically said with a laugh. 

“What’s funny now?” Raffie’s eyeshot up at you and Florence. “Nothing” you smiled. Florence grabbed some scrap paper and draw a layout that she thought would work well. “Flo, if we put the gift table there we lose dance floor space” you rolled your eyes sarcastically as Toby and Raffie looked at Flo’s drawing. “This actually makes sense” Toby sat back in his chair. Florence laughed lightly before getting up and walking into the kitchen. 

Soon enough, weeks tuned into a single digital count down. You and Florence stood in the kitchen, behind the large island, watching as her family argued over small things, things you and Florence no longer worried about. “I can’t believe in 6 long days, I can finally call you my wife” Florence spoke as you placed your left arm around her waist. “Mrs Y/l/n-Pugh” as a great ring to it” you replied, kissing her cheek. “God, I hope they aren’t this crazy when we decide to have kids” she added, “Hey, let’s just deal with one beautiful chaos at a time,” you said watching a small form on her lips.

[perceabeth]

childhood friends coffee shop au

mari bestie u missed the memo where i said JOCK au but it's ok i wrote u this <3

People Watching

“What about the kids sitting at Crescent?”

“Cres– you can’t name our tables, Annabeth.” Percy leans his elbows on the counter and peers around the snack shelf. “That’s… no. I think they’re friends.”

“So you knew what I meant by Crescent.” Annabeth points a finger at him and Percy snorts.

“The table by the window that opens up into Crescent Street? It isn’t rocket science.” He flicks her forehead and Annabeth scowls at him. “But they’re not dating. Look– the guy in the yellow jacket, he keeps checking his phone. It’s way too desperate– he’s texting a partner, or a potential partner, a crush. You know.”

“Fair enough.” Annabeth looks around the room. It’s slim pickings today– late Tuesday mornings aree generally quiet.

“There.” Percy says. “What about that group by The Bar?”

“The Bar?” Annabeth makes a face at him. “I’ll have you know that table is named Lawyer’s Ledge. Silena and I spent ages naming these tables. They’re our children.”

“Except all your names suck. But fine. Who in that group is dating?”

Annabeth observed them carefully. “There. The girl in green and the ginger girl. Look at the way they look at each other. I’d bet money they’re holding hands under the table when they think their friends aren’t watching.”

“I’m not sure. The tall skinny guy bought the redhead’s drink.”

“So? Maybe they’re friends. Maybe he owes her.”

“Fine. It doesn’t matter.” Something over her shoulder catches his attention. “Don’t make it obvious but a new couple just walked in.”

Even before she can find it in herself to be irritated– why would I make it obvious? This isn’t my first rodeo, Percy– her new customers have already crossed the length of the café and are currently waiting to be served. The girl seems warm enough– bright smile and sparkling brown eyes. Her companion is a little less welcoming, keeping an awkward but respectful distance from her, his broad shoulders rolled back and his spine erect as he watched Annabeth step back into the counter.

“Hey guys, what can I get for you?” She turns on her screen as the girl hums, scanning the menu.

“I’m going to get a large iced double shot caramel macchiato with five pumps of vanilla syrup. Is that okay?” Annabeth glances at Percy, who’s trying really hard to keep a straight face and then nods at her. “Extra whip, and some extra caramel drizzle on it.”

“Sure thing.” Annabeth checks the time on her screen. It’s only 10AM but Annabeth and Percy have already been on their feet for five hours. With that amount of caffeine and sugar for such a small body– it’s hard to imagine the girl shaking off the effects of her drink by the time night rolls around. “And you?”

“I’ll have a green tea. Regular, please.”

“Not a coffee person?” Annabeth asks as she rings them up. The guy shakes his head.

“Not really. Also a lemon muffin for me.” He adds, looking at his friend, who thinks about it for a moment before deciding against any food. Annabeth thinks she might be better for it. She’s grateful to have this job– if for any reason that it helps pay her bills– but she wouldn’t touch a single thing from their bakery with a ten foot pole.

“Cool. Percy?” Annabeth hands him the order. “Need me to help?”

“No, I’ve got it.” He waves her off and Annabeth turns back to the couple.

“Got any plans for the day?”

“Not really.” The girl looks up hopefully at the boy. “Just thought we’d come grab some coffee and work on an assignment together.”

“It’s a nice day out, isn’t it?” Annabeth’s met some dense boys before– hell, she’s worked alongside some dense boys before– so it doesn’t take much for her to catch onto the girl’s tragic plight. “Sure your assignment can wait. Go out, enjoy it. We’re not going to see the sun like this for a while.”

“What do you think, Jason?” The girl taps her card against the reader and pays for the entire thing. Annabeth notices how she isn’t thanked. “You know… Jones doesn’t expect anything from us for another two weeks.”

“I don’t know.” Jason glowers at Annabeth like she’s the single source of all his problems. It doesn’t bother her all that much– she’s had a lot worse from customers who’ve received the wrong flavouring in their coffee. “How about we work for a bit, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Sounds like a plan.” The girl doesn’t seem too beaten down by their compromise. She looks around the coffee shop and studies Annabeth for a moment before doing the same to Percy. “So what’s the vibe here supposed to be?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “You’re so… frills and lace in your hair and he’s so… ripped jeans and just-rolled-out-of bed. No uniform?”

“Cool boss.” Percy tells her as he carefully places Jason’s lemon muffin on their tray. He slides it across to them. “Thanks for coming down.”

They watch the two of them debate between two tables– Baby Shit and Makeout Corner– before settling on the less fortunately named one. Percy lets out a sympathetic oof.

“Baby Shit.” He sighs. “That’s a shame. They aren’t getting far.”

“You never know.” Annabeth counters. “Maybe they’ll graduate to Makeout Corner.”

“If she doesn’t die of diabetes first.” Percy snorts. “Cocaine would be a healthier option than what she’s drinking.”

“Stop.” Annabeth laughs. “She looks like she really likes him, you know.”

“First date?” Percy asks. “She paid for the entire thing. I’d say that’s pretty progressive.”

“Sure, in the 1800s.” Annabeth smacks him in the chest. “They don’t seem like they have much in common on the surface, do they?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s a military brat. She’s got a rich father. They’ll be miserable together.”

“You think?” Annabeth tilts her head as she watches them. “I don’t know. Sometimes it’s nice to be with someone different from you, right?”

“Why?” Percy grabs her by the hips and tugs her backwards into him. “Like frills and lace in your hair is different from ripped jeans and whatever she called me?”

“Yeah. Like that.” Annabeth presses a kiss to his jaw. “Exactly like that.”

“If that kid’s anything like me,” Percy mumbles into her ear. “She needs to make a move. And fast.”

“Why?” Annabeth asks. “Did I have a lot of competition?”

“Yeah. That girl from my art class was super into me. She’d have snapped me right up if you hadn’t swung in on time.” Percy says, dead serious. “I’m hot commodity, Annabeth.”

“Fine, then.” Annabeth lets him lift her off her feet and push her onto the counter. Technically, they aren’t allowed to do that, but the place is empty enough that their chances of getting caught are pretty low. Percy steps in between her legs and she locks her ankles around him. “Want to bet who can pull more people?”

“I’m not playing that game with you.” Percy throws his head back when he laughs. “You kidding me? You’d wipe the floor with me.”

“Glad we’ve established that.” Annabeth smirks and Percy leans in for a quick peck on the lips. “Hey. None of that cute stuff. Cindy finds out we’re making out on the clock– we’re both fired.”

Percy presses his forehead against hers. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

[violetsoju]

date night

miya atsumu · fluff · 1.6k words

summary: atsumu just can't catch a break on his first date

a/n: for my dearest jin ♡ ikyk it's no secret that im your secret santa (it still cracks me up thinking how you spoiled yourself HAHA) but here's your christmas present!! tysm for being such a lovely soul and i hope you enjoy this ♡♡♡

This isn’t what Atsumu planned. At all.

Okay, to be fair, it was going according to plan at first. He made a reservation at the place Sakusa recommended, bought a small bouquet of flowers as Hinata suggested, and spent half an hour reciting the greeting Bokuto taught him again and again while waiting at the train station.

The greeting was simple. “You’re here, my lady.” Bokuto bowed slightly, one hand extended forward with the other folded behind his back. “Remember to hold just the fingers! That’s the most important part.”

Something inside Atsumu screamed that it was too cheesy and sappy, that Bokuto had probably spent too much time reading whatever period romance novel collection Akaashi or his older sisters owned. But what could possibly go wrong? If it worked well in the olden days, and still make people swoon over it in the present, it would worth be giving a shot, right?

So after the millionth time of practicing the cringe worthy greeting and attracting a couple of confused looks on the side, Atsumu was ready to carry out his assignment.

But that went all down the drain when he saw you. The way your lips curved up when you found him among the sea of people, the way your eyes lit up when they met his.

A small shy “Hey” was all he could muster out from his short-circuited brain.

You had to ask him where you both were heading to before he finally snapped out of his daze. “Right, yeah. Uhm, here, let me bring you there.”

Why did he clasp both of his hands behind his back like an old man instead of holding yours?

It must be the cold snowy weather that froze his reflexes. By the time he offered to take your long coat, you already had it folded neatly in your hands. Heck, was it him being half a beat slower or was it you practicing speed walking recently? Because why were you warming up the seat before he could even pull the chair out for you?

Never mind. That was just for starters.

“Would you like garbage salad?” He asks, flipping through the menu.

“What?” You ask.

“Garbage salad.” He repeats, wondering why the bewildered look on your face. Having some greens on the side would be good, wouldn’t it? Fibre is an important part in diets after all.

Your eyes look over to his menu. “You mean cabbage salad.”

He nods, oblivious of the slip of his tongue. “Yeah. Would you like some?”

“Cabbage salad sounds nice, but I think I would pass on garbage salad.”

Oh.

Someone please shred him into shreds of cabbage.

Maybe he should change his name to Garbage Miya instead.

One important lesson he learned from the night was: When in doubt of what to order, do not (he repeats, do not) go with the recommendations or top-star rating dishes on menus. It’s a big fat scam.

“What are you laughing at?”

Your laughter can’t seem to end, and it’s infectious, because he finds himself laughing together with you despite not knowing what tickled the laughing bug in you.

“Nothing, Miya.” You finally take a breather between the breathless laughing session.

Atsumu doesn’t buy in your answer. “I don’t think so.”

“Really, Miya. It’s nothing.” You insist, waving off his knowing look.

“Just so you know, there’s no presents for those on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Just so you know too, I’m an angel to Santa. Always has been.”

Not only to Santa, to Atsumu too. Since day one.

The both of you know he won’t let it go unless you break it down to him.

“Fine. Do me a favour and I’ll let you know.” You finally say.

“Anything for ya.” He really means it. With all his heart.

There’s a mischievous glint in your eyes as you fish your phone from your bag. “Give me your widest smile. Like you’re in a toothpaste commercial.”

He wonders if his smile is perfectly symmetrical and dazzling, not flashed awkwardly like some friends of his on the other side of the net.

“Come on, let me in this secret of yours now.” He pouts even more as you erupt into yet another round of laughter.

Okay, maybe he would rather have the sides of his lips lifted at a gravity defying awkward angle rather than this.

He would also most definitely lose that toothpaste commercial if there was one. Even his dentist would abandon him without batting an eye, shaking their head in disapproval. “Disgrace, Miya. What a disgrace.” They would lament.

Atsumu’s smile is all wide and toothy, million-seller ambassador approved. But the black stains splattered across his teeth would only work during Halloween, not on a first date.

If he’s already shredded cabbage, then someone please dig a hole and bury him deep in the soil to compost like fertiliser.

So again, one out of the million lessons of the night: Do not, he repeats again, do not go with the recommendations or top-star rating dishes on the menu. Especially if it’s squid ink pasta.

Guess who’s searching up how to cut a squid’s ink sac the first thing they get home.

“Come on, Miya. It’s not that bad!” You zoom into anywhere else but his ink-stained teeth, earning more howls of pain from the man seated opposite you.

“This is even worse than the time I had seaweed stuck all over my teeth at ‘Samu’s.” Atsumu groans. His fingers were just millimetres away from deleting the cursed picture, right before you took hold of your phone back.

Even the fifth cup of lemon water can’t fully wash off the goddamn stains on his teeth. He now understands why Sakusa brings a toothbrush and toothpaste set everywhere.

“This is way cuter than that though.”

“What?”

“I think you’re cute like this.”

Atsumu hasn’t had a sip of alcohol the whole day today. Maybe this lemon water he’s been dunking is actually some lemon tonic infused with some gin or vodka, messing up his system like connecting his ears to his butt. But the faint blush dotting your cheeks is unmistakable even under the dim lights.

“You do?” He reconfirms.

The way you’re clumsily shoving twirls of black pasta into your mouth affirms his thoughts. “Yeah.” You mumble incoherently.

“Well, I think you’re cute like this too.”

It takes an explosive coughing fit to supress the butterflies taking flight from your stomach.

And lots of willpower not to leap across the table to destroy the phone in his hands as the shutter goes off.

No body parts were hurt or lost during the dinner. Both parties were perfectly intact by the end of the dinner.

Which explains how the both of you are now back at the train station to return home in one piece. It’s around 9p.m. The Christmas decorations are at its peak, dazzling and lighting up the night sky in its bright festive colours. How romantic it would be to take a stroll under the twinkling lights and soft snow, maybe even finding a mistletoe somewhere.

But it’s a Thursday night, which means practice for him tomorrow and work for you the next day.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t enjoy the decorations more.” Atsumu apologises, lightly kicking the concrete pavement absentmindedly in disappointment.

“It’s alright. You could always come and enjoy it with your teammates next time!” The flowers in your hands are still blooming radiantly, light fragrance lingering in the air. If his heart were flowers right now, they would be dried and withered.

So this is the first and last date, he guesses.

He should say something more if this is his last chance. Come on, ‘Tsumu. Think, think, think.

“Hey, I-”

“Thank you for the night, Miya. I had fun.”

“You don’t have to lie, you know.”

“No, I really mean it! I enjoyed myself lots tonight.”

Then can I see you again soon?

His words are buried with the rumbling noise of the train arriving at the station, brakes screeching to a halt. The train doors open, swallowing the next small wave of humans into its belly. “Thanks for sending me off. Good night, Miya.” You bid, waving him a small goodbye.

He waves in small too. “Good night. Text me when you get back home.”

He takes your smile as a yes.

“Oh, one more thing!” He shouts right before you step foot into the carriage. “Delete that picture, will you? Pretty please?”

You chuckle at his request and pleading eyes. “After you, Miya.”

That picture is going to be his potential bribe to a second date.

Atsumu remains rooted to the ground till the railway track is dark once again, your train out of sight. There’re only a few people left on the platform, and he wishes he could just jump onto the railway tracks to get to his platform right opposite instead of climbing the dreadful stairs. It’s just a 15-minute train ride back home, but tonight it feels like an hour, or even an eternity.

The first thing he does when he gets back home is slump on his bed like a slab of dead meat, face down. The flood of incoming messages from a certain group chat that’s blowing up his phone can wait. He’ll deal with that later. Along with how to demolish a certain sac of dear squids.

Right now, all he needs is a warm shower to wash away his blues.

And sink into a deep, deep sleep, sprinkling magical sand on his sunken heart.

Well actually, maybe he won’t be sleeping tonight.

And squids may stand a chance of protecting their sacs.

[10:10p.m.]

Hey, I got back home safely! Thanks for the night.

[10:11p.m.]

Would you like to see the lights together on Christmas eve?

[mjolnir-steve]

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair. 

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too. 

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot. 

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you. 

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings. 

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night. 

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work. 

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.” 

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder. 

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d. 

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?” 

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides. 

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

[tchallasbabymama]

Don't Forget About Us

Hello, my lovelies. Here’s my contribution to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes smut challenge (the prompt is in bold!) Let’s see what Erik’s up to now, shall we?

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots. Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me, so make sure to let me know what you think! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my writing. Enjoy😘

Word count: 5,595

CW: smut...duh.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

Kayla sighed internally at the question and took a sip of her Pinot Grigio. She hated first dates with a burning passion, but unfortunately, that was the only way to find a man around here. She went through the motions of politely answering his questions, barely asking any of her own. She didn’t care. Even just fifteen minutes in, Kayla could tell he didn’t excite her, and she lamented the waste of a good outfit as she listened to him drone on about his life. Every now and then, he’d stop and ask a question about her, but she could tell he was only asking so he could talk more about himself.

How many siblings do you have?

What’s your sign?

Why did your last relationship end?

Her mind traveled to her ex-boyfriend, Erik Stevens. They had spent six blissful years together, and Kayla thought he was the one. She wanted them to get married and start a family, and she thought he did, too, but every time she brought it up, he’d find some excuse to change the subject. At thirty years old, Kayla wasn’t getting any younger, so she grew tired of his avoidance and eventually cut him loose. She needed more out of life, but the guy currently sitting across from her certainly wasn’t it.

“We wanted different things,” she answered vaguely and took another sip. It would be a long night with what’s-his-name. David? Devon? Whatever. At least he had money and took her to a nice restaurant.

Darryl took the opportunity to bore her with the details of his job, which Kayla already knew. He was a colleague of her best friend, Carina’s husband. They worked at the same law firm, and Carina decided to hook them up after tiring of hearing Kayla complain about dating apps. As much as Kayla hated Tinder, she would’ve much rather been at home on her couch swiping left on the cesspool of single men Oakland had to offer. Every few dozen swipes or so, she’d find a cutie, but his bio would be abysmal, or his conversation skills would fall flat.

Despite the fact that their relationship just couldn’t make it, Kayla still thought of Erik as the gold standard. Just thinking about his dimples and his struggle beard made her smile dreamily. His big, strong arms would wrap around her and hold her tight at night, and she’d trace her fingers over the intentionally placed keloid scars that held his darkest secrets. She missed retwisting his locs and the way he always smelled like sandalwood and warm vanilla. Kayla didn’t want to admit it, but she still loved him. No man could compare to her Erik.

“Hello? Kayla?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that last part?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What’s got you so distracted, babygirl?”

Kayla fought the bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t his babygirl. It didn’t even sound right coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the thinness of his lips. They weren’t “white man” thin, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the juicy pussy pleasers she had grown accustomed to.

“Nothing, just thought I saw somebody I know. You were saying?”

“Just that you look beautiful tonight,” Damon attempted to flirt with her.

Kayla wanted to roll her eyes but thanked him instead and smiled politely again. Of course she looked beautiful; she had pulled out all the stops for what she had hoped would be a good night out. Kayla had squeezed her thickness into a lavender satin dress. The way the dress’s skirt cinched on the side kept it snug around her plush waist, but the high slit that traveled up her thigh was the main attraction. The strappy silver heels on her feet showed off her matching pedicure that contrasted beautifully with her glistening brown skin, and her makeup was flawless. Her outerwear for the night, a cropped fur jacket that had found its way to the coat check when they arrived, was the icing on the cake. Her outfit deserved the appreciation, just not from Deshawn.

The waiter saved her from having to focus on her date when she brought out the food they had ordered. Since Kayla knew Derek had money, she had ordered the whole lobster, and she fought her mouth from drooling too much as the waiter set it down in front of her. It laid on a bed of forbidden rice, and the side of roasted brussels sprouts and cremini mushrooms looked heavenly. The ramekin of drawn butter off to the side tempted her as it sat next to the minuscule seafood fork. She may not enjoy her company for the evening, but Kayla damn sure was going to enjoy her meal.

“Looks good,” Dominic called from the other side of the table, breaking Kayla from her trance as he cut into his wagyu beef.

“Sure does.” Kayla wasted no time before digging into her meal. Not only was it the perfect excuse to avoid conversation, but it was perfect, period.

A slight chill permeated the air as the door swung open and the crisp January air entered the small restaurant. Kayla shivered as she complained internally about being forced to sit near the door, but that shiver intensified as she heard a voice. His voice.

“Reservation for Stevens, please.”

Kayla stilled.

“Of course. Right this way, sir,” the maitre d’ responded, and Kayla heard three sets of footsteps coming her way.

--------

“Babe, let’s go!”

“Yell at me one more time, woman,” Erik warned as he came around the corner into the living room, fastening his watch.

“I swear, you take more time getting ready than I do.”

“Whatever, Mo. You ready?”

“Nigga, I been ready!”

Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. It would be a rough night, and things were already starting off on a bad foot. He and Monique had been seeing each other for the better part of a year, and he’d finally reached his limit. She was overbearing, rude, and just after him for his money, but he hated being alone, so he put up with her bullshit. His cousin, T’Challa, had tried to hook him up with a few ladies back in Wakanda when he went to visit after his breakup, but nothing stuck. Almost immediately after coming back to the states, Erik met Monique at a charity event for the Outreach Center. She had the singing voice of an angel and had been booked as the entertainment for the evening. Erik was drawn to her like a sailor to a siren, and she immediately sank her teeth into him. Past her vocal talents, Monique wasn’t really anything special. Her personality left a lot to be desired, she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and she just wasn’t her.

The moment Kayla ended their relationship a year ago, Erik’s whole world shattered. He had lived a life full of pain and loss, but Kayla had been his lifeline. She pulled him out of the dark and made him revel in the sunshine. Hell, she was the sunshine, but now he had settled for a UV lamp at best. Kayla had wanted a life that Erik was too scared to give her, but that fear became his downfall. He still missed her most nights. He was lonely, and Monique was there to keep him company, but that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Erik craved a connection that Monique just couldn’t provide. So he decided he had to break it off and figured that doing so in a public place would probably be best. She had a tendency to throw things when she got angry.

The car ride to Chez Martine was tense. Monique had been angry all day because Erik had taken back his credit card even though she wanted to buy a new dress for their date. Her lousy mood almost made him dump her back at his condo, but Erik kept a cool head and stayed focused on the plan. He ignored the way Monique complained the entire time she got ready, reluctantly putting on a dress he had seen her wear before. It didn’t matter to him; he knew what the night held.

When they walked into the restaurant, Erik’s heart dropped into his stomach. He’d recognize that shoulder blade tattoo anywhere. She had cut off all her hair and lost a few pounds, but he knew for sure that he was looking at Kayla. His Kayla. He forced himself to look straight ahead as they passed her table and prayed that the maitre d’ didn’t sit them where she could see him. Unfortunately, he had no such luck because the only open table for two was directly within her line of sight. He prayed again that Monique would sit on the far side of the table, but Bast ignored his pleas once more. He had to sit facing her, and as soon as he got comfortable in his chair, her gaze slyly trailed over to him. They locked eyes across the room, and Erik’s heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her all those months ago, but who the fuck was that sitting across from her?

“What are you looking at?” Monique’s abrasive voice cut through his eardrums.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I know, that’s all.”

She cut her eyes at him and turned around to look as he buried his face in the menu.

“Quit being nosy,” he complained.

“I just wanna see who’s got your attention, that’s all.” Monique turned back around with a sour look on her face. “It’s probably that fat girl with her cleavage all out.”

“Mo, just look at the fucking menu and act like you got some sense.”

“Fine.”

Monique pouted until the waiter showed up, but she plastered a fake smile on her face as he took their order. As usual, she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it bothered him to no end that she was hellbent on spending all of his money. Of course, he had plenty, but she felt entitled to it. Kayla never cared about him being rich. Hell, when they got together, she didn’t even know he was a prince, but he loved to spoil her nonetheless. He loved the look on her face when he’d buy her things or take her on the expensive trips that she more than deserved. Kayla appreciated everything he did for her with all her heart, but she’d say the same thing every time.

“Thank you, baby, but you’re all I need.”

Erik smiled fondly at the memory of when he bought her a diamond tennis bracelet from Wakanda for their second anniversary. She was so excited to have diamonds that weren’t marred by exploited labor that she damn near dropped the box when she saw what was inside. It had been a rough year for them, what with him disappearing for a couple of months to seize the Wakandan throne and all. She certainly had plenty of colorful words for him when he came back. He’ll never forget the look on her face when he showed up at her door. He had brought T’Challa for backup just in case, but she looked right past the king as tears welled up in her eyes at seeing her Erik, alive and well.

Erik’s eyes started to get misty as he thought about the way she kissed him with so much emotion...then slapped him across the face for leaving. His gaze wandered back over to Kayla and he noticed the light bounce off of something on her arm. She was wearing the bracelet.

As if she felt his glare, Kayla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, so he averted his eyes back to Monique, who had caught him staring again.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” she asked sarcastically, making him roll his eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

--------

Erik Stevens. Here, of all places. He just had to be here.

Kayla noticed that he didn’t seem to be enjoying his modelesque date’s company any more than she was enjoying Darwin’s, and the pang of jealousy she felt at seeing him with another woman went away. She knew she had no right to feel any kind of way about it, especially since she was the one that broke things off. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

Dylan was too wrapped up in his steak to notice her wandering eye, but it seemed that Erik’s food was as uninteresting as the woman across from him. Kayla watched as he half-heartedly pushed it around his plate, but he certainly kept his favorite whiskey coming. She wanted to chuckle but didn’t want Daniel to think he had anything to do with her levity. They were both drowning their dissatisfactions in their alcohols of choice, and Kayla got a phantom taste of Uncle Nearest 1856 on her lips as she watched him take a sip. When he set the glass down and licked his lips, Kayla felt flush. She missed those lips…

“So, how about dessert?” Damien asked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I hear their creme brulee is amazing.”

“Uh, sure, why not?”

“You know,” he began as he leaned in and reached for her hands. She allowed him to take them, but the softness of his hands disgusted her. No callouses, no roughness, not even a firm grip. “I’ve had a great night. I’d love to see you again.”

Kayla chuckled nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you doing next-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

A shrill voice pierced the air as Erik’s date bolted up from her seat. Desmond, and the whole restaurant, turned around to see what was going on, and Kayla took the opportunity to remove her hands from his.

“Keep your voice down,” Erik sneered through his teeth. “We’re in public.”

“So?! You bring me out here just to dump me? To dump this?!” she gestured at her slim figure, and he rolled his eyes.

“You ain’t even all that,” he waved her off. He was tired of playing nice, and Kayla could see the exasperation written all over his face.

“Excuse me, miss-” the waiter attempted to calm her down, but the crazed woman cut him off.

“Stay out of this!”

“I’m so sorry,” Erik mouthed to the poor man who would absolutely be getting a monstrous tip later.

“Oh, you’re sorry for him, but not for me?”

“Mo, just sit down. We can finish our meal like adults-”

“Fuck you, Erik.” She threw her dirty martini at him, soaking the front of his all-black ensemble.

Kayla could damn near see the steam coming out of his ears as his apparent ex stormed out of the restaurant. Erik locked eyes with her across the room, and when he saw the concern written all over her face, his softened.

“Whew, poor fella,” Dexter commented as he turned back around. “Where was I? Oh-”

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” Kayla interrupted him as their waiter walked by.

“Right down there.” She pointed at a set of stairs off to the side, and Kayla thanked her as she slid out of her seat.

“I’ll be back, Darius.”

“It’s Denzel.” He deflated.

“Fuck,” she froze. She had been sure it was Darius. “Still, I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” he responded, obviously upset by her slip-up.

Kayla hurried off down the stairs and leaned against the wall as she waited for either of the single-use restrooms to open up. She took a deep breath and opened her clutch, reaching in to pull out her phone with a shaky hand and typing in his number. It was one of the few she had memorized, just in case.

“You ok?”

Her thumb hovered over the send button, but she couldn’t press it. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest at the thought of starting a conversation with him, but something within her said that she should. It would be weird not to say anything after all that, right?

“Hey-”

“Shit!” Kayla dropped her phone when his silky baritone graced her ears.

“My fault, ma.” Erik leaned over and picked the phone off the floor, checking it for cracks. He saw she had typed a message out to him and smirked before handing it back to her.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem. And, yeah, I’m ok.”

“Huh?”

Erik pointed at her phone screen.

“Oh! Right. Um, well, that’s good to hear.” Kayla attempted to push her hair behind her ear out of habit, forgetting she had just cut it all off a week ago.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ok? You don’t seem to into ole dude out there.”

Kayla sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, him.”

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik laughed, and she slapped his arm. That slight contact was enough to spark a flame in them both, and Erik’s face turned serious. “For real, though, not going well?”

“Better than you, it seems,” she quipped as she eyed his wet shirt. That was a bad idea because his first three buttons were undone, and she caught a peek of the raised scars that she missed so much. And that broad chest, and the chain with his father’s ring that he always wore. He’d let her wear it from time to time, and she always felt like it was such an honor. He trusted her enough to let her wear it. He loved her enough to-

Kayla pried her eyes away and made yet another mistake: she looked up at him. Those eyes still looked like sweet, sweet molasses, and even though his locs were braided back, she could tell he was letting them grow out. She momentarily wondered who was retwisting them nowadays, but her train of thought was cut short by the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Kayla’s mind went blank as she inhaled slowly.

“Heh, yeah. That was...that was pretty embarrassing. Not even gonna lie.” Erik looked away shyly, unable to hold her gaze.

“I guess you’ll need to find a new date spot, huh?”

“Nah, I think I’m good on dating for a while.”

“Same,” Kayla sighed. “Dating sucks.”

“Yeah…”

One of the bathroom doors unlocked, and a middle-aged white man stepped out and passed them on the way up the stairs.

“Well, I should-”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Kayla walked towards the bathroom, but before she could reach the door, she felt a light tug on her wrist. His touch still gave her goosebumps, and he noticed her raised skin as she turned to face him.

“I just, uh...it was nice seeing you, Kay-kay.” Erik smiled at her, and she nearly melted. She missed when he called her that, too. “You look good.”

“Thanks, E.” She smiled back. “So do you.”

He let her go, and Kayla disappeared into the bathroom. When she closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath to center herself. After all these months, Erik still took her breath away. He clouded her senses and scrambled her mind. Even as she took care of business, her brain replayed their short interaction on a loop.

Kayla locked eyes with her reflection as she dried her hands. How could she go back up there to- what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Da- Denzel. That’s it, Denzel. How could she go back up there to his mediocre company when the man she still loved had made her feel so alive with just one touch. That was the magic of Erik, his magnetism. When they were together, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even when she wanted to slap him across his beautiful face. Those were some of the best times, though. If she was angry at him, he knew exactly what to do to calm her down. To put her in her place. To remind her-

Kayla’s daydreaming was cut short by a knock at the door.

“Occupied!”

It came again.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

She reached for another paper towel to dab off the sweat that had started to pool on her skin at the thought of Erik’s dominance when the door opened.

“What the f- Erik?!”

He pushed inside the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You need to start locking doors, Kay.”

“I- what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he spoke as he moved closer to her.

“Here?!”

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled.

Kayla rolled her eyes and tried to push past him.

“Now is not the time or place-”

“When is?” he blocked her exit, and she crossed her arms in defeat, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned against the sink. “Look, I just need to say something real quick.”

“Fine,” Kayla sighed and gestured for him to continue. She knew there was no use fighting him. She wasn’t leaving that bathroom until he was good and ready.

“Kay,” his voice softened, and she looked away only to have her face pulled back in his direction. “Kay-kay, look at me.”

She made the mistake of doing just that, getting lost in his eyes again.

“I miss you,” Erik murmured.

“Erik-”

“Look, I know, ok? I know. And I’m sorry, Kay. I really am- no, look at me. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you...but I miss you, girl.”

Kayla’s eyes welled up with tears that she tried her hardest to blink away, but one had the nerve to fall. Erik wiped it away, and the next one, and the next one. A sob wracked Kayla’s body, and he wrapped his arms around her body.

“Don’t cry, babygirl. I know you worked hard on your makeup.”

Kayla laughed through her tears, but the emotions washed back over her, and she buried her face into his chest. It was already soaked with gin, so what harm would a few tears do?

He held her and rocked her softly from side to side as she cried, and after a couple of minutes, she found the will to look up at him again. His cheeks were wet, so she reached up and swiped her thumbs over them as she held his face in her small hands. He nuzzled into them and kissed her wrists.

“I miss you, too, E,” she croaked.

“I know, babygirl.”

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes as his soft lips caressed her skin. They stayed intertwined for who knows how long until Erik felt Kayla begin to pull back. He looked down at her, and the two of them locked eyes. Before they knew it, their lips had met in the middle in a passionate embrace. They got lost in each other for a moment until common sense returned to Kayla, and she pushed him off.

“We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because what, Kay?” Erik’s voice rumbled as he closed what little gap was between their bodies. He left soft kisses on her temples before working down to her cheeks, then her jawline, and eventually the column of her neck. She let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed the crook of her neck but pushed him back again before he could continue any further.

“Erik, I...I still love you, and-”

He attacked her lips with his, hands feverishly gripping her waist as he pushed her further into the sink. She had nowhere to go, and she was ok with that.

“I...love you...too...babygirl,” he whispered between kisses.

Kayla’s mind went blank as he lifted her up on the counter and pressed himself between her legs. She could feel him, all of him, and damn did she miss that monster between his legs.

“Erik,” she moaned as he nipped at her earlobe. He still knew how to play her body like a violin.

“Mmm, say it again.”

“Erik!” she squeaked as she felt his strong hands grip her thighs.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she flooded her already wet panties.

“Baby-”

He connected his forehead to hers and stared deep into her eyes. “You miss me?”

“Mhm,” Kayla nodded with her lip between her teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. I think about you all the time. Every day,” he pecked her lips, “every night. I miss everything about you, Kay-kay. Your off-key singing, your horrible cooking-”

“Shut up,” Kayla giggled as his hands traveled up her dress.

“Your body…fuck I miss this body. I miss how you smell, how you taste...how that tight little pussy feels wrapped around my dick.”

Kayla widened her legs for him as his fingers found their way to the seat of her panties, stroking up and down her slit. Erik kissed his way back down her face and over to her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself? Because I do. You’re all I see when I stroke my dick...wishing it was your hand...your lips...this fucking pussy.”

Erik pushed her panties to the side, and his nimble fingers circled her clit. Kayla let out a small moan that was music to his ears, making fingers move faster and her breath grow shallower with each rotation.

“Answer me.”

“Mhm.”

“Come on, babygirl, you can do better than that. You think about me when you play in your pussy? This pussy right here?” he asked as he slapped her vulva, her wetness sticking to his hand.

“Y-yes, baby-”

“Uh-uh, you know who I am. Say it,” Erik commanded as he snuck three fingers inside her wetness, making her moan loudly in his ear. “Shhh, you gotta be quiet, babygirl. You don’t want people out there knowing how much of a slut you are, right?”

Kayla shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I asked you a question, Kayla,” he reminded her. His gruff voice made her weak, and the fingers that were steadily speeding up inside her certainly didn’t help. “Answer me. Who am I, babygirl?”

Kayla tried to hold out as much as she could. She didn’t want to say it, too proud to give in, but the way he was currently stretching out her pussy and curling his fingers inside her made her cling to his shoulders. The bastard knew what he was doing, and she didn’t want to let him win. But then, he played dirty and bit down on her neck. She cried out, and when he pulled back to look at her, the ferocity in his eyes drove her up the wall.

“I said, who the fuck am I, Kayla?” Erik growled. His hand sped up, making her weak with every thrust. She couldn’t hold it anymore and came undone around him, her mouth betraying her as his name fell from her lips.

“Daddy!” she gasped as her pussy spasmed, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn right I am,” he kissed her lips, “now gimme that pussy. Daddy missed his pussy.”

Kayla heard a rip and felt the cool air between her legs as he tore through her panties to get to her treasure trove. She reached down between them and grabbed his clothed erection in her hand, making him groan as he bit down on his luscious bottom lip. She undid his belt buckle and slowly unzipped his pants before reaching in and pulling out his throbbing dick.

The longing in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, so he pushed her legs back and tapped his head on her clit.

“You want daddy’s dick in you?”

“Mhm,” she whimpered.

“Good.”

He pushed in and groaned at the feeling of her pussy walls gripping him as he sheathed himself inside her.

“Fuck, you feel like home.”

Kayla moaned into his neck in response and wound her hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he stroked into her slow and deep. She couldn’t form words. He felt so damn good inside her that Kayla’s brain had short-circuited. Erik’s dick hit spots that she could never find herself no matter how hard she tried. Even in her dreams, he drove her body wild. She had spent the last year trying to find somebody, anybody who could make her feel that way, but nobody could compare to Erik Stevens.

Erik and Kayla panted heavily into each others’ mouths as he made love to her body, and as soon as Kayla started to tense up, his thrusts grew harder.

“I-I-”

“I know, babygirl. Daddy feels it,” he groaned as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Cum on my dick like a good girl.”

His words sent Kayla into overdrive, and her body shook as she spilled over him. Her spasming walls hugged him tight, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, begging him with her eyes.

“You feel amazing,” she moaned.

“Mhm. I know them other niggas wasn’t hitting it like this. I just know it. Look at you, cumming all over daddy’s dick. Look at it!” He grabbed her chin and made her look down at her throbbing pussy as his dick slid in and out of her.

“We look so good, daddy!”

Erik slammed into her, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He gave her his all over and over, rocking the countertop in the process.

“We’ll look even better if you let me cum in this pussy. Mix my cum with yours-”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” He chuckled. “You want it that bad, huh? Nasty ass, in here getting fucked while that bum ass nigga’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Mmm, I want it.”

“Want what, babygirl?” Erik teased as he brought his thumb to her clit, strumming it slowly as he thrust into her.

“You. I want you to cum deep in me.”

“Shit,” Erik groaned. “You want it deep in there?”

“Mhm. Put it where it belongs, daddy.” Kayla licked up the side of his neck, making his knees buckle. “Cum in your pussy.”

Erik lost all sense of control and pounded into her tight pussy, somehow getting even deeper in preparation for his release. Kayla held on tight as she felt him begin to spasm inside her, and she released around him again as his deep moans tickled her ear. Erik thrust extra deep and held his dick in place as he emptied his balls into her warmth, whimpering lightly as she rubbed his back to soothe him and bring him back down.

“I missed you, babygirl.”

“I missed you, too, daddy.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until their breathing slowed. Erik was the first to move, slowly pulling himself out of Kayla as she whined at the loss of contact. He kissed all over her face before planting a slow, sweet kiss on her lips.

“I can’t let you go again, Kay-kay,” his voice cracked as tears threatened to fall from his eyes again.

Kayla pulled him back in and kissed him so deeply that she nearly lost herself in him again, but he pulled away and looked her in her eyes.

“I’m serious, girl. I’ll do anything. I’ll marry you, give you as many big-headed babies as you want. Just, please, Kay-” she cut him off with another kiss to shut him up.

“We should go back to my place and talk,” she whispered, and Erik’s face lit up. Something about the way she said it, the way she kissed him, the way her body still responded to his...it gave him hope. Kayla smiled at him and pecked his lips once more before hopping off of the sink. He had to catch her because her legs were wobbly, and she stumbled a little in her heels.

“You aight?” he laughed.

“No, nigga,” she slapped his chest, and the two of them got caught in a laughing fit. They had really just fucked in the bathroom at Chez Martine. Kayla was on cloud nine until a thought occurred to her, and her face fell flat. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Erik’s face turned serious, and his eyes scanned over her body, looking for whatever the problem was.

Kayla started giggling again, and he looked confused.

“What is it?” he asked, barely able to keep a straight face. Her laugh was always so infectious…

“Demetrius.”

“Who?!”

“My date.”

“Girl, don’t worry about him. He probably thinks you dipped out anyway.”

Kayla shrugged and fixed her dress as Erik stuffed his shirt back in his pants. They checked their reflections in the mirror, and Kayla was pleasantly surprised that her makeup was still intact thanks to that setting spray she had splurged on the other day.

“Ready?” Erik asked as he admired her beauty. Kayla nodded, and he unlocked the door, opening it to find Duncan leaning against the wall with a sour look on his face. Kayla’s eyes blew wide as she tried to figure out what to say to her date for the evening.

“Heyyy, um…”

“Denzel,” he seethed.

“Yeah, sorry. So, um, we’re-”

“Sorry, bruh,” Erik clapped him on the shoulder, “but we heading out. Bathroom’s all yours, though.”

Erik pulled Kayla along, and she sent Deion an apologetic glance before following Erik up the stairs. It seemed the whole restaurant knew what had occurred, but neither one of them cared. They were just happy to be around each other again. It had been entirely too long.

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me,@toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @blacklytical, @uzumaki-rebellion, @honeyandpeaches, @cecereads209, @wakandama2,

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

Don’t Go Baking My Heart || Seokjin

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Summary: You fall in love with Kim Seokjin’s bakery after wandering into it to take advantage of the post-Valentine’s Day discount on the chocolates. Maybe it’s the owner’s bad jokes, maybe it’s the other regulars, maybe it’s the delicious pastries. Or maybe there’s something more that keeps you coming back to that shop.

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 14.7k

Genre: Strangers (to Friends) to Lovers, Bakery AU, tooth-rotting Fluff, some smut

Warnings & Tags: mentions of insecurities and of former relationships, smut (vaginal sex, oral [male receiving], fingering), Jin makes Bad Jokes, Valentine’s Day themed

A/N: Soooo this was supposed to come out for Valentine’s Day, but it wasn’t ready then, so you guys get it now instead! I’m bad with puns so I definitely had to look online for those used in this oops. Finally, I’d like to give a big thank you to the amazing @elidebrey​ who actually worked in a bakery shop and told me all about (I’m sorry you guys ran out of milk all the time). She’s an amazing writer and you should check her out if you like the Batfam! Hope you’ll enjoy this one-shot!

February 15th

You first walk into Kim Seokjin’s bakery the day after Valentine’s Day. Your eye was caught by the chocolates and cakes you noticed on sale from the outside, and also the name of the place, The Rolling Scones, which is either genius or terrible, you can’t pick. The door bell chimes happily, first when you push the door open and then when it closes behind you.

The place is empty. There’s no one behind the counter, and you find yourself hesitating there for a second, both arms behind your back like a shy schoolgirl — which you once were, but that was a while ago now. Natural light, the cold sun of February, is falling through the bay windows, and the place is cute, clearly decorated with love and care. It makes you feel just a little warmer inside.

Since no one seems to be showing up, you take your time to look at the display. You’ve spent the past week crying over the end of your two year relationship, and you’re desperately craving something sweet and sugary to fill the hole in your heart and in your life. Post Valentine’s Day discount is definitely the best way to do that.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you knew this relationship was never going to be your forever. It was just a nice and comfortable situation to be in, and you expected you and him to part ways at some point.

You just didn’t particularly expect it to be now.

“Jungkook!” a strong voice shouts from the back of the shop, startling you. It’s quickly followed by a curse, and then a man walks in, glancing back with a worried expression, tying an apron around his waist and adjusting a small black hat on his head. You notice the ‘Jungkook’ tag on his apron, and it makes you soften in sympathy. The second his eyes fall on you, he recomposes himself, and shoots you a smile that’s professional, though the nervousness doesn’t quite disappear. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just looking,” you say, and he leans forward, probably straining to hear. Your voice has always had that weird tendency to become inaudible when you’re talking to strangers. “You don’t have anything with strawberries, do you?”

“I’m afraid everything we had went yesterday,” he says with a sympathetic frown.

“Oh, right,” you mumble. You’re disappointed to a stupid degree, and you know it’s because your emotions have been running wild recently, to the point where any small contrariety threatens to make you cry. Fortunately, you don’t, right now. That would be horribly embarrassing. “Um, I guess I’ll take that box and, uh, the éclair, please, then.”

“Of course!”

His movements are quick and precise as he takes it out, and you could be mistaken, but you think he’s deliberately not looking at you. You’re not particularly blaming him for it, though, because you’re doing the exact same thing.

“Anything else?” he asks once he’s done, and you shake your head, avoiding eye contact. “For here or to go? We’re also a café,” he elaborates when you give him a surprised — and slightly panicked — glance.

“Oh. To go, please,” you say, not so much because you actually want to, and much more because you’re bad at changing your plans when you had already made your decision.

Except… You eye the bakery. It’s not like you have anyone to come back to, and you don’t particularly want to be back at your apartment to wallow alone. You might even get some things done while you’re here.

“Um, actually, would you mind if I…?” The question dies on your lips. You’re already feeling too embarrassed to continue, but he looks up, eyes wide, and nods.

“No, no, please take a seat! Do you want something to drink as well?”

“That— That would be nice, actually.”

“Alright, just give me a second and I’ll bring you our, er, menu.”

It’s not a menu, it’s a list of drinks the owner printed and coated with plastic, and insists on calling a menu, but he isn’t going to tell you that.

You pick a table that faces the door, and after choosing and ordering your tea, pull out your computer. It’s not that the things you have to do can’t wait, but you don’t like sitting alone doing nothing. The shop is desperately empty, and part of you is terrified by the idea that Jungkook could come over to talk to you. That would probably end up not being completely unpleasant, but you’re not sure you can handle that much interaction with other human beings right now.

While scrolling through the text you are currently working on editing, you pick a chocolate out of the box to eat it and hold back a satisfied moan at the taste. The fact that it’s so good makes you feel a little more upset that you’ve never been in a relationship for Valentine’s Day and therefore have never been given anything like that.

It’s always been bad luck really, because you’ve been in a few relationships, but even with your last boyfriend, the two of you were on a break in February. The others never made it longer than a few months, and never fell at the right time. It’s not even like you want to celebrate Valentine’s Day, you do think it’s mostly a commercial holiday, and you definitely don’t want any expensive gift, but you’d be happy to have someone by your side to make fun of other couples with. Someone to love you, and someone to love.

God, you want to be in love so bad. For a few months, you thought you had it with your ex, and maybe you did, for a moment, but it had slipped from your fingers without you managing to do anything about it, leaving you sad and empty. You want to feel everything the movies and books promised, the butterflies in the stomach, the rush in the beat of your heart. You want to feel like someone holds your world in their hands. You want them to love you back — really love you, so much that you’ll catch them looking at you and see it in their eyes immediately, so much that they’ll remember how you like your tea in the morning.

You don’t think your ex ever loved you, and you don’t really blame him for that. He liked you, certainly, and for a long time that was enough for you. But now, with it being over and him telling you he’d ‘met someone’, you want more out of your next relationship.

Then again, you’d thought that last time as well.

You’re grateful when Jungkook brings you your tea, tearing you away from thoughts you really don’t want to be having right now. He gives you a smile, then is quick to retreat back behind the counter, and something tells you that he has the same difficulties talking to people as you do.

That can’t make his job fun.

You’re soon able to immerse yourself in your work, much to your surprise. Usually, you’re hyper aware of your surroundings, and it’s hard to get work done unless you’re in a place that’s both quiet and familiar, but the atmosphere in here is so warm and pleasant that you’re able to relax and focus, all while drinking your tea and eating your sweets. It’s quite close to perfect, actually.

Which is why you jump violently when someone’s voice booms into the shop.

“Jeon Jungkook!”

You look up, panicked, and Jungkook turns around with the exact same look on his face. You don’t remember the doorbell ringing, so it has to be someone from the shop, and indeed, a tall man with short black hair walks in from the same place Jungkook entered. And your brain short-circuits.

It doesn’t happen all that often, for you to simply find yourself frozen because of how good-looking someone is, but in that case, you just can’t help it. The man who just walked in is tall, with very nice, broad shoulders, and the apron he is wearing underlines the muscles of his chest in ways you didn’t think were possible, but more than that, he’s also, quite possibly, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. When you glance at his plump, full lips, you find yourself having a hard time to tear yourself away. You’re relieved that you didn't have to order from him, because you’re sure it would have made you blush and stutter.

“Jungkook, there’s a mess in the back! What are you waiting fo—” Jungkook gives panicked glances in your direction, and the man catches your presence from the corner of his eyes, turning his sentence around as smoothly as is humanly possible, all while his lips curve up into a professional smile. “Ooh, hello, dear customer! I don’t think we’ve seen you here before, have we?”

A smile spills on your mouth, much to your surprise.

“No, it’s my first time here,” you answer. Your voice isn’t as strong as you’d like for it to be, but at least you didn’t choke. You suppose still being heartbroken serves as a shield against the man’s handsomeness. “I figured there’d be some discount after Valentine’s Day, and I was hungry, so…”

“You figured you’d kill two birds with one scone?” the man asks while Jungkook, behind him, silently smacks his forehead. You figure he’s heard it a million time before, but you haven’t, and you can’t help but laugh. That makes the man’s smile widen genuinely and his eyes crease.

“I guess you came up with the bakery name,” you chuckle.

“Absolutely. Isn’t it a great name?”

Jungkook shakes his head in disgust.

“It’s genius,” you say, and the man slams his hand on the table.

“See? I told you! Jungkook keeps saying that I have a terrible sense of humor—”

“I’ll be in the back if you need me,” Jungkook grumbles.

“Hey, what do we say to customers?”

“Ah— It was nice to meet you!” he says, turning around to look at you and he seems somewhat sincere. “I hope we’ll be seeing you again.”

Then he bows his head politely and disappears in the back of the shop. The other man — who you suppose is the owner of the place — watches, laughing fondly, but goes quiet after that, so you go back to your work.

You don’t stay around too long, not wanting to overstay your welcome, but you’re still the only one in the shop by the time you decide to walk out.

“Was the tea any good?” the man asks as you walk by him.

You nod and smile.

“And the chocolates were delicious,” you add. “I’ll make sure to come back.”

“That’s music to my ears,” he says, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. That’s when you notice the ‘Seokjin’ tag on his apron. You don’t know what to do with that information, though. You don’t call strangers by their first name and you also don’t stalk people on line.

Especially not when you don’t have their last name.

You say a quick ‘goodbye’, then walk out. Jin’s eyes follow you for a few seconds, before he sighs and turns around, already taking off his apron.

“Jungkook!”

The boy is quick to appear again, scanning the shop for your presence.

“She’s gone?” he asks, and Jin gives a slap at the back of his employee's head with a groan. There’s no strength in it, though, and Jungkook barely reacts to it.

“How could you run away like that, you little—”

Jungkook easily avoids him when Jin tries to him it again, laughing at his outrage.

“We’re not going to be getting a lot more clients today, are we?” he asks, looking outside at the passers-by that don’t even spare a glance at the little shop.

“No,” Jin groans, letting himself fall on a chair.

The depressing calm that follows what is possibly the busiest day of the year for him is just one of the reasons why he absolutely despises Valentine’s Day.

February 22nd

When you show up at the bakery again, about a week later, you’re feeling surprisingly good about it. Last time went well, you decided, and the people were nice, so you’re not afraid to throw a quiet but polite “Hello!” when you walk in. It’s kind of funny — or is it sad — how it always surprises you when people are nice to you, much more used to passive disinterest at best.

There’s another man in the shop this time, with a laptop and a coffee in front of him, but he doesn’t look up at you. A head lifts up from behind the counter though. You feel vaguely embarrassed that you remember this one is Seokjin, and you only feel more awkward when he gives you a dazzling smile.

A glance at the display tells you that they have restocked on their strawberry-based pastries, and you happily pick a slice of cake for yourself.

“For here or to go?”

“I’ll have it here,” you say with a smile. You feel strangely proud of yourself for being able to say it spontaneously. He has no way of knowing it, but it’s quite the victory for you. Usually, you try to run from the presence of others as fast as you can, and it’s even worse those days. “And I’ll also have Darjeeling tea with it, please.”

“Coming right up, just take a seat and I’ll bring it to you,” he says, and then he winks. He doesn’t stick around to see the surprised look on your face, so you just do as he told you, wondering if he was flirting with you or if he’s just Like That. You think that second explanation might be the answer.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says when he arrives with the cake and the tea. You’re pretty sure he can’t place you exactly, just thinks your face is familiar, but it still makes you happy.

He tells you he hopes you’ll come back when you leave, and you decide you want to believe it.

June 1st

You’re not sure when you become an official ‘regular’ at the bakery. Maybe it’s when you ask Jin if they even do scones, and he leans over the counter to tell you conspiratorially that he actually wanted to call the shop ‘bake it ’til you make it’, but was told it was too long. That elicits a brief burst of laughter from you, and Jungkook tells you to stop encouraging him, but Seokjin looks so happy with himself when you laugh that you decide not to listen to him. Jin has that way of breaking past your shyness that fascinates you. It might be what keeps you coming back, more than the delicious sweets and how beautiful the two workers look.

Or maybe it’s when Jin tells you that it’s not fair you know their names but they don’t know yours, and that he’d ask you for your ID before selling you stuff if you don't tell him. When you tell him, he repeats it a couple of times, like he’s tasting it, before nodding with satisfaction. After that, him and Jungkook start greeting you with it, and insist you do the same with them. You’re reluctant at first, feeling somewhat confused about the whole thing, but it turns out to feel… nice, to have people to greet, and who also know your name.

Maybe it’s when Jin tells you that you’re late when you come in, or complains when you don’t show up on one of your usual days because you had a meeting with your boss. He doesn’t say anything on the day where you take your pastries to go because you’re visiting a friend at the hospital, though, and you wonder if he can just tell. Regardless, you appreciate it.

You find out about other people who come here frequently, too, and especially the ones who are friends with Jin and Jungkook. Namjoon, who sits with his laptop at the opposite end of the café from you. Yoongi, who usually sits in the same spot as you, and eyes you threateningly when he comes in and you’re there the first time, until Seokjin tells him to knock it off. Taehyung and Jimin, who always come in together, and who Jungkook usually joins to bicker and laugh with them. Hoseok, who likes to waltz in at random times, and whose smile actually rivals Jin’s.

You yourself come in twice a week, getting to your usual place to work — except on the couple of occasions where Yoongi gets there before you and gives you a triumphant smile when he sees you. You enjoy the way you’re always greeted by Jungkook or Seokjin, like they’re genuinely happy to see you. You discover that the old ladies who come here to gossip love to flirt with Jin and that, even though he flirts back outrageously, much to their delight, his ears tend to turn a bright red when he does.

You even bring your friends on a couple of occasion, and Seokjin jokes that you’re responsible for half of his turnover at this point. Your friends enjoy the food, and the drinks, but they enjoy the handsome employees and customers a lot more.

“So this is where all the hot men were,” Hana marvels when you walk out, and you burst out laughing. You like that you’ve shared this place with her, because it’s something that makes you really happy these days, motivates you to come out of your bed, and even to talk to people, something you’ve never been good at.

When you walk into the shop and make small talk with the people you’ve come to know, something you used to consider yourself terrible at, it might be silly, but it kind of feels like home.

June 21st

You are pretty sure you know when you go from regular to friend, though. It’s a day like any other and you hum on your way to the shop. Instead of the joyful “Welcome back, (Y/N)!” that you’ve gotten used to hearing these past few weeks, however, you’re greeted with Seokjin shouting “(Y/N), my savior!”.

You freeze on the spot and give him a worried look. From his table, Namjoon looks up, just as puzzled.

“Is everything okay, Jin?” he asks.

“Jungkook isn’t there today,” Jin tells you. His voice doesn’t sound different from usual, but there is a glint of panic in his eyes.  “I need your help.”

Namjoon stands up.

“Why didn’t you ask me? I could—”

“Stay where you are and don’t even think of approaching my kitchen,” Jin says threateningly. “(Y/N)? Please?”

Well. You suppose your work can get done later. You’re more productive when you come here, so you have some advance on your usual deadlines these days. But you don’t know what Jin wants from you and you’ve never worked in a bakery.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask cautiously.

He grabs your shoulders and your eyes widen at the contact. Not that it’s unpleasant, just unexpected.

“I knew when you first walked in here that you were a godsend,” he tells you seriously, looking right into your eyes, and you tell yourself that if he’s that good of an actor, you should probably watch out. “We’re out of milk.”

You blink.

“Okay. Is there a specific type of milk you want?”

“Just, milk. Get me milk and I’ll worship the ground you walk on until the end of days.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and take your bag off your shoulder, handing it to him.

“Look after that, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll protect it with my life,” he says solemnly. “Also paper napkins please!” he shouts as you’re already walking out.

“Will do!”

“Bake a leg!”

You want to protest the joke that even you find to be quite bad, but the door has already closed behind you, so you just shake your head at him, only to see him laughing with satisfaction through the glass, and head to the nearest supermarket.

You come back with two big packs of milk and a lot of paper napkins, just as two men are exiting. You’ve seen them before, but they never stay to chat. Inside, Jin is juggling three women, and he looks more relieved than you’ve ever seen him when you walk in.

“I’ll help you with that,” Namjoon says immediately, bumping in the table as he gets up.

“If you break anything, I’ll kill you,” Jin warns him. He’s smiling like he’s joking, and his tone is light, like he doesn’t want to scare off his customers, but his eyes say he’s sincere.

You’re quick in the back, and Namjoon does drop the packs once, but nothing bad happens. He presses a finger against his lips to tell you to keep it a secret, and you grin without a word. Part of you is kind of wondering what you’re doing there, why Jin feels comfortable letting you in the back and why he asked you to do that, but you don’t have an issue with it, not by a long shot. This is… kind of fun, actually.

“Anything else you want me to do?” you ask Jin when you come out, and he looks at you in a pleading way.

“You don’t mind?”

Something tells you you shouldn’t accept too quickly, that you could end up in way over your head faster than you know. But his brown eyes are wide and desperate and you just can’t say no. So you smile and shake your head.

“Of course not. You look like you really need a hand here.”

“I do.”

That’s how you find yourself in an apron, with the cute, black hat Jin and Jungkook always wear on your head. Jin mostly sends you in the back to pick up things he needs, or makes you bring the beverages to the customers, which you’re thankful for, because that way you don’t have to greet anyone. Time flies quickly, and you can barely find a second to breathe for the first few hours.

“Sorry, it’s lunch time,” Jin grimaces as he passes you by, and you think to yourself that at least, it will get better, but it takes a while even after that, and when it’s done, Jin sends you to buy some more stuff from the supermarket, because as it turns out, things go fast.

Before you know it, it’s closing time, and you look outside in disbelief. The sky is starting to turn a nice pink, and other shops are putting up their shutters.

“You can go, if you want,” Jin tells you. He sounds terribly sorry, and that makes you feel bad. It’s such an unusual tone for him to have.

His offer is tempting, of course. Your feet hurt, your head aches a little from all the noise that never bothered you before but turns out to be a lot when you’re there all day, you’ve burned your hand against an oven, and you’ve found out that carrying things ends up really hurting your back. But you know that he’s experiencing the same thing you do, and you just don’t have the heart to abandon him here. Also, you’ve already lost your day, so you might as well help him out now.

“It’s fine,” you sigh. “Do you want me to help with anything?”

Cleaning up goes quietly in the main shop, and that soothes you a little. You don’t mind the silence, even enjoy it, and find yourself relaxing for the first time today. Surprisingly, you’re feeling… satisfied. It’s not something you would particularly look forward to doing again, but you’re happy you did it, happy you helped Jin, and you feel like you’ve accomplished something today, which is always a good thing.

“You have flour everywhere,” he tells you bluntly when you walk in the back of the shop, and you laugh.

“Well, it got everywhere,” you reply, trying to rub some off your face, and it’s Jin’s turn to laugh when you fail miserably.

You know you shouldn’t do it, but you gather a small handful of flour from the table, and throw it at him. A good chunk hangs in the air and makes you cough, but the rest does land on his apron. His mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape and you know you’ve messed up.

“Listen, I am so sorry—”

“No you’re not,” he says, taking a step towards you. His hand is on the table, which is covered with flour, and you swallow.

“Sure I am, Jin, please—”

But your pleas fall in deaf ears, and flour is soon flying your way. It’s your turn to stare at Jin in disbelief, and then you’re laughing, loud and clear.

Maybe that’s the exact moment when the two of you become friends — really friends.

Or maybe it’s seconds later, when the room you’re in turns into the scene for an all-out flour battle. Regardless, you’re laughing the whole way through, when you’re not choking on the flour hanging in the air. Jin’s laughter is quieter than yours, miles away from the booming and somewhat fake laugh you’re used to hearing from him.

The fight only escalates when Jin picks up an egg. You shake your head, mouth ‘no’, but he doesn’t listen, and after that, things get a lot messier. By the time the two of you, exhausted and bent in half because of how much you’ve been laughing, finally stop, you can feel yoke trickling down your back, and you know the sight can’t be pretty. Jin reaches out to you in a useless attempt to wipe some flour from your face, only to laugh more when it, of course, fails once more.

You try not to think about the jolt of electricity that ran through you when his fingers came in contact with your cheek.

“I’ll clean up in here,” he tells you, “but you should go take a shower upstairs.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, surprised. Suddenly, you’re very conscious of the fact that you don’t know him that well. In recent months, you’ve talked to him more than you do with your close friends, and you did just throw several eggs at him, but you don’t know him. You’re aware of the fact that he lives above the shop, but you’ve never been there. The two of you have never even exchanged numbers.

He makes dramatic hand gestures to signal you to get away, like you’re bothering him, and you leave with a last laugh. You don’t notice the way he looks up when you do, or the way it makes him smile. He can’t help it, he just loves that he makes you laugh.

You’re relieved to step into the shower, both because you’re happy to clean up and because there was something really awkward about being in Seokjin’s apartment for the first time, alone. The place was not quite as decorated as the bakery was, with paler colors. Walking through it, you had noticed big speakers, some books in a shelf, and a couple of cute plushes that you had had to resist not to fawn over. The place worked for him, you had decided. It was more understated than you would have expected when you had just started to know him, but it doesn’t surprise you anymore. Jin tends to be quiet when he doesn’t have to be ‘on’, and it’s something he doesn’t seem to feel he has to do around you anymore.

You sigh in pleasure when the hot water hits you, close your eyes. You’ve been craving it for hours now — long before the food battle with Jin. It helps relax your aching muscles, washes away all the sweat from the day, and you have to resist not to just let yourself fall down onto the floor. Your back hurts, but the worst part has to be your feet. You feel yourself gaining a lot more appreciation for Jin and Jungkook, who are always kind, smiling and polite despite all of this. The only thing that kept you from biting someone’s head off tonight was your crippling anxiety when it comes to interacting with strangers.

It’s almost funny now to think you used to feel that way around Jin.

You look around for some soap you could use, and in your search, you’re surprised to find shampoo that was definitely intended for a woman. You don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s no wonder that Jin would have a girlfriend, really, it’s the opposite that should shock you, but you still didn’t expect it. You force away the pinch in your chest. Jin is a new friend, you can’t have your heart fluttering like that.

You consider using it for half a second, before deciding that it would be very awkward if you came out smelling like his girlfriend. Instead, you do your best to get rid of any egg, and tell yourself you’ll wash your hair at home. You barely hear the sound of the door opening and closing over the water, and you’re startled by Jin’s voice outside the bathroom.

“You can take a towel from the chest of drawers,” he tells you, “and I’ll leave a shirt outside, if you want it.”

“Thank you!” you shout back.

Seokjin stands there a few seconds, before quickly shaking his head and walking away. He knows his ears are turning red, and he hates himself for it, but is it his fault, really? Is he supposed not to think about you, right now, in his shower, water running down your body? He never even thought to pretend he was that innocent.

He occupies himself by preparing a drink for the two of you, and then by cleaning around. He’s not particularly messy, though, and there isn’t much to do, so he ends up sitting on his couch, feeling awkward in his own house, and scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He freezes again when he hears the bathroom door open and close, guessing you’re picking up his shirt. Which means you’re— God what is wrong with him tonight? When did he regress to the state of a hormonal teenager?

He hopes he looks natural when you come out, because he’s doing his best for that. The nervous way he’s running his hands over his thighs would probably give him out, though, if you weren’t feeling just as stressed as him.

“I’m done,” you mumble, your shyness coming back, which you decide is to be expected in that situation.

It vanishes the second Jin looks you over and snorts.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, glancing down, and immediately you know that you’re probably ridiculous in his black shirt. It looks like it’s swallowing you whole. “It’s not my fault if your shoulders are that broad,” you pout.

“You look so small,” Jin chuckles. He sounds endeared, and if you noticed that sort of things, you would absolutely realize that his eyes linger on you in his clothes fondly — and a little longer than necessary.

“Want something to drink?” he asks, gesturing at the stuff he got out of the fridge when he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Sure,” you smile, letting yourself fall down on the couch next to him and pouring yourself a glass. The brief awkwardness that washed over you when you came in vanishes already, because of how comfortable you feel around Jin. He’s always been good at making you feel that way, and now he doesn’t even have to try.

“So, how did you find your day?” he asks you, and you look at him, surprised by his tone. He sounds quiet, cautious almost, like he’s worried about what your reaction might be, or that he could be bothering you.

“Fine,” you say with a shrug. “I can’t say I’d want to do it again— When is Jungkook coming back?”

Jin chuckles, and again, it takes you by surprise. It’s so… quiet. So discreet, compared to his usual attitude.

“He should be there tomorrow, don’t worry about it.” Then, he grimaces. “But seriously, thank you for helping out today. I owe you.”

“Yes you do,” you say with a grin, bumping your shoulder against his, trying to lift the mood a little, because he sounds genuinely worried. “Just offer me the tea next time, and I’ll consider us even.”

Finally, a smile forms on his lips, and he shakes his head dramatically, putting his hand over his heart.

“No, I don't think I could ever repay you,” he says, and you laugh at his antics, like you always do. He looks a little appeased by that, and that’s a relief. “Your back must hurt,” he says. “Turn around.”

You raise an eyebrow, but do as he says, startling when his hands fall on your shoulders. They’re large, engulfing you easily, but they also move gently as he slowly massages you.

“Oh,” you gasp, leaning back into him. This is— good. This is very very good. For a few minutes — or maybe much longer, you couldn’t tell — you just stay there, eyes closed, lips parted, focused on the delicious feelings of his hands gently rubbing all the pain and soreness of the day away. When he stops, it takes you a few seconds to come back down to reality, and maybe, just maybe you miss the feeling of his hands. “Oh,” you repeat, rolling your shoulders slowly. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Jin says. “It’s kind of my fault.”

You turn around, shaking your head.

“Seokjin,” you say. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind helping.”

“You’re too kind,” he frowns. “You shouldn’t let people take advantage of that.”

“I’m not!”

Then Jin smiles, in a way that only lifts one corner of his lips, and suddenly you feel— you’re not too sure. Something seems to melt inside you, something moves in your stomach like you’re free falling. You probably should recognize the feeling. It’s not like it’s anything new to you, and yet you miss it. You do something you almost never do in that situation, and you take a step back. You glance up from his lips, shoot him a smile, and get up from the couch.

“It’s getting late,” you comment. “I really need to go home.”

Jin is on his feet immediately.

“I’ll walk you back,” he says, concern flashing in his eyes.

“I’m good. It’s not that far and I need to clear my head after, you know, everything today.” You’re not sure you know, but Jin nods, though a little reluctantly.

“You’re sure?”

“Very.”

He sighs. He doesn’t seem too pleased about it, but you guess he doesn’t want to insist too much, either.

“Give me your phone,” he says, and when you hand it to him, he types his number in, pouting as he explains himself to you. “Text me when you get home, alright? Otherwise I’ll just worry all night, because everyone is so unreasonable, and just wants me to lose sleep, and—”

You take your phone back from him with a laugh.

“I’ll text you,” you promise, briefly putting your hand over his. That feels— normal, you decide. It’s not like your hands have never brushed in the months since you’ve started frequenting the bakery. It just feels fine, and whatever there was before could just be a false alert. But then Jin looks into your eyes, and the feeling comes back.

“You better.”

You practically flee the bakery. You’re trying to make sense of the whole thing in your head, and it doesn’t go over great. You let Jin know you got home safe, and then do your best to push the whole thing out of your mind when you go to bed. You refuse to think about it too much. Not because you don’t understand what’s going on, but because somewhere, deep down, you do. This isn’t— this isn’t something you do. You fall hard and fast, that’s— that’s your thing.

Sometimes it’s nice, others it’s disappointing, but most importantly, it means that when the relationship is over, your life just goes back to what it was before. It you ever had feelings for a friend, someone you’re so used to having around… You’re sure it would truly break your heart.

July 15th

Summer is horribly hot this year. Fortunately for you, your favorite bakery has started serving ice cream. There is air conditioning in the store, but with the door constantly opening and closing, gusts of hot air regularly reach even you. No one seems too happy with the situation, with Jungkook seeming to slowly come apart under the temperature. Even Namjoon has abandoned ship, leaving much earlier than usual today. He waved at you when he got out, and you waved back.

Who knew, maybe the two of you would actually talk next time.

Jin uses a lull in the otherwise busy afternoon to drop at your table, and you smile to him. You haven’t really gone through anything like that night ever since, and you decided it was just a one time thing. You were tired from the work, and you were touch-starved, and, surely, there was nothing there, other than you gaining a new friend.

Yup. Nothing to see at all. Even when he’s sitting next to you, trying to fan himself with one of the bakery’s menus, head thrown back in a way that makes his Adam’s apple even more prominent.

You never thought yourself as someone who particularly enjoyed necks, but it seems you were wrong.

Not that that has anything to do with feelings, of course. Jin’s just hot. You already knew that.

“Hey, (Y/N), what’s your favorite cake?” he asks you.

It takes you just a second too long to answer.

“Uh. Anything that has strawberries in it, I guess,” you say, and he nods, but he’s also frowning. “Are my tastes not up to par?” you grin, raising an eyebrow.

“Clearly, your tastes are great, since you keep coming back,” Jin answers immediately, with the confidence that you now know to be mostly facade, but that you’ve still come to love. “No, strawberries are good. I can work with strawberries.”

“I actually wanted strawberries the first time I came here,” you reminisce. “But there weren’t any left because that was after Valentine’s Day.”

Jin clicks his tongue in disgust.

“Worst day of the year,” he says, “though February is a bad month for strawberries in general.”

“You don’t like Valentine’s Day?” you ask, and if you were a dog, your ears would be perking up with interest. You’ve always loved to hear people’s opinion on the holiday, because it’s so divisive. “You guys must make quite a lot of money…”

“I’m wounded that you’d think money is all I care about,” Jin sighs dramatically, though the glint in his eyes lets you know that he’s only joking. “It’s just very busy,” he admits. “It’s a lot of work to prepare, people place a lot of orders, and we basically don’t get a minute to ourselves. Not to mention— do you know what it does to a person to know that the food he lovingly prepared is probably going to be eaten off someone’s body?”

You can’t help it. You burst out laughing. When you do, you’re completely unaware of the fond way Jin looks at you. He’s always liked that he made you laugh, from the very first day you came into the store.

“No,” you admit, “no, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Well I have to.”

“I’m so sorry for you.”

“I’m sorry for me too.”

Then Jimin practically waltzes in and energetically greets everyone in the room, including you, and Jin gets up to serve him and Taehyung because Jungkook looks like he’s about to collapse, and you don’t give much more thought to the conversation.

But Jin remembers that strawberry cake is your favorite.

September 18th

Somehow, you get roped into helping Jin with his grocery shopping. He sat at your table and complained about how Jungkook wouldn’t be able to help him that week, and you voiced your sympathy, and next thing you knew, you were in the supermarket with him.

Well, maybe you’d offered your help. Maybe you just didn’t want to admit it because of that time he’d told you you were too kind.

“You know, I thought I’d be helping you for the bakery,” you comment, “but this mostly looks like it’s for you.”

“I am the bakery,” Jin replies, and you grin.

You watch him as he carefully crosses item after item of his detailed list. You expected him to be messy, to grab whatever he wanted, but he is as meticulous with this as he is with the baking he does for his customers. Which is— strangely endearing to you.

“Most of what we get comes in bigger orders,” he explains to you once he’s done with that aisle. “Sometimes, we find ourselves missing some things…”

“Like milk.”

“It’s always the milk,” he sighs, shaking his head it brings back bad memories. “But that’s not an issue for a lot of thing, unless something very specific comes up. Like a customer wanting  a pineapple pie.”

You tilt your head as he cautiously picks pineapples. You’re not even sure how you can tell if a pineapple is ripe, but he looks like he knows what he’s doing.

“That sounds… interesting?”

“It’s going to sound very interesting when I’ll make you carry half the bags,” Jin says, and you roll your eyes. Does he think you’re going to bail on him? You would never do that.

Well. Until your eyes fall on Minho, standing there, like he hasn’t simply vanished from your life six months ago. There’s a woman with him, and she’s laughing at something he said. You suppose she was the one he met — or maybe another one, there’s no way of knowing, really. But they look like they’re getting along well, and it— it makes you happy. You think.

“Huh,” you mumble. “That’s my ex over there.”

Jin looks up so fast you worry he might hurt his neck.

“What? Where? Do you need me to insult him?”

You’re about to say no when Minho turns around, and his eyes meet yours. He gives you a hesitant nod, and you think that’s going to be it, but then, after a few seconds of obvious inner debate, he makes his way towards you.

Great.

“(Y/N),” he says, a bit awkwardly. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” you reply softly and, much to your surprise, you mean it. You did your best not to let yourself miss him, but you suppose you did. It’s been a long time since you last saw him.

“This is, erm, this is Lisa,” he says, gesturing at the woman, who gives you a polite smile. It looks like she knows exactly who you are, and you suppose it must be uncomfortable for her as well. “My girlfriend.”

Yeah. You’d pieced that together. But then, Minho’s eyes move to Jin, and he raises an eyebrow, and you realize what he’s thinking about.

“Oh, this is—”

“Seokjin,” Jin says, extending his hand. “I’m her boyfriend.”

You’re sure that anyone looking at you can tell from your expression, from the way your mouth falls open and from the incredulous way you shake your head that that’s not true, but both Minho and Lisa are looking at him, and miss it completely. When Jin looks at you, he gives an imperceptible nod and puts an arm around your shoulders.

The warmth is— kind of nice. Maybe it even sends a shiver down your back, but you’re sure it’s because you’re still quite touch-starved those days.

Nothing else here.

“That’s great,” Minho says, and he looks relieved. “It’s great that you’re with someone.”

“Isn’t it?” Jin says before you can think of anything to answer to that. “She walked into my bakery and I just knew she would become my favorite client. Basically love at first sight.”

“Love at first sale, maybe,” you can’t help but answer, even if you know, reasonably, that you shouldn’t entertain him. You’re pretty sure he’s trying to show off in front of the two, which is really unnecessary, but you appreciate the gesture. “Jin makes the best cakes you can find in the whole town,” you tell them. Not to show off, but because it’s true. There are a lot of good things you could tell them about Jin, come to think of it. A lot.

“Maybe we should try it then,” Lisa says, smiling. She looks more relaxed than earlier, though you suppose she could also just be trying to get out of this conversation.

“Oh, it’s a must,” you reply sincerely, and Jin laughs, pulling you against his chest a little.

“She’s too nice,” he says, and you immediately protest that no, definitely not, he does, and you’re sure you look like a very annoying couple, because it doesn’t take long for Minho to clear his throat.

“Well, we have to go but it was— it was nice catching up with you.”

“Same,” you nod, and when he leaves, you can’t help but watch him. You don’t really feel anything right now. You were sincerely happy to see him, but it felt like running into a childhood friend you haven’t seen in a long, long time, and now have nothing in common with outside of those memories. Except it hasn’t been a life time since you last met him. Just a little over six months. Soon, he’ll just be someone you used to know.

You wish you were more upset by this. You wish there was anything that told you that what you had with him actually mattered. Instead, this vague indifference lets you know that your paths had probably diverged before the two of you even broke up. And that makes you kind of sad.

“Are you okay?” Jin asks. He has that quiet voice you’ve heard a few times now.

“I’m fine,” you nod, “but you really didn’t have to do that. I wasn’t— Minho and I aren’t— there really was no need.”

“I was happy to do it,” Jin says, and you notice how petty he sounds. “It’s always a joy to let an ex see how much better than them you’re doing.”

You laugh. You probably agree with him on that, but you’re not going to help feed his ego even more. Jungkook would probably never forgive you for it.

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like you doing that,” you observe, and Jin answers that remark with a blank stare.

“When have I ever said anything about a girlfriend?”

“Well, there was a bottle of shampoo at your place that—”

“So a guy can’t like having his hair smell like fruit, huh?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Wow, way to reinforce stereotypes, (Y/N). I expected more of you.”

He ignores your attempts at protesting and strides away from you. It takes you a few moments to catch up, because of his stupid long legs of his.

“If I had a girlfriend, I would never stop talking about her,” he lets you know while you’re catching your breath. “So don’t worry. You’ll know about it.”

“Duly noted,” you say. You maybe feel a little too happy about that new information so, to distract yourself from it, you change the subject. “So I’m your favorite customer?”

He scoffs and glances away from you, refusing to meet your eyes. He thought you hadn’t picked up on that.

“You’re a strong contestant, I guess,” he says reluctantly, and you laugh, not pushing it further.

“Anyway— Minho broke up with me a week Valentine’s Day,” you say. You’re not sure why. Maybe to let Jin that you’ve been over it for a long time.

“That’s rude,” Jin comments with a disapproving click of his tongue.

“He probably wanted to spend it with her,” you shrug. “When we got together, he told me he didn’t cheat. He left. So— I guess that was it.” Then there’s a laugh, and you can’t tell if it sounds bitter. You hope not. “I’ve actually never had a boyfriend for Valentine’s Day,” you confess.

The silence that follows is unusual for Jin. When you glance up at him, he’s just looking at you, and for a second, you think it’s pity you find in his eyes. But, from the way he frowns, you realize it could just be genuine sympathy.

“Would it make you feel better if I tell you it’s a terrible holiday that’s just there to sell things?”

“I already know that,” you chuckle, even if it does make you feel a little better. “I just want someone to buy me roses once, you know?”

Jin doesn’t answer, just looks at you, and something about the intensity of his stare makes you feel— feel things you told yourself you weren’t feeling for him. But then, you just ran into Minho, didn’t you? It makes sense that you would be all over the place emotionally.

“Anything more on your list?” you ask, and Jin blinks.

“Yeah, that way,” he says, sounding a bit off, but then he adds “More things for you to carry,” and you decide to brush it off.

But he stores the information in his mind. Strawberry cake and roses. Duly noted.

October 31st

“So do you actually like Halloween, or is this just another shameless cash grab for you?” you ask Jin when he brings you your tea.

You have to admit, him and Jungkook truly went all out for this. They’ve decorated the shop with pumpkins, and there are fake bats hanging from the ceiling. There are also themed cakes and chocolates shaped like spiders. It’s spooky, and it delights the kids that come in and ask the parents about it. You definitely appreciate the atmosphere it creates — and you also appreciate the way Hoseok jumped when he walked in front of the witch that lets out an evil laugh when someone passes the movement detector.

“Halloween is not terrible, I guess,” Jin says, like him and Jungkook don’t take a full day out of their schedules and bring in some friends just to decorate the shop. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you answer sincerely, and Jin’s expression softens.

“Hey, we’re having a small get-together after closing tonight,” he tells you spontaneously. “Wanna join us?”

You take a second to answer. It’s not like you don’t want to — far from that — but there’s that voice inside of you that tells you that you’ve been weird around Jin, and you don’t want to be weird around him. You want to keep things as they are, because he’s such a wonderful friend to have around. You’d hate yourself if you changed that.

But if the point is to have him around, then surely, telling him no right now would be counter-productive, right?

“Absolutely,” you say with a smile, and Jin beams, and you feel all warmed-up inside.

You already know that you’ll have fun, and you’ll laugh, and he’ll insist on walking you him and you’ll tell him no. And it sounds exactly like how you want to spend your evening.

January 10th

You first meet Sungho on New Year’s Eve, at Hana’s party. The two of you click immediately, and you enjoy the familiar rush of feelings, the waiting for a text after you’ve given him your number, the anticipation of knowing where this is all leading, if everything goes right. After a week, you run into him at the bakery, or, well, you’re sitting in your usual corner when he comes in. He doesn’t see you immediately, but when he looks in your direction after a little while, you happily wave him over.

“You don’t usually come here, do you?” you ask him. “I would have seen you by now if you were a regular.”

He chuckles, flashes you a bright smile, and you smile in return. Sungho has a nice smile. He doesn’t laugh easily, though, from what you saw when you met him, which is a shame, but definitely not a dealbreaker, even if you love to hear people laugh.

“No, I saw you were talking about this place a lot online, and I figured I would come and check it out. Of course, seeing you here is the best part,” he adds with a wink, and he leans towards you a little. The obvious flirtation sends a wave of heat through your chest, and you don’t hesitate to lean forward as well, resting your elbow on the table and putting your chin on your hand. You enjoy the closeness, the proximity, the chase.

You pull away when Jin arrives with Sungho’s order.

“This looks great,” Sungho comments. “I’m glad (Y/N) advertised you so much.”

“Well, there’s a reason she’s our favorite customer,” Jin replies, smiling, and when you meet his eyes, they’re fond and— and something else that makes it hard to breathe for a second.

But the smile fades when Sungho takes a portion of his cake with the spoon and offers it to you.

“Wanna try it?” he asks, and you do, because you know everything Jin makes will be amazing. You’re not sure you love the gesture itself — it’s kind of cute, but you’ve also just met him and it feels a bit strange — but you still giggle and take the bite.

And all Jin can do is stand there, looking at the two of you. He feels something he has felt before, and it’s that he let something he wanted pass him by. He waited too long to make a move, once again, and once again, it’s cost him something he doesn’t know how he’ll live without, and now he’ll have no choice but to figure it out.

You glance up, and he catches himself, plastering a smile on his lips.

“Enjoy yourselves!” he says, a little too loudly, and he knows, from the way you blink and the puzzled look you give him, that you’ve noticed and it’s— it’s horrible. It’s horrible that you know him that well and that you’ve seen so many facets of him and you’ve chosen someone else. You don’t ask anything, though, and he’s quick to leave.

He’s also quick to ask Jungkook to replace him in the shop, and he, very deliberately, doesn’t ask anything about how things went. Doesn’t want to know if you kissed, or worse, if you left together.

He’ll be fine. It’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t been through before.

February 5th

You feel impossibly excited when Sungho asks you out for Valentine’s Day. You gush about it to your friends, a lot, and Hana is delighted for you — and very pleased that her circles of friends are meeting like that. Jungkook sounds happy, too, though slightly more reserved, but you get the type of enthusiasm you wanted from Jimin and Taehyung.

Jin gets quiet when you let him know, though. It’s not something you haven’t seen before, but it does take you off guard, because you’ve never seen it happen while in the shop, where he’s usually on top of his game.

“Are you okay?” you ask, worried, leaning over the counter to put a hand on his arm. “You look a little under the weather these days.”

He smiles, but it lacks his usual flamboyance.

“Valentine’s Day is coming,” he tells you. “The worst day of the year.”

You laugh at that, relax, and take your hand off. You miss the way his eyes fall on the place you were just touching.

“Well, not this year, hopefully. Not this year.”

Yeah. He’s not so sure about that.

February 14th

It’s your first time, ever, having a date on Valentine’s Day, and you’re determined to do everything right. Sungho is taking you to a fancy restaurant, so you decide there is no issue in going all out. You take the day to prepare yourself, enlist Hana to do your make-up and hair, and you use the opportunity to wear a lovely bright red dress that you had been saving for a special occasion.

Hana whistles when you come out of your room after you’ve also put on half-transparent black tights.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she says with an appreciative nod.

You glance down at your body self-consciously and try to smooth the fabric of the dress. You do think it looks pretty good, but you could be wrong. Does it show too much of your legs? Does it hug your curves too tightly?

“You think he’s going to like it?” you ask, somewhat shyly.

“He should if he knows what’s good for him,” she replies, expression turning murderous, before softening. “Just… Are you sure you want to be doing that?”

You give her a confused look.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, going out with Sungho,” she says with a vague hand gesture. “I just— I don’t know. Do you like him that much?”

It’s funny. You haven’t really asked yourself that question. You’ve just been going through all the usual motions — the flirting, the dates, and, inevitably, the start of the relationship, which is probably for tonight.

“We— we get along fine,” you answer. “I like him.”

You leave the words ‘well enough’ out of that sentence. You like Sungho well enough. But then, that’s always been good enough for you, so why should it change now?

Hana seems to think about it for a little while, then shrugs.

“Okay then. Do you need my help to walk to the cab? I would not trust these things.”

She’s pointing at your heels, and it makes you laugh. These aren’t even that high, and they’re pretty stable. You don’t think you’ll have any trouble walking in them. Hana wouldn’t abandon her flat shoes to save her life, though, so you suppose the question was to be expected.

“You can just tell me if you want to hold my arm,” you tease, and it seems to take her by surprise, before she chuckles.

“You’ve gotten a little too good at that. I don’t know if I like it.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid Jin has infected me.”

That gives her pause, and she shoots you a weird look, but you miss it. She opens her mouth to say something, then gives up. She could be wrong, after all.

She kind of hopes she’s wrong, or that if she’s right, you’ll realize it soon enough.

The dinner is perfect. You’re dressed perfectly for the occasion, fitting right in the restaurant’s decor, Sungho complimented you when you walked in and you told him he looked great, which is true, the food is delicious, the conversation flows easily, and there are roses on the table. They’re not for you, part of the decoration, and it doesn’t look like Sungho’s gotten you any, which gives you just a little pinch of disappointment in your chest, but it’s also not a big deal. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

And you’re not happy with it.

You can’t place it, and it slowly drives you insane, as you and Sungho make your way through the meal. You try your best not to let it show, but you think he notices your increasing restlessness. You feel bad about it, because really, he hasn’t done anything wrong. You just— something’s not right.

Dammit. It’s your first time having a date on Valentine’s Day, and you can’t make it work.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Sungho says while the two of you are waiting for your desert, and you do your best to snap out of whatever is going on in your head to focus on him.

“Tell me,” you smile, though the smile is polite, rather than genuine.

He takes a deep breath and reaches over the table to take your hand. It’s far from the first time the two of you make physical contact, you’ve even kissed a few times, and it was nice, but something makes you want to recoil, in that moment. You don’t, though. Why would you? It doesn’t make sense. Nothing about you makes sense right now.

“I like you,” he says, and you find the breath knocked out of you. It’s not unpleasant, though, it’s very nice in fact, and it almost completely dissipates your previous discomfort. “And I think— you know. We haven’t said anything about being exclusive yet, so I figured I’d— ask.”

He looks pretty confident, which you thought would put you off, but it doesn’t. The answer seems obvious to you. It’s been just a little over a year since you broke up with Minho, which is a reasonable time, so your lips part to let him know that you’d be happy to—

It’s then that you remember. You remember what you told yourself after that break-up, and what you thought after the break-up before that, and the time before as well. You remember you told yourself you wouldn’t settle for less than what you really wanted. You told yourself you wanted to love and be loved. You told yourself you wanted someone who’d remember how you liked your tea.

And, just like in a movie, Jin’s face appears in your mind. You almost dismiss it, tell yourself it’s just because of the tea, until you realize it’s not. It just isn’t. You should have noticed earlier, you know that, but you’ve never been friends with someone before developing feelings for them. You’ve always told yourself you were an ‘all or nothing’ kind of person, that you were the type to know immediately if things could happen. Maybe you didn’t quite believe in love at first sight, but you’d always thought that love didn’t wait.

Apparently you were wrong.

Jin’s the one who inadvertently makes you pulse rush, when his hand brushes against you. Jin’s the one who lifts your spirits, no matter what. Jin makes you happy, makes you want to get up in the morning, has done that for months now. Jin actually knows you. Jin looks at you like you’re precious to him. Maybe that doesn’t mean love, maybe to him, it’s all just friendship, but to you, it’s much more than that. And the feeling you get is so strong, so powerful, that you understand that you need to tell him. Need to tell him now.

“I’m sorry,” you say to Sungho, who’s been waiting for an answer all this time. “I’m really sorry, I don’t think that can work out.”

His face falls, but he looks far from heartbroken.

“Oh,” he says. “Um. That’s—”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, already getting up from your chair. You’re buzzing with excitement, with feelings. “I have to go. I’ll pay for the meal, okay?”

“No, don’t—”

“Sorry!”

You stop at the counter briefly before rushing out into the night. You feel that you know exactly where you need to be.

You get to the bakery minutes before closing time, which is exceptionally at 9 p.m. for the day. A couple is just coming out, and that leaves only Jungkook inside. There’s nothing left on display, and you know it’s been impossibly busy, which means Jin is probably in a bad mood, but you can’t wait until tomorrow. When you walk in, Jungkook looks up from behind the counter, clearly surprised by the sound of someone coming in that late, and a puzzled look settles on his face when he notices that you’re out of breath, your previously perfect make-up now looking a little worse for wear.

“Is everything alright?” he asks. He sounds worried, and any other day you would take the time to reassure him, but in that moment you’re pushed by an energy that can’t be stopped, so you just nod quickly as an answer.

“Is Jin here?”

“In the back,” he says, tilting his head in that direction, and you’re pretty sure a glint of understanding lights up in his eyes.

“Can I….?”

He nods, a grin on his lips, and now you’re sure he knows why you’re here. You don’t wait for him to tease you about it, quick to make your way past him.

You freeze the second you walk into the backroom, though. It’s not just because of Jin’s back, though that definitely has more of an effect on you than you’d like to admit — the broad shoulders, the muscular back, and inexplicably, the nape of his neck. It’s also because of the large bouquet of red roses, standing in a vase on the table next to him. Your breath catches in your throat as you look at them. They look beautiful, vibrant, their fragrance floating through the room, all the way to you.

“Who are the roses for?” you ask, making Jin jump.

Any other time, you would have been pleased to take him by surprise for once, but right now you’re hanging on his words, waiting for an answer. The air feels heavy between you, and it doesn’t help that he doesn’t answer immediately, swallowing silently as his eyes travel over your body. You had almost forgotten about the dress you were wearing, and, instead of making you feel comfortable and confident, like it had earlier, you feel naked and vulnerable under his gaze.

Finally, his eyes meet yours, mouth slightly open, and by that point your heart is hammering in your chest. You wonder if he has any idea of how you’re feeling right now. Had he noticed your feelings when even you weren’t aware of them?

“What?” he croaks, voice dry, like he’s forgotten what you said.

“The roses,” you repeat. “Who are they for?”

You need an answer. Desperately.

Jin’s eyes move to the roses, and his face falls. He turns his back to you again as he goes back to whatever he’s cleaning.

“Didn’t you have a date tonight?”

You shrug, though he can’t see it.

“I broke things off with him,” you say lightly, and you don’t miss the way his movements pause, or the way his shoulders tighten, for half a second, before he keeps moving. “Are you— are you meeting someone?”

“No,” he protests immediately. “You know I don’t believe in Valentine’s day.”

You do. You remember that. So you wait for an explanation. It takes a while, and you just wait silently behind him, suspecting that he’s waiting for you to go away. After a few minutes, though, he slams his hand on the table, still not looking at you.

“They’re for you, okay? You said you’d always wanted roses for Valentine’s Day, and I figured, maybe your stupid boyfriend didn’t know that yet, and that I could maybe just drop them off at your place, and—”

“You didn’t ask me why I broke up with him,” you interrupt him, cutting his rambling short, and he falls silent. You catch his eyes from over his shoulder. Finally, you’re feeling yourself calm down, and at the same time you’re practically shaking with anticipation. “I realized I had feelings for someone else,” you say when he still doesn’t ask, just watching you, lips tight.

“…You do?” he simply says in reply. He’s tense, guarded, and you take a careful step towards him.

“Yeah,” you nod. Your eyes aren’t leaving his, not even for a second. “He’s smart, and kind, and handsome.” You take a step for each description you give, and you can’t help but smile on the last word. But your smile doesn’t reach Jin’s lips, and he’s just looking at you like he’s expecting you to tell him someone else’s name, or to make fun of him. “And he makes me laugh,” you add quietly, as you get to him, leaning against the table. “A lot. Some have even said it was a little too much.”

“So who is he?” he asks, and you smile. It’s wild to you that you haven’t understood earlier how absolutely head over heels in love with him you are, especially right now, when you’re standing so close to him. It’s also wild that he can’t see it, because you feel as though you’re radiating with that emotion, feel that anyone should be able to tell.

“It’s you,” you breathe out. “It’s obviously you.”

Then you’re pushing yourself up against his mouth, soft and slow. One of his hands closes around your waist as he leans forward, towering over you. His eyes are shut, and you close your own, reveling in the feeling of his warm body pressed against your own. You feel his tongue darting out to brush against your lips, and they part to grant him access, eager to taste all of him and—

“Couldn’t you tell me that earlier?” Jin protests loudly, tearing himself away from you, and your eyes snap open. “I would have planned the best Valentine’s Day you’ve ever—”

You groan and cut him off with another kiss, faster and harder this time, grabbing his wrists to guide his hands to your hips. You moan in contentment into his mouth when he kisses you back and he swallows it eagerly, pressing you into the table, bodies meeting like they’ve been waiting for it for forever and you—

“I wanted to make you an amazing strawberry cake! Now I don’t have any strawberries left!”

“Jin, please,” you sigh, unable to tolerate any other interruption, “would you just shut up and kiss me?”

And, finally, he does. Holds you like he never wants to let you go, kisses you like there’s no tomorrow, and when the two of you part, he rests his forehead against yours like he can’t bear the thought of being away from you even for a second. The silent stretches, comfortable, only filled with your respirations, until someone clears their throat, and the two of you jump away from each other.

“Sorry,”Jungkook says with a shit-eating grin that tells you he’s not sorry at all, “but I was about to leave. Will the two of you be okay?”

“I’m sure we can work things out without you,” Jin says. “Goodbye!”

But Jungkook doesn’t leave right away, turning his smile to you. You would hide into Jin’s shoulder, but you feel so good you can’t be bothered right now.

“Goodbye (Y/N)!”

“Bye, Jungkook!”

“That kid, I swear,” Jin says, shaking his head, as Jungkook leaves, his laugh hanging in the air behind him for a few seconds.

“I quite like him,” you comment, fingers dancing down Jin’s neck to come trace the border of his shirt.

“Oh, you do?” There is a dangerous edge to his tone and you glance up, surprised.

“Are you jealous?” you ask. “I didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

“I’m not.”

“Because it’s not Jungkook I abandoned my date for.”

“Good that you did. I never liked him.”

“So you are jealous.”

Seokjin mumbles something incomprehensible and you laugh and hug him tighter. And when he asks you if you want to come upstairs, even if he doesn’t have the perfect Valentine’s Day dinner planned, even if really, all he has to offer is himself, you tell him yes, of course.

Because he’s all you want right now.

It turns out, you wouldn’t have eaten the dinner anyway. The second the door closes behind you, you’re pulling him down against you for a kiss, and he doesn’t oppose any resistance, doesn’t protest like he did before, just lets out a moan into your mouth. He’s just as eager as you are to get rid of that tight dress.

“Careful with the tights,” you warn when his hands start roaming your thighs.

“Take them off then,” he groans.

You press a few kisses against his mouth, feeling delighted with the way he restrains himself, hands turning into fists against your hips as he stops himself from tearing off your closes. Finally, you pull away with a giggle. His eyes are wide and dark with desire, and they only get wider when you playfully slide off your dress’ strap.

“Don’t tease,” he says, practically growls, but you decide that you will. You guide him to his couch, push him down onto it, and evade him when he tries to pull you down with him, slipping out of his grasp. You stand just out of his reach, but more than close enough to be tantalizing, and you see in his eyes that it’s working just fine.

You take the time of making a show out of sliding down your dress down your body, letting it pool down at your feet before stepping out of it. The heels are the next thing to go, and then, finally, the offending tights. The second you’re out of those, Seokjin pounces, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto the couch.

“If you want us to move this to the bedroom, now would be a good time to say it,” he says as he kisses your neck, hands traveling up and down your body, large and calloused, but kind and gentle.

“I’m good here,” you say, arching your back to grant him better access — and to roll your hips against him. “Are you good here?”

You feel his breath catching in his throat when you move, as well as something hard pressing against you in his pants, and his voice is slightly choked when he answers.

“Yeah. This would happen at some point anyway.”

You laugh. You can’t wait to try this in all the places the two of you can think of in his apartment.

“Then let’s get to it, shall we?”

Jin doesn’t seem to have anything to answer to that, especially not when you hook your leg around his, using your heel to push him down on top of you. He’s still dressed, but you plan on rectifying that. You stop kissing him to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he lets you, breathing heavily. Your fingers explore the skin you reveal in the process, and you’re delighted when he shivers as you find out where his sensitive spots are — right under his collarbone, his nipples, his ribs.

Finally, the shirt joins your dress on the floor. You take a second to marvel at his body. His shoulders are even nicer to look at like that, you decide. You capture Jin’s mouth again, this time with your hands fisting his hair. You’re feeling yourself growing more impatient, wetter, and while your panties are the only thing still covering your body, he’s still wearing pants — which is far too much clothing.

“I want you so bad,” you whisper to him, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Fuck. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

That makes you grin, and you arch your back into him again, pressing yourself against his now rock hard crotch.

“Oh, I think I do,” you reply devilishly, and all Jin does is to bury his head into your neck. His fast breathing tickles your skin, and you love it. You love discovering that you have that effect on him, love how you can make him come undone. Another night, you might really, really enjoy teasing him about it, but you have something else on your mind tonight.

Your hand travels down his body to palm him through his pants, and he groans, bucking his hips against it involuntarily.

“Let me take care of that?” you offer, and he pulls away to raise an eyebrow at you.

Wordlessly, you guide him so he’s sitting on the couch, and then, without breaking eye contact, you drop to your knees. You watch as his eyes go wide and he swallows loudly. You don’t give him time to regain his composure, gently nudging his legs apart so you can place yourself there comfortably.

“Fuck,” he repeats as your hands travel over his thighs before unbuckling his belt.

He lifts himself off the couch so you can slide down his pants and underwear, and that leaves him in his naked glory. And boy, is he glorious, dick standing erect and proud, precum already dripping from the tip. You suppose it’s been a while since the last time he had any sort of intercourse, and so you decide that you will do everything that’s in your power to make it worth his while.

You do your best to maintain eye contact with him while you lean forward to gently take in the head of his cock, wrapping your red lips around it as your hand grips the base.

“Ah,” he gasps, and you wonder if he gets loud during sex.

You hope he does.

You mostly tease him at first, running your tongue over the tip, and you feel his hand grabbing the back of your head gently. He doesn’t try to control your pace or to push you down. He seems to just be anchoring himself as he lets you do whatever you want. Glancing up, you see that he’s thrown his head back and his mouth is hanging open, letting out quiet moans that sometimes get high-pitched.

For some reason, the sight of his exposed throat turns you on impossibly. You slide a hand down your body to try to get some relief as well, and you moan loudly when your fingers finally find your clit. The vibrations have Jin push his hips up as his hands tighten on you. A second later, his eyes snap open.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, “I don’t mind but— Do you have a condom somewhere?”

He hesitates, then reaches for the coffee table. He opens the drawer, rummages through it quickly, and finds what he’s looking for.

“Taehyung said it was good to have them all over the house, just in case,” he feels obligated to explain to you, even while he struggles to open it and to put it on.

Well, you owe Taehyung one, you decide, but now really is not the time to discuss that, so you pull him down for quick kiss before he can lose himself in his ramble.

“Want you now,” you tell him, and it sounds like an order.

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, pulling you back up onto the couch.

Your panties are soon gone, and he spreads your legs open with utmost care. Even if you’re pretty sure he could just slide right in, with how wet you are, he pushes a long finger inside you, then another.

“You’re so wet for me,” he marvels. “So wet, and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much yet,” you moan. “There’s still work to be done here.”

His eyes are full of love when he looks at you, taking in your body, now completely naked and offered. Just for him.

“Oh, I’ll do it. Don’t you worry about that.”

You’re about to call him out for his cockiness when he lines his cock with your entrance, tip rubbing against your folds, and you close your mouth instead, wisely choosing not to provoke him when he could so easily make you pay for it by making you wait. Except it seems he’s just as impatient as you, because he pushes himself inside you without pause.

You moan and shift to accommodate the stretch, and Seokjin goes still on top of you.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You’re satisfied with the strain in his voice, like knowing you’re not the only one to be so affected here.

“Hmm,” you hum. “Can you— move? A little?”

He pulls out a little, experimentally, and you moan louder than before. It takes you a few minutes to figure out the pace, as your hips keep moving, desperately searching for more friction, but they’re not unpleasant, filled with kisses, sweet nothings and the feeling of his warm skin against yours. In those moments, you feel like you’re discovering him all over again, and you find yourself enjoying that more than you can say.

Finally, you find yourselves, and the sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with your loud, high-pitches moans, and Seokjin’s — softer, quieter, but definitely there. You meet each of his thrusts, with one hand between the two of you to rub against your clit. When you first clench around him, he finally lets out a moan that’s as loud as yours.

“Fuck, fuck, fffuck,” he says, head falling against you, cheek pressed against your collarbone. “If you— If you do that again I’ll— Wait, please, wait, wanna— wanna cum with you—”

You arch your back, your nipples grazing against his chest, and force up the pace of your hips. Jin is moving incoherently, begging into your neck, and you want to give him exactly what he’s asking for. When you clench around him again, it’s with your orgasm. It’s all it takes to push him over the edge as well, but you barely feel his hips stutter into you, completely taken over by your own pleasure.

It takes you a little while to come back down from your high, and when you do, you meet his eyes. They’re soft and gentle, and, more than anything that’s happened until then, they make you melt.

“Hey,” he whispers, “you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, more than okay, in fact. You?”

“More than okay, too,” he says as a lazy smile spreads across his features.

“Good. That’s good.”

Pillow talk is not your forte.

“Hey,” Jin says, coming to rest his forehead against your shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You chuckle.

“I think I’m in love with you too.”

“That’s good,” Jin says, but his voice sounds choked up, raspy, and you know he’s probably blushing. So you don’t add anything, just run your fingers over his scalp, the nape of his neck, down his back. Let him know you’re here, that you’ve got him, that you’re not going anywhere.

“Are you— are you staying the night?” he asks.

“Sure, unless you’re kicking me out.”

His arms tighten around you possessively.

“I would never.”

It takes a little longer before Jin manages to get the two of you off the couch to go get cleaned up, and then into bed, but of that night, there is not a second that you would call unnecessary or superfluous. Not one.

Every single one of them, every moment you spend with Jin on that first night, are essential, and you could not pick one of them to take back.

March 14th

The bell chimes happily when you walk into the shop, and even though Jin is busy with another customer, his eyes immediately find you. It’s something simple, yet it’s something you love about him. The way he always seems to find you, and the pleasant warmth that fills you without fail when you see him. You’ve been told that it was just the high of the first months of a relationship, not to get too used to it but you hope that, even if it dims, it won’t go away completely.

“Hey, Jin, your ears are turning really red. Why are your ears turning red?”

You laugh while your boyfriend turns to shoot a furious look at Yoongi. He’s sitting in your spot, in the back of the shop, and he’s looking smug. That comment of his has become a pretty common thing to hear whenever you walk in, or just when Jin and you are speaking. To be completely honest, you’re not too mad about it. Jin is good at acting like you have no effect on him, but the blush betrays him, and it’s been both cute and useful to see what actually gets to him, or bothers him sometimes.

“I’ll kick you out of my shop if you keep that up!” Jin shouts at him. “Don’t think I won’t!”

But Yoongi just chuckles into his mug, clearly not taking him seriously — and he’s probably right for that.

“So, do you know what today is?” Jin asks nonchalantly after he’s turned back to face you, gesturing for Jungkook take over with the other customer.

Your eyes widen in horror.

“Please don’t tell me you want us to celebrate our one month anniversary. I haven’t planned anything for that.”

Jin rolls his eyes.

“I would argue that our one-month anniversary is tomorrow, if we’re being precise, because that’s when we, um, really talked about it.”

He’s not wrong. It had been a pleasant thing, to wake up in his arms the morning after, to the sensation of his lips gently kissing your neck, and an even nicer thing to take your breakfast with him. You couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. It had just been what had absolutely and irrevocably sealed the  deal for you. You knew it hadn’t been a mistake. You wanted to be with him.

“Hmm, but there is still some sort of anniversary to be celebrated tonight then,” you say, leaning over the counter. “I’m sure I could prepare something for that.”

His ears and neck flush, and Yoongi has the delicacy of not pointing it out this time.

“That’s not— That’s not what I’m talking about! Today is the white day.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“That’s when boys are supposed to give chocolates back to the girls they like,” Jin elaborates.

“But I didn’t give you chocolates,” you say.

“No, but you’re still the one who— Yoongi, I swear to God— You know. You’re the one who took the first step.”

Despite his recent outburst, it’s obvious that he feels embarrassed and vulnerable in that moment. You’d kind of gathered that he really regretted not asking you out before Sungho had, but you had never thought that it was actually an issue.

“I’m really happy I did,” you tell him quietly. He’s not fond of PDA, but you still allow your fingers to brush against his. That feels discreet enough.

“I know,” he says, and there’s so much love in his eyes when he looks at you that it’s a real miracle that you don’t melt into a puddle right then and there. “But I still—” He sighs. “You’re really ruining my plans. This was meant to go over smoothly.”

“Sorry,” you apologize with a wide grin while he picks something up from behind the counter.

“There,” he mumbles, handing you the box.

You open it, genuinely curious. You feel the eyes of everyone else in the shop — Yoongi, Namjoon, Jungkook and, of course, Jin — on you, and you want to tell most of them off, but you suppose that since this is where most of your relationship development happened, they’re kind of part of the story too.

The box is filled with chocolates shaped like roses.

“I know it’s not much,” Jin is quick to say, “but I just wanted to—”

“Jin?” you interrupt him.

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

His eyes go wide, and then he sighs, but he can’t force away the smile that’s forcefully making its way on his lips.

“Well, if you absolutely have to—”

But he doesn’t protest when you pull him over the counter to kiss him, hands gently closing over your shoulders. He even brings you back for a second, even briefer kiss, and there’s something fierce in his eyes then. He superbly ignores the cheers that come from your friends in the room.

“I have to warn you, you’re never getting rid of me now,” he says, and it’s light-hearted, but you know there’s a lot of truth behind those words.

“Good,” you simply reply. “I wouldn’t want that for the world.”

He looks like he wants to add something to that, but he chokes on the words, and he falls quiet instead. It’s just as good, really.

There are some things you don’t need words for.

Some things that can be expressed just as easily with a box full of rose-shaped chocolates.

[matwith1t]

A/N: Hiiii!! More writing! Yay! This was a fun one!! It’s 98% fluff with 2% angst, but I promise it has a happy ending 🙂 Thank you all so much for your encouraging words!! I cherish them all & hold them close to my heart 🥺 Any and all feedback is appreciated! I hope you enjoy !

Summary: From your first date, first kiss, first hockey game of Mat’s, first I love you, to your first fight…You always learned something new about him.

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: One swear word & brief allusion to smut // WC: 11.6K // Fluff & Slight Angst

It was your first date.

A blind date.

The nerves got the best of you, so you arrived at the coffee shop early. What if the subway line you had to take was late? What if you missed a stop? What if you took a wrong turn down a street? Twenty minutes might be a bit too early, but it was the only way to ease your anxiety.

You don’t even know the last time you were on a blind date. Your friend, Hayden, had set it up. After a drunken confession over a shared bottle of wine, you admitted you were scared that you were running out of time to find your person. And that’s when an idea clicked in her mind.

She said she had a friend––Mat––who was tired of flings and wanted to really date someone. You waved her off, the idea of being set up seemed too middle school for you. But after she showed you a picture of him…you gave her the go ahead to send him your number.

She contacted Mat, and he said that he was all in for a blind date with you.

You tapped your foot on the pavement as you stood outside of the coffee shop entrance you agreed to meet at. After scrolling through your social media a few times, you clicked on your messages. Were you at the right coffee shop? You clicked on his name, and triple checked that you had the correct place and time.

“Uh, Y/N?”

At the sound of your name, you peered up from your phone and saw a nervous looking boy––a boy you recognized from the picture your friend showed you on a drunken Friday night. With a nervous breath, you offered him a tight lipped smile, “Mat?”

He visibly relaxed at your confirmation that he didn’t walk up a stranger. He ran a hand through his messy styled hair and easily smiled, “Yeah, I––Hi.”

“Hi,” you let out a small laugh.

Oh my God, this is so awkward, you thought to yourself. This was why blind dates were only met for middle school. A blind date was not meant for anytime after that.

While you hadn’t even spent five minutes in his presence, your mind already jumped to the worst conclusion of this not working out as either of you planned. While dating might not work out, maybe you could get a friend out of this.

Mat took a step around you and opened the door, “Should we head in?”

With a nod, you thanked him for holding the door open. Walking in, you were instantly engulfed with the smell of freshly ground coffee beans and the sound of hardworking espresso machines. The shop was bustling with city goers, but there were enough empty tables that you didn’t feel the need to rush to save one. You let out another deep breath as you felt Mat’s shoulder slightly brush yours as he stood next to you in line.

“What are you getting?” He looked down at you.

You tilted your head as you read the menu board that hung behind the counter, “Maybe one of their house lattes?” You then moved your gaze to look up at him, “What about you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, eyes not nearly looking at the menu for as long as you did to decide on a drink, before his eyes landed back on you with a smile, “An iced coffee.”

His smile was infectious. His smile was pretty. And you felt your stomach twist in knots the more you paid attention to the way his smile affected you.

“Also, you can––uh––get whatever you want,” his checks turned a bright shade of red as he stumbled over his words, “I’ll buy.”

You shook your head, but before you could say anything, the two of you were at the front of the line.

Mat was first with his order––an iced coffee––and then he turned his body to look at you, “And whatever she’s having.” You smiled in appreciation and gave the barista your order. You were about to move out of the way, and wait for Mat to be done paying, but he asked you another question, “Do you want anything to eat?”

You felt bad having him pay for coffee and something to eat. It was a coffee shop in New York after all, but the sound of your stomach making a high-pitched grumble sold you out. You felt yourself grow hot with embarrassment, and asked for a croissant. Mat tacked on two croissants to the order and swiped his credit card as if the steep price for two coffees and two pastries in a New York coffee shop wasn’t a concern.

From the two details Hayden had told you––which were his name and age––you knew he was young like you. If you wanted to splurge on a day like this, you needed to budget ahead of time correctly. While you were appreciative of Mat paying for you…it was a blind date. And you didn’t expect him to put so much effort into it

Maybe he budgeted his money better than you.

With your croissants on a plate, the two of you found a place to sit by a window. You tapped your fingers on the wooden table top. It was still awkward, you thought to yourself, as you counted down the seconds until your drinks came. Mat seemed to feel the awkwardness in the air too, but he braved his way through the weird atmosphere.

“So…” he nodded his head for ten seconds straight, eyes darting around the coffee shop, as he cut through the silence, “Where are you from?”

You answered his question, rambling a bit to fill the void, and then asked him the same question. It went back and forth like that for maybe thirteen minutes until your drinks were brought out to your table. Thankful that you had something to sip on if there was a lull in conversation, you circled your hands around the hot mug.

But the conversation never hit a lull; it was fun not knowing anything about Mat before you met him. And he seemed to enjoy it as much as you. You struggled to drink your coffee in a reasonable amount of time to save it from growing cold because of how much the two of you consecutively talked.

“So what do you do?” You took a sip of your lukewarm coffee.

He raised an eyebrow, “What do I do?”

You hummed a simple mhm at him as you swallowed down your drink, “Like, for work,” you set your mug down on the table and leaned forward, “What’s your job?”

“My job…” Mat muttered under his breath as he leaned back on the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes flickered down to see the slight flex of his muscles, and when you reconnected eyes with him, he smirked, “I play hockey.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together, “Hockey?”

Mat nodded his head, the smirk on his face growing, as he kept silent. The two of you had been doing so well in avoiding silences, but you caught yourself in one. So, you took a sip of your drink, in hopes he would say something more about his job. But he continued to confidently sit back in his seat.

Not enjoying the sudden awkwardness, you added a futile point to your conversation, “I––I have some friends who play hockey. Only on the weekends though. Kind of like a rec league? Or just a pick up game––”

If you thought his smile was infectious, all you had to do was hear his laugh.

It was soft, a little more high-pitched than you imagined, as he slightly shook his head back and forth. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as his eyes shut for a few seconds. As his soft laughter settled down, he scratched the bridge of his nose, eyes glimmering under the natural light that shined through the window next to him.

It was a glimpse into how he sounded when he felt happy. And you wanted nothing more than to hear a real––eyes screwed shut tight, nose wrinkling, head tilted back––laugh from him.

Mat mirrored you; he leaned slightly forward, forearms resting against the table as his smile slowly transformed back into a smirk, “I play professional hockey.”

Professional hockey…But he looked so young. The only rational explanation you could think of in your head was that he played hockey for a minor league team in New York.

With a nod of your head, you took another sip of your drink. The hour you had spent with Mat flowed easily, but for some reason, finding out that he was some sort of professional athlete produced a feeling of insecurity inside of you.

You took another long sip of your coffee.

“You’ll have to come to a game,” Mat’s confident voice dropped to a hesitant whisper, “If you want to.”

Setting the empty mug down on the table, you bit the inside of your cheek to conceal your growing smile. You let out a silent deep breath, collecting your thoughts, because if he wanted you to come watch him play, that meant he had to see some sort of future with you.

Whether the future be two and a half weeks, five months, or four years…He saw you in his life somehow.

“I’d like to see you play,” you assured him.

His eyebrows animatedly rose up, almost getting lost under the loose strands of hair that fell a little too perfectly against his forehead, and smiled wide, “Awesome, that’s––Okay, yeah, I’ll text you about it.”

Neither of you could hide the smiles on your face.

After sitting at the table with empty coffee mugs for quite some time, the only reason why the date ended was because Mat said he had to go dog sit for one of his teammates. Regretfully, both of you brought your empty coffee mugs to the counter, and walked out the door with smiles, laughter, and a promise from Mat to text you about attending one of his games.

As you made the journey back to your place, you didn’t know the last time you felt this giddy after a first date. While you learned surface level information about him; you also learned the sound of his laugh, and that he wasn’t too fond of dogs.

And you couldn’t wait to learn more about him.

–––

It was your first kiss with Mat.

A nervous first kiss.

It came close to a month after your first date, and admittedly, it was probably the longest you had waited for a first kiss, but Mat had a streak of away games that kept him from New York and the two of you had only hung out in public. While a first kiss walking through a park had been romanticized one too many times, it would have left you in a daydream––but whenever it felt right––someone always came up to Mat to talk about hockey. While he wasn’t approached in public often, it seemed like whenever he was, it ruined the moment.

Maybe it was a sign he would be better off as just a friend.

But that thought always disappeared whenever he gently slid his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers and giving your hand a squeeze. And just like the first time you held his hand, there was an explosion of ecstasy in your chest.  A good tightness in your chest you felt whenever he held your hand.

You were at a bar with Mat and some friends, your fingers interlocked and resting on his thigh, pressed close up to his side. A smile lit up your face whenever you felt his chest lightly shake with laughter or his thumb softly graze the top of your hand. The only part of the night where your smile tugged downward was when everyone decided to call it an early night.

As if Mat felt the same disappointment, he whispered in your ear, “I’ll take you back to your place.”

You wished he would ask if you wanted to get ice-cream at the parlor a few blocks over, or ask if you wanted to stay at the bar, but you knew he had an early morning tomorrow. All you wanted was to spend more time with him, and if him making sure you got home alright was how you spent more time with him, you would take it.

After tabs were paid off and goodbyes were said, everyone was off in their separate directions. Except for you and Mat.

Surprisingly, the streets weren’t that crowded for it being the early evening in New York, but Mat tugged you close to his side; fingers still intertwined. The walk to the subway was full of quiet conversation of observations the two of you made down the street with a few small laughs. And when you were on the platform for your train, your laughs turned to whispers.

“If Beau was a little too much, let me know,” Mat leaned down to whisper softly in your ear, “and I’ll beat him up.”

A soft chuckle left your lips as you leaned your head against his bicep, shaking your head, you looked up at him, “You said that last time. He’s nice, I like him.”

Mat hummed, “Sometimes his teasing goes a little too far.”

His voice was light-hearted, just like how Tito sounded when he teased Mat whenever he whispered in your ear throughout the evening, but there was an underlying uncertainty in his voice. Almost like he was concerned that if Tito teased you too much you wouldn’t want to spend anymore time with Mat. But that was quite the opposite. Whenever a best friend poked fun at the other, it was almost always meant in good nature, and it also showed that Mat confided his feelings about you with Tito.

You mirrored his soft hum, and squeezed his hand, as you shrugged your shoulders, “I wouldn’t mind more of his teasing,” you smiled up at him, hoping that he caught the hidden meaning behind your sentence; you seeing a future together with more interactions with his best friend. “My friends are the same way.”

Mat raised his eyebrows, and you ducked your chin into your chest out of nervousness at his next words, “So is that our next date? I meet your friends?”

Next date.

The thought of going on countless more dates with Mat caused an electric jolt to shoot down your spine. And when you flicked your eyes up to stare into his, you felt as if you were caught in one of your dreams. His eyes were already gazing on you in awe, with the corners of his lips lightly tuned upward into a soft closed lipped smile.

He moved his head closer to yours, it was just a centimeter of movement, but you noticed it. And you held your breath as you looked down at his lips, hoping that you would finally have your first kiss with Mat.

But like all of the people who interrupted the two of you whenever you were on a walk in the park, the harsh breaking sounds of the subway coming to a halt caused Mat to move away and stand up straight.

Mat cleared his throat and you let out a sigh at the ruined moment.

The train stopped, you waited until people were off the train car, and Mat swiftly tugged on your hand to make sure that the train didn’t escape before you had the chance to get on. The train car was empty, also a very rare sight on a still relatively early evening in New York. You made your way to sit on one of the empty seats, but your stretched out arm snapped back into Mat’s chest as he held tight onto your hand.

“Do you not want to sit?” You looked up at him as he gripped onto the pole in the center of the subway car.

Mat shook his head as he dropped your hand. But you didn’t have time to be sad at the loss of contact for long because Mat curled his arm around your waist, “Too dirty,” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled you close to his chest, “And we’ve been sitting all night, kinda wanna stand.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pressed your palms flat against his chest as the train jolted to a start.

Standing in silence with Mat on the empty subway was more relaxing than it should have been. Because while the unpleasant sound of the subway on the tracks echoed through the tunnel, with your head resting on Mat’s chest, all you heard was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You could feel yourself dozing off as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your hip, but your senses heightened when he trailed his hand slowly up your back. The feeling of his fingertips making contact with your spine caused goosebumps along your skin. And you swore your breathing stopped when you felt his hand trail up your neck, his fingers cradling the back of your head with his thumb on your cheek.

Hesitantly––hoping that you knew what was to come in the next few moments––you looked up at Mat through your eyelashes.

His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he stared down at you with a crease in between his eyebrows. With your hands still firmly placed on his chest, you could feel the deep breath he let out through his nose.

“I like you,” Mat blurted out.

You let out a breathy chuckle at his admission. You knew that he liked you by the way he always held your hand and how he liked to call you more than text, but to hear him verbalize his feelings felt nice.

You bit the inside of your cheek to contain your smile as you saw his head move a centimeter closer to yours, “I like you, too.”

Mat glanced at your lips, and then at your eyes, and even with a slight nod of your head, Mat still hesitated as if he was waiting for you to pull away. But you weren’t going to pull away––you didn’t want to pull away––because you had been waiting for this moment where your heart hammered in your chest, and your breath got caught in your throat.

And as you felt him let out another shaky breath, you closed your eyes and leaned up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. His lips touched yours gently at first, a tender brush, as if he anticipated being electrocuted by a spark. But when nothing happened, Mat tucked his lower lip between yours in another gentle, but lingering kiss.

You had plenty of first kisses before in your life; there had been first kisses that had been harder, more rushed, more chaste…but never had you felt a first kiss that was so simple and right than you did with Mat. Your lips were merely pressed together, but you could still feel him everywhere.

There was something so innocent about the kiss, as if both of you were afraid to mess up.

The two of you separated just as softly as you’d come together, just enough room to where you could peer up at him and still feel his breath across your face. Then the two of you laughed. Shy, whispery giggles that had more to do with nerves rather than humor. And as the two of you continued to stare into each other’s eyes, it was as if instinct kicked in and Mat’s lips were back on yours.

This time, your lips met with more certainty, eager to feel. A soft sigh escaped your lips when Mat parted his lips further and you felt the tip of his tongue. The hand that had previously cupped your cheek, was now on around your lower back as he pressed you close to him. And to keep yourself steady as the subway car went around a bend, one of your hands gripped his shirt as the other clutched onto his bicep.

As the two of you shared your first kiss on an empty New York subway, you learned a few more things about Mat. You finally learned what his lips felt like pressed against yours, and that he was absolutely terrible at navigating the subway after the two of you missed your stop.

With the way he made you feel during your first kiss, you couldn’t wait to feel that spark of joy again.

–––

It was your first hockey game.

Your first New York Islanders hockey game where you knew a player on the ice…and more importantly, where a player was your boyfriend.

“Oh he will love it,” Hayden smirked at the #13 jersey you wore as the two of you walked with the crowd toward the arena, “I still can’t believe you thought he was a minor league hockey player.”

You lightly knocked your shoulder against hers as you let out a small laugh, “How was I supposed to know he played for the National Hockey League?” You raised your eyebrows at her, “You literally only told me his name and that we were around the same age when you set us up.”

She tipped her head back in laughter, “I thought you paid attention to sports!”

“I do!” You mirrored her smile as the two of you took out your tickets to be scanned, “But you can’t see what they look like under their helmets clearly.”

After the two of you passed security, you found yourself amongst a sea of white, navy blue, and orange as you walked to your seats, “I still can’t believe he didn’t tell you he played for the Isles.” She snickered, “He has way too big of an ego to let that slide.”

You felt your stomach churn with embarrassment as your whole body heated up.

While Mat said that he played professional hockey on your first date, he conveniently left out that he played for the New York Islanders. It was a week and a half after your first date when you found out that detail. Mat was away for a few road games, and as the two of you were texting, he casually slipped in that you should watch the game on T.V.

You thought he was joking because you didn’t think that they broadcasted minor league hockey games on television. But he called you to give you his NHL TV login and informed you to tune in at 7 PM for the New York Islanders game. Again, you thought he was joking, but you tuned in anyway.

The shock you felt through your body was unlike anything else you felt when you heard the announcers talk about how amazing Mat Barzal has played for years as an Islander. And when the camera focused in on him for a few seconds, you scrambled to text Hayden for confirmation.

But now, nearly three months into your relationship, you had found a time where your schedule worked with Mat’s to go to one of his games. He asked if you wanted to sit with his teammate’s significant others, but you said you would be more comfortable with Hayden for your first hockey game of his.

As the two of you sat down a few rows behind the Islanders bench, you tugged the sleeves of your #13 Barzal jersey over your hands. He’s your boyfriend, you thought to yourself as you felt self-conscious wearing his jersey, no need to be nervous…other people are wearing his jersey too.

But those other people didn’t share intimate moments with him. Other people didn’t know how his calloused hands felt as they delicately touched your skin. Other people didn’t know he slightly snored when he napped.

Sure, other people idolized him as a hockey player, but you were always in awe of him when you learned a specific trait about him that he didn’t share with the rest of the world.

“Do you see him?” Hayden leaned over to speak in your ear as she pointed to Mat skating on the ice, “Right there.”

With a hockey stick in his hands, Mat skated in circles to practice his puck movement. The face you admired so much was hidden under his helmet, but you could clearly see his number and last name on his jersey.

You smiled wide and nodded your head, “This is exciting.”

Hayden laughed at your eagerness to have the game start as you practically bounced in your seat. Soon enough, the players finished their warm ups and skated toward the bench. One by one, they hopped off the ice.

“I’m gonna call out his name,” Hayden smirked as she cupped her hands around her mouth.

But with wide eyes and embarrassment already in the pit of your stomach, you pulled her hands away from her mouth, “Don’t you dare––”

“Looks like he’s already found you,” Hayden’s smirk widened as she waved her hand at who you presumed was Mat.

You whipped your head around to the bench and saw Mat, with his helmet off, awkwardly half-turned around on the bench as he sat next to a number #18 and #27. And like every time you saw him, a smile that you couldn’t contain instantly made its way onto your face. You picked up your hand and animatedly waved at him with a beaming smile.

Mat lowered his head for a moment, hair slightly falling onto his forehead, and when he picked his head up to wave at you, you saw his cheeks twinged with pink coloring.

Feeling too excited watching your boyfriend play live for the first time tonight, you couldn’t help but turn your shoulder toward him as you showed off the #13 on your sleeve. When you dropped the hand that stretched out the sleeve to show him his number, you expected to see a smile as wide as yours on his face. But instead, you saw his eyes wide open and mouth formed in a straight line, jaw slightly clenched, as his chest expanded; taking in a deep breath.

Confused, you tilted your head and looked at Hayden, “Is he not happy that I’m wearing––”

Letting out her loudest laugh of the night, Hayden bent forward and clutched her stomach, “Oh, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Hayden had known Mat longer than you, so you knew that she knew things about him that you weren’t privy to yet. But her comment intrigued you.

“What do you mean?”

She just shook her head as her shoulders still slightly shook.

You turned back around in hopes to see Mat, but when your eyes landed on the bench, you saw Mat being jostled between the two players he sat next to. And upon further inspection, you read the last names on the jersey’s; Beauvillier and Lee.

Lee was still elbowing Mat when Tito turned around with a wicked smile. He cupped a hand around his mouth, “Nice jersey! He loves it!”

Tito’s voice fell a little flat among the crowd that started to fill their way to their seats, but you still heard him. And his comment only spurred on more laughter from Hayden.

At this point in your relationship with Mat, you were used to Tito’s teasing. And in the time you had been in the arena, you had grown accustomed to Hayden’s laughs. You didn’t think too much of their actions, your mind still wrapped around how all you wanted was for the game to begin.

And soon enough, the game started.

You were on the edge of your seat for the entire first period, clutching Hayden’s hand anytime Mat was shoved from behind or slammed into the boards. The second period was just as thrilling, and even though a penalty was called on Mat, he caught your eye briefly before he sat down in the penalty box. And the third period…While you stood up and cheered with the rest of the arena whenever the Islanders scored, no amount of excitement in the first two periods felt as exhilarating as when you watched Mat score.

With Hayden, you leaped up and hugged her tight as you cheered with a blinding smile.

“He scored!” You held her at arm's length away before turning your attention back on the ice.

His line-mates gathered him up in a hug, patting his helmet, and then he skated out with a wide smile. Mat was on his way to high-five his teammates on the bench, but before he held his glove out for them, he quickly pointed in the general direction of where you were sitting.

To anyone, it looked like he was pointing toward the Islanders bench, or even at the fans. And while there was an increase of cheers from your section at Mat’s little call out, you knew he was pointing out one specific fan in the crowd.

After the third period ended––with the Islanders winning by three––fans could either be heard still celebrating, or seen walking up the aisles to beat the traffic. But you and Hayden stayed in your seats, and especially paid attention to Mat who was out on the ice giving a post-game interview. His voice boomed through the arena, but all you could focus on was his heavy breathing and how his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.

With most of your section cleared out, you and Hayden walked down to the row right behind the glass that was closest to the ice. Not one to shy away from being heard, Hayden pounded her fist against the glass and shouted your boyfriend’s name, “Mat!”

She continued to pound on the glass and call out his name until his post-game interview ended. And when the camera cut, Mat’s eyebrows automatically rose as he skated toward the two of you with a smile.

Through the glass, you waved at him, “You played so well! So amazing––And that goal?! You were so incredible.” His wide smile slowly transformed into a smirk as his eyes darkened just a bit, “That was so much fun.”

Mat chuckled and shook out his hair, “‘I’m glad you had a good time.”

“You two!” Hayden called out. You and Mat both broke eye contact with each other to see your mutual friend standing a few rows up with her phone pointed at the two of you, “Smile! It’s your first hockey game together.”

You let out a soft laugh as you turned around and leaned your back against the glass, standing up on your tiptoes so you didn’t look shorter next to Mat who wore skates. And as if he was physically next to you, and not separated by plexiglass, you leaned your head towards him and smiled wider than you had ever in your life.

After Hayden finished taking more than enough photos to commemorate your first hockey game of Mat’s, you spun around to face him again. From behind, you heard an usher say that it was time for fans to leave the arena, but you clearly heard Hayden say, I’m with her and that’s her boyfriend.

You rolled your eyes at Hayden and scratched the bridge of your nose as you stared at Mat through the glass.

“I need to change,” He chuckled, “But I’ll meet you outside? Hayden knows where the exit is.”

You nodded your head vigorously, “That sounds good, yeah,” the smile you had when you took your picture together never left your face, “I still can’t believe how well you played, it was––Oh my God. I can’t wait to come to more games.”

The smirk Mat had on his face as you praised his performance morphed into a faint smile as he poked the glass with his glove where your face was, “Keep the compliments coming when I’m off the ice.” You rolled your eyes at him as he waved at you, “I’ll see you soon.”

You raised your hand to touch the cold glass, “Bye,” you whispered as your fingertips slowly trailed down the glass as you watched Mat skate away backwards.

Feeling like you were on top of the world, you spun around with a lovesick smile on your face, ready to meet your boyfriend at the exit. Walking up the aisle and out of the arena, Hayden sent you the pictures she took of you and Mat. And as you waited by the exit Mat said Hayden knew, you set your lock screen and home screen to one of the pictures taken just twenty minutes ago.

When you heard the familiar laugh of your boyfriend, your ears perked up and you put your phone in your bag. And when you saw him walking out in his game day suit with Tito––who shoved Mat’s shoulder––for the hundredth time that day, you smiled.

Standing up from the stone ledge you sat on with Hayden, you rocked on your heels as you waited for Mat to come closer. And once he wasn’t too far away, you sped walked over to Mat as Hayden walked more slowly behind you as she snorted at your eagerness.

While you found it fun to watch Mat skate around the ice having the time of his life, there was nothing you enjoyed more than hugging him. You almost didn’t see his glowing smile––one that showcased all of his teeth––before you barreled into him.

Arms wrapped tightly around his waist, you hugged him impossibly close to you, “That was––Ah!––I’m still not over how fun that was,” you pressed a kiss to his neck before tilting your head up to look at him, “I know I already said how good your goal was so good––And I’ll stop after this––But really, that was so cool how you skated around those defenders and––”

Both Tito and Hayden’s laugh caused you to stop complimenting Mat on his goal. You caught a glimpse of Mat’s glare on his two friends, and then turned your head over your shoulder to see them hanging off each other as they laughed. You felt Mat’s hands tighten around your waist, the tips of his fingers felt like they burned a hole through your clothes and scorched your skin.

“Oh don’t––Don’t mind us,” Hayden wiped a few tears away from the corners of her eyes, “Please, carry on––”

You scrunched your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Barz, will––He’ll––” Tito’s face went red as he found it harder to breathe through his laughter. But once he calmed down, he chuckled, “Don’t stop praising him, he loves it.”

Mat flipped off his friends as he raised his hand to where the 13 patch was on your shoulder. With a small smile, he tugged on your sleeve a few times, “Hayden, send me the pictures you took,” he yelled over to his still laughing friends before he pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

As the night continued on, the four of you celebrated the win and Mat’s goal with drinks at a bar. As you leaned your head on Mat’s shoulder, you learned how fun it was to attend one of his games. And you learned that the rush of joy you felt course through your veins when you saw Mat succeed was unparalleled to any feeling of happiness you had ever felt with a partner.

And late that night in Mat’s apartment, as your hands wandered through his hair, over his biceps, and across his chest…He trailed his lips across your cheek, down your neck, and down past the valley of your breasts…You also learned that Mat liked to be praised in more ways than one.

–––

It was your first I love you.

The first I love you that you said to a person where you felt the sensation of those words taking over every crevice of your body…but like your first date, those words made you anxious and light-headed at the thought of admitting it.

Love.

Love was a commitment; a feeling that shouldn’t be taken lightly when in relation to two people who mutually cared and respected each other. It was a word you cherished, a feeling you craved nothing more in the world; and it was exactly how you felt about Mat.

Eleven months into your relationship with Mat––that you didn’t even think would get this far––you knew you were in love with him. There were times the sentence almost slipped past your lips, and there were moments where you thought he would say it too…but like your first kiss, both of you were hesitant.

Since the day you met him, you learned something new about him each day, and you didn’t want to stop getting to know him.

“So, what are you doing with your break?” You spoke through your phone as you waited at a street corner for the light to change with a group of people.

Mat scoffed, “This is hardly a break,” he bitterly whispered into his phone, “Literally not even a five minute water break.”

You gripped the brown paper bag of small groceries in your hand as your heart ached at his exhausted voice. Mat explained to you that the Islanders were going through some sort of bootcamp to get them out of their losing slump. But the bootcamp was on top of their already packed schedule of games and practices.

“And they can do this?” The light changed and you moved with the crowd, “It doesn’t seem fair.”

Mat let out an exasperated breath, and you could picture him running a hand over his face, “I miss you.”

Him changing the subject wasn’t lost on you, but with the limited time Mat had and how drained he sounded, you knew better than to press the subject further.

“I miss you too,” you smiled softly as you dodged a few people walking down the opposite direction of you on the sidewalk, “I just bought stuff for dinner tonight though, so that’s––”

But your sentence was cut off as someone rudely knocked into your shoulder hard––Watch it, they sneered at you––and caused you to stumble into a few people walking next to you.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized to the people you crashed into. They smiled in appreciation, knowing full well that if it wasn’t for the person who bumped your shoulder, the accident would’ve been averted.

“What was that?”

Mat’s worn out voice from before disappeared as he now sounded on high alert.

“Nothing,” you let out a sigh, because while you knew it wasn’t your fault you stumbled into people, it still felt embarrassing, “But as I was saying, for dinner––”

“No, that––I heard someone yell at you,” Mat’s voice was low, insistent on what he heard on your end, “What happened? Are you okay?”

You sucked in a deep breath, “Yeah, someone just bumped into my shoulder.” Because while it was New York, and you had been bumped into plenty of times before, it had been a bit of a rough day. But you didn’t want that one thing to tip you over the edge, especially when you knew Mat was having it worse than you, “It’s fine, I’m fine. The eggs didn’t crack so it’s a win.”

Mat didn’t laugh at your attempt at a joke.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He paused before his voice dropped to an earnest whisper, “If you need me I can leave to come get you.”

“But practice––”

“No,” Mat cut you off, “If you need me I can leave.”

You thought about it. You thought hard about just waiting off in a park for Mat to come pick you up. But the subway station you needed to enter came into your eyesight. Even though he couldn’t see you, you shook your head, “I’m fine, I’ll just need a hug when I see you later.”

At that, Mat let out a breathy chuckle, “You and me both.”

You smiled, the familiar feeling of love that started with the squeeze of your heart spread through the rest of your body.

“Dinner at your place?”

“Yeah, my place tonight,” you answered him, “How much longer of this practice?”

You could hear the eye roll Mat gave off with his irritated voice, “Three fucking hours.”

Even though you weren’t a professional athlete, you rolled your eyes with him at how ridiculous all of the intense practice sounded, “As much as I want to keep talking with you,” you dreamily smiled to yourself because there was nothing you loved more than hearing Mat’s voice, “I know you said if players were late they have to run laps after practice.” You grimaced, “And I’m about to go under for the subway.”

Mat let out a sigh, he didn’t want to stop talking with you either, “Yeah…Running laps is the penalty.”

“You should be used to those.”

Mat scoffed at your comment, ”I’ll see you later at your place.”

“Mhm, bye Mat,” you hummed as you began to make your descent below ground, “I love you.”

“Wait, what––”

You ended the call and slid your phone into your bag as you took out your subway card. Easily, you swiped your card past tourists, and walked through the turnstile to the platform back to your place. While the rest of the day wasn’t on your side, the subway was, because your train pulled up right as you got to the platform.

While there were still seats available for you to sit in, you had grown accustomed to standing in the middle of the subway cart. You hooked your elbow around the pole, so that your hand wasn’t directly touching it, as you thought about the day on your way home.

It started off normal; waking up, getting ready for work, arriving at the office. But then small things started to happen; you forgot your laptop charger back at your apartment, someone had accidentally taken your lunch from the communal fridge because they thought it was theirs, and then someone spilled coffee on your freshly printed reports. But then the day got worse; Mat texted you saying he wouldn’t be done practice until late, your co-worker best friend said they were leaving the company for a new job, and then that stranger hit your shoulder.

But hearing Mat’s voice made your day a little better.

Knowing that he took time out of his grueling schedule to check in on you made your heart flutter even more with love.

Love.

Your eyes widened as the grip you had on the handle of the paper bag dropped. Your grocery bag fell to the ground just as fast as your heart. Because the last sentence you said to Mat replayed in your mind like a broken record.

I love you.

You didn’t even realize that you had said those words. You clutched those words close to your chest; held them so tight as if it was a secret Mat didn’t already know. And now all of a sudden…Your secret was out in the open.

The bile churning in your stomach caused your body to overheat and you wanted nothing more than to be out of the subway. You picked a loose piece of skin by your thumb so hard that it started to bleed. You swore under your breath as it began to sting, and curled your hand into a tight fist––with your thumb on the inside––to put pressure on the cut.

Unable to stand still with your anxiety, you got off a stop early and walked the rest of the way back to your apartment.

You had nearly walked into several people, almost walked across the street on a red light, and more or less banged your forehead against your front door. You thought you had unlocked the door, so when you turned the door handle, stepped forward, and walked into the wooden door…you saw that your keys had fallen to the ground.

Once you properly unlocked the door, you quickly walked into your apartment and hastily set the grocery bag down on the island. With shaking hands, you buried your face into them and let out a muffled whine. Because how could you let those words out so casually? How could you have been so careless?

Mat had three more hours left of practice. And that left you with three hours in your apartment alone.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at your phone to see if he was still coming over. So you cleaned. You changed out of your work clothes––into a pair of athletic shorts and one of Mat’s Islander shirts––and deep cleaned as much of your apartment as you could.

And it was when you were bent sideways, windex and paper towel in hand, as you scrubbed the inside of your microwave that you heard a key in your door. You felt your heart freeze and you scrubbed the microwave even harder.

The creek of the door echoed through your modestly sized one bedroom apartment just as loud as your heartbeat pounded in your ears. The door shut the same time you heard the thump of his practice bag hit the hardwood floor.

And if you listened closely, you could hear him let out the same anxious deep breath as you.

Mat ever so slowly made his way out of the little hallway, and when you saw him appear in front of you––still bent at your awkward angle––it was as if you saw him in a different way.

Mat inhaled deeply, and then in one breath, his shoulders relaxed as he smiled at you, “I love you.”

You stared into his eyes enough times to know they were hazel, but where he stood in your kitchen, his eyes were dark brown. They weren’t illuminated with flecks of gold or green like you had seen in the past, but they were warm and inviting as his eyes captivated you in a different way than ever before. You loved his eyes.

You ran your fingers through his hair enough times to memorize the feeling how soft it felt, but his hair was a little longer in the front than usual. And with him looking like he ran right off the ice to be with you, his loose strands of scraggly hair fell messily against his forehead. You loved the way his hair framed his face.

Everything about him…from the slight stubble on his face that came close to breaking the Islanders facial hair policy, to the way he never got mad at you when you stuck your cold feet under his warm legs when you sat on the couch together. From his annoying traits, to the quirks only you knew about him, you loved everything about him

You released a breath you didn’t know you held because this…this was what it felt like to feel in love. It was fresh and exciting with hearts pounding. It was desire pouring through veins. It was a give and take; intertwined lives.

As the two of you stood in your kitchen, you learned what it felt like to feel entirely at ease with your place in the universe. For better or for worse, love is learning everything there is to know about a person.

And you couldn’t wait to learn how he loved.

–––

It was your first real fight with Mat.

And it terrified you.

The day had felt odd from the start; your routine not flowing like usual. And as the day continued on, you didn’t know what caused the negative feeling in the pit of your stomach to grow with every hour that passed. And even at the end of the work day, when you were in your own apartment, the feeling still lingered.

Already in a bad mood, you should’ve known better than to turn on a hockey game. But you knew that seeing Mat, even if it was through a T.V. screen, would make you feel better. He always made you feel better.

But he played a careless game.

It wasn’t even that he was playing bad, because honestly, he was playing really well. By the end of the first period he had two assists and handled the puck well. When the second period came around, he had scored his own goal. But Mat being Mat…he let the goal get to his head. The newfound confidence he had led him to be more aggressive with the opposing team’s players and more mouthy with the referees.

And with only six minutes left in the third period––the Islanders trailing by a few points––Mat dropped his gloves and instigated a fairly bad altercation with another player. You turned the television off before you could see Mat skate away to the penalty box.

Around an hour later when Mat walked through your apartment door the two of you stared at each other. You were curled up on the couch with a book, and he stood at the opposite end of the couch in his game day suit. He squinted his discolored left eye, his swollen bottom lip was bruised red, and you saw a few dried spots of blood on his face.

Neither of you were in the best mood, but that still wasn’t an excuse. Maybe you each expected the other to comfort you on your bad days…but that wasn’t the case for either of you now.

“I wish you were more careful,” you whispered up at him. You were still on the couch and he stood stiffly at the opposite end from you, “I don’t get why you have to fight.”

Mat let out an irritated breath out through his nostrils, “Did you even watch the game?”

Stunned by his attitude, you shut your book and rolled your eyes, “Of course I did. But that doesn’t mean––”

“Then you should know why I got in a fight.”

With a scoff, you flung the blanket off you and stood up. You mirrored his stiff position––jaw clenched, arms glued to your sides, and eyes narrowed in at him. The couch being the only barrier between the harsh words you threw at each other.

“That has nothing to do with what I said,” you huffed out, “I said you should be more careful––”

“I heard what you said,” Mat interrupted you with a snap in his tone as he shrugged off his suit jacket, “But I can’t control a fight if it happens.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I watched the game, Mat. I saw that you started it.”

“So it’s my fault?” He didn’t look at you as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, “Look, I don’t expect you to understand everything that goes on on the ice––”

“Excuse me?”

Mat rolled his eyes and his already irritable tone of voice sharpened, “Maybe if you cared a little less you wouldn’t be mad.”

His words felt like a punch to your gut. If you cared a little less. The squeeze of your heart was different than what it felt like when he told you he loved you a few months ago. Because instead of a warm tingly feeling that lifted you up, you felt a harsh burn throughout your body that made you want to shrivel up and hide.

Mat was one of the people you cared most about in the world.

But with both of your bad attitudes, like water and oil, your words caused more separation.

Your response was harsh––If I cared a little less, then who would care about you––and it sparked Mat’s short temper. He told you there were other people, people who wouldn’t make a big deal if he got in a fight because it was hockey. The yelling continued, intentional words of hurt shouted between the two of you. And soon enough, with both of you too blinded by rage, neither of you remembered why the argument even started in the first place.

“There are other people,” Mat spat out as he breathed heavily, “People who know me better. If we weren’t together, there would be other people who––”

His cruel words caused complete and utter devastation to flood your body. And you let the anger and agony of Mat’s ill fated words overtake every logical thought in your mind.

“If you don’t need me, then what are you waiting for?!” You threw your hands up as your shrill voice cracked as bad as you felt your soul shatter. Chin wobbling and chest heaving with erratic breaths, you repeated the question. Although this time, your voice was a whisper as the destruction of your words caught up to you, “What are you waiting for?”

Mat ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. And in a hurry, he scooped up his suit jacket from the couch and turned around. His heavy footsteps echoed through your silent apartment as you followed him to the door.

You choked on your words, “Where are you going?”

With his hand gripping the doorknob, you saw his shoulders tighten as he took a deep breath, “I can’t be with you.”

It felt as if the world froze, but at the same time, everything felt like it went too fast. A whirling sensation of grief caused you to lift your hand to cover your mouth. I can’t be with you.

You felt dizzy, unsure of if you wanted an answer to your question, “Are you…Does that mean just for now?” You bit your bottom lip as you tried your hardest to sniffle back your tears,”Or as in, you don’t want to be with me…anymore?”

Mat’s shoulders expanded in another deep breath as he mustered up the courage to turn around. Part of you wished he didn’t turn around because the heartbreak on his face looked just as bad as you felt. His chin wobbled like yours, lips pressed together in a firm line to keep his emotions to himself. His eyes were bloodshot, wide and scared like a child afraid of thunderstorms. And like yours, his chest heaved with small breaths, failing to keep his breathing under control.

“I don’t…” he shut his eyes tight and rubbed the corners of his eyes with his thumb and index finger, “Just for now.” Although his answer relieved only a sliver of anxiety you felt in the middle of your chest, it looked like he was still going to leave, “I need to leave before either of us say anything else we regret.”

Blinking rapidly, you still felt a few tears roll down your cheek as you nodded your head just as fast. You hugged your arms around your stomach and anxiously tapped your foot, “Will you…Are you coming back?”

A flash of pain crossed his face as he sucked in another deep breath, “Don't wait up for me.”

Before you could process his vague answer, his hand pressed down on the door handle and he was gone before he put his jacket back on. The door closed gently, but you would have rather it slammed shut so you would have that sound echoing in your mind instead of your insecurities.

Still hugging your stomach, you bit the inside of your cheek and slowly made your way back to the couch. As if it took all of your energy, you picked the blanket back up, wrapped it around your shoulders, and tucked yourself into the far corner. You sat alone, cold feet tucked in between the cushions, as you leaned your head back on the couch and let out a sob.

You purposefully said words to hurt him, and he had done the same with you. While the two of you had arguments before, they were never this blown out of proportion. There was never any screaming, there were never any tears, and neither of you had ever left the other’s place without reconciling. But with this fight…There was shouting, tears fell from both of you, and Mat left your place without a promise to come back.

You don’t know how many hours had passed as you stared at the wall ahead of you. But it was enough time for your cries to settle down and for the sound of a key to echo your silent home. And just like earlier in the night, Mat stood at the opposite end of the couch as you sat curled up in a blanket.

As the two of you stared at each other in silence, you learned what it felt like to sit in purgatory; not knowing if Mat was to come back that night or if you were to go days without seeing him. You learned what raw heartache truly felt like without his presence when all you wanted was a hug. And when he moved to sit next to you on the couch––finally receiving a hug from him––you also learned that he was just as sorry as you and didn’t mean any of the words he said.

You never wished to learn what a life without Mat truly felt like.

–––

The nerves you felt were worse than your first date with Mat. They had been with you for months, but they were now at an all time high that caused your hands to shake. And just like the nerves you felt before the blind date, they caused you to be twenty minutes early to the venue.

What if there was traffic? What if the piano player you and Mat hired brought the wrong sheet music? What if there weren’t enough seats? While you were twenty minutes earlier than your scheduled time that was designed to make sure you already arrived early to avoid any mishaps, it was the only way to ease your anxiety.

As you fiddled with the dress you always dreamed of wearing on this day, you inhaled a shaky breath as you stood in the private room alone. You needed space to concentrate on the fact that in less than a few hours you would have a different last name.

“Y/N?”

A light knock on the door and the call of your name caused you to whip your head. Hurriedly, you made your way to the door and leaned your shoulder against it as you made sure it was locked.

You cleared your throat, “Yeah?”

“It’s just me,” you saw the locked door handle jiggle as you heard a soft laugh on the other side, “Mat’s not with me.”

“I don’t trust you.”

You heard another laugh, this one more gentle, as Tito reassured you, “He knows about your superstitions, he wouldn’t try and sneak a glance.”

You thought about turning the best man at your wedding away, but the more you thought about it, the more you trusted him when he said Mat wasn’t with him. Mat knew you had certain superstitions you didn’t mess with; like lifting your feet up when you drove over railroad tracks or how you threw salt over your left shoulder if you spilled it.

He had learned all of those things about you.

The click of the lock coming undone caused you to hold your breath. Slowly, you cracked open the door and peered out the tiny slit with one eye. Tito had his face pressed close to the crack and you saw him close up. He didn’t pry the door like you thought, so hesitantly, you opened the door as you looked both ways to make sure your fiancé was nowhere in sight.

With the door fully open, Tito’s smile was brighter than you’d ever seen it before. He let out a low whistle, “Are you sure you I can’t marry you?”

Tito’s teasing had been a constant in the years of your relationship with Mat, and for better or for worse, it was about to extend into a lifetime.

You shoved his shoulder with your left hand, the engagement ring Mat picked out for you sparkling slightly in the light, “Shut up.”

“But really,” Tito slid both of his hands into the front pockets of his pants as he shook his head in disbelief, “You look beautiful. Mat won’t know what to do.”

“Hopefully he’ll say I do.”

Tito chuckled at your comment and then the two of you stood in silence. But when he slightly bowed his head and awkwardly rocked on his feet, you knew there was a purpose for his visit when he looked up at you.

“There is…Mat…” He took a deep breath, preparing himself for your answer, “He wants to talk with you.” Your eyes bulged out of your head as you immediately stepped back into the private room and went to slam the door shut. But Tito stuck his foot out in time to stop the door from slamming shut, “He’s not here––he’s still out there talking with people, but he heard you got here early early started sweating, and he just wants to hear your voice––”

You shook your head behind the door, “No.”

“C’mon,” Tito pleaded with you, “I’m sure it’ll calm you down to hear him––”

“What if he sees me?” You exasperatedly said, “Even if it was an accident. That would––”

“He won’t,” Tito’s voice held just as much firmness to it as he had confidence in his best friend, “He knows you too well to break your superstition.”

He knows you.

Hearing Mat’s voice would calm you down, but the anxiety of him accidentally seeing you before you walked down the aisle was too much. It was almost too much nervousness for you to handle on your own, so with a deep breath and a silent prayer that this wouldn’t blow up in your face, you whispered to Tito that Mat could talk to you.

Tito had spun around to retrieve Mat before you could finish your sentence. He rushed away from you, afraid you would back out on your word. But just as fast as Tito ran away, you slammed the door shut and relocked it.

You turned around and leaned your back against the door. Pinching the bridge of your nose to relieve some of the stress, you let out a deep breath. With only a few moments to yourself, you did a few breathing exercises before a shallow knock sounded from the other side of the door.

“Uh, Y/N?”

You could pick out his voice from anywhere, and you let out an audible sigh of relief, “Mat?”

He also let out a deep breath, and you could picture his shoulders relaxing at confirmation he didn’t walk up to an empty room. You turned around and placed your hand softly on top of the door handle; resting your forehead on the door you whispered, “I’m so nervous.”

“So am I,” Mat let out an airy laugh, “We’re the ones who decided to marry each other, yet we’re both a mess.”

You replicated his laugh and it went back to silence. You had spent years together with Mat, but no silence had ever been more poignant than this. You could hear his love, almost feel it, but you couldn’t see him. Not yet.

It was his trembling voice that broke through the silence, “Can I hold your hand?”

“Mat––”

“I’ll turn around,” he rushed out, knowing how strongly you felt about this superstition, “You can stay behind the door––just with your arm sticking out––We can both turn around so we make sure we don’t chance anything, because I––” he cut himself off, calming himself down with a single breath, “I really need a hug, but we can’t do that.” He let out another deep breath, “Please?”

You loved him more than anyone else in the world, and in turn, you would do anything for him; including holding his hand.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, and you were positive he could hear it, “Turn around.”

And with a click of the door unlocking, you opened it just a sliver of a bit open and turned around yourself. You stuck your left hand out for him, and in an instant, his hand found yours. You felt tears well up in your eyes out of happiness, because even though you could feel him now you still couldn’t believe you were going to spend the rest of your life with him.

You filled the silent void with your voice and added a futile point to the non-existent conversation. But you wanted him to know this about you, “I showed up to our first date twenty minutes early.”

Mat chuckled as he repeatedly stroked his thumb on top of your engagement ring, “I know.”

You squeezed his hand, “You know?”

Again, Mat let out another soft laugh, “I was thirty minutes early to our first date.” You felt your wide open mouth transform into a smile, “I was across the street and saw you waiting.” He lowered his voice, “I was so scared.”

You were convinced that was maybe the only thing he didn’t know about you, but he proved you wrong. Time and time again he proved himself to know you better than you knew yourself.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” you whispered.

“You know me better than anyone else.”

The way he continued to trace around your engagement ring caused your heart to squeeze; it only made you more excited for when there would be a second ring on your finger, “There has to be something.”

You felt your heart pound against your ribcage as a few beats of silence passed over. From his drawn out silence, you knew he had something, you knew he was debating on whether to tell you or not.

“The picture we took together at the first hockey game you came to,” you could hear the shy smile on his face, “I’ve kept it in my locker since then.”

You felt your heart melt and chin wobble; this was something new you were learning about him.

“And I…” He let out a nervous laugh, and ever since the first time heard the sound of it, it was infectious, “I have it with me now in the inner-pocket of my jacket.”

A lone tear trailed down your cheek as you tried to sniffle the rest of the tears you felt behind your eyes away. It was your wedding day, of course you were going to cry, but you didn’t think it would be this soon.

Mat’s hand briefly dropped yours as you heard a crinkle of photo paper being taken out of Mat’s jacket pocket. You felt the corner of a piece of paper hit the palm of your hand a few times. Gently, and without looking down, you took the picture from Mat’s hand. And when you brought the picture up to your face, you squeezed Mat’s hand hard as an audible gasp left your lips.

The two of you looked so young. Which made sense considering the picture was taken a few years ago. You smiled at the memory as if it happened yesterday; you in your #13 Barzal jersey, tilting your head toward Mat as if you were leaning your head on his shoulder if the plexiglass wasn’t there. Hayden had taken a hundred pictures of the two of you, but this was different than the one you kept framed at your office.

You looked the same, but Mat looked different.

He still had his hockey stick in hand, but instead of looking at the camera like you, his head was faced down toward you. His eyes were locked in on your smile, wide in admiration. His closed-lipped smile was bashful, but you could clearly see the happiness radiating off him. That day, while you looked into the camera, still high off excitement from watching him on the ice; he looked down at you with all the love he held for you in his soft eyes.

“I even take it with me on road games.”

Tracing your fingers down the worn down, slightly torn up, and bent edges of the picture, you felt another tear roll down your cheek.

While you wanted nothing more to look at the well loved photograph of the two of you in love before either of you knew it, you didn’t want to cry too much before walking down the aisle. You handed the picture back to him so he had it for safekeeping, and squeezed his hand again.

“I love you so much,” you breathed out.

“I love you, too.”

As the two of you continued to hold hands until Mat was called away in order for you to start the last of your wedding preparations, you learned that Mat cherished the small moments. Whether he wanted to memorize the first time he fell in love with you by carrying around a photograph from early on in your relationship, or how he wanted to hold your hand before the two of you committed to a lifetime together…You learned more about him in those moments than ever before.

And when Mat would eventually slide a ring onto your finger––and you to his––it felt as if the rings held a promise heavier than til death do us part. From the moment you met Mat until now, the most important thing you learned about him was how good of a friend he was to you.

You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life as his friend.

[zv5x]

What if reader was really obsessed with Senpai, [like they played his game everyday whenever they can, literally memorizing all the choices and reactions, all that jazz] And they found a way into the game?? Basically yan!reader x Senpai

Also idk if these are taken but could i please be 🥀 or 💐 anon?? Tyssm!!

You can most definitely have those Anons! Either one you want since they're both open! Also omg??? I absolutely love this consept!! Thanks so much for requesting it! Remember to stay safe and take care of yourself!

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

You hummed, gently tracing a finger across your television screen as the familiar menu music played oh-so beautifully. It was truly the peak of music in your eyes, not that it had any right to be anything but however. What would you do if the game that inhabited your beloved soulmate was anything but remarkable? It would be nothing short of blasphemy, that was to be for certain.

Under any other circumstance, you'd be turning this game on simply to see the man that made your entire universe go round. To just talk to him, read those dialogue screens with the same amount of interest you had before you memorized everything the absolute angel had to say, to just be in his presence for as long as you could. Every second you spent around him made your world feel a little bit purer, he made everything feel like it was going to be okay.

Today, however, marked the day that you would be the one giving to him, instead of just he giving everything he could to you. It broke your heart that you couldn't do anything to repay Senpai for his kindness, almost as much as it broke your heart when you forced yourself to obtain a negative game ending for curiosities sake. Your body fell under a deep, agonizing sickness every time you even pondered about whether or not Senpai realize how truly adored he was. That is why you did everything in your power to make sure you could show your love to him.

You went through every library in your area and even beyond that reading various literature pieces regarding dimensional travel, as you assumed that is what it would take to finally be with him physically in his very world. By the time a few days passed, you considered yourself a master of the subject.

Your once clean desk was now cluttered and messy as you went over a final draft for your plans. It was simple, really, to simple. It was quite inconvenient that you only had to rely on books that were written before video games were even established on the consumer market, but it would have to do. Search engines were deemed unreliable from the minute you began doing your research on them - believing that you were intending to enter the video game industry rather than physically entering the universe of a certain title.

Eventually, you stood in front of Senpai with grand confidence, and with a promise to fufil. Soon, you'd be within his physical reach. He was smiling at you, saying words of such love and adoration, as if he was breaking through the bounds of the games script just to praise you for your hard work. Within the next hour, you'd have paid your debt to your beloved. His hard work and determination to make this relationship work would finally be appreciated by his one true love.

Giving the pixelated figure a gentle kiss, you laid back on the floor and relaxed your entire body, thinking solely of who you were trying to meet and exactly what you wanted to accomplish. You remembered reading in one of your covered books that the main method of dimensional travel was complete detachment from your physical self in this reality. Of course, your fears of not being able to meet Sen were immediately eased, considering you felt you have long mastered the art of depersonalization.

Soon, you felt yourself grow tired. Maybe that was a sign everything was falling in to place, or maybe it was just your lack of proper sleep catching up to you the moment it saw the opportunity. You hoped the second reason wasn't the case, and you quickly focused your thoughts back onto your goals as everything faded into a calming black.

You truly had no way of knowing how long you were out for, but what you did know was that the climate felt noticably different from your room. The air felt pure, clean and just the perfect amount of coldness to make breathing a genuinely enjoyable necessity. As soon as your eyes opened, you were met with a figure standing closely in front of your face. Upon waking up just for a few more seconds, your eyes quickly widened and your heart began to pound in an extremely fast paced rythem. It was him. It was your cherished, beloved Senpai.

"Ah, there you are!" He sighed in relif, gently patting your head as he gave you a reassuring smile. "I thought you'd never wake up, I was so worried!"

"Sen-Senpai?!" You immediately sat up, prompting him to give you a soft laugh as he sat you back down into a more relaxed position. He hummed and nodded his head, looking at you with a look of such elegant care that it made your heart completely swell.

"I appreciate you being so happy to see me dear, but I can't have you moving too much after you just woke up. It must have been a nasty fall for you to be out for so long..." He gave you a slight pout, and you stared at him for a moment whist blinking.

For some reason, he didn't seem as...happy to see you as you would have expected. You wanted to feel a form of disappointment, but everything had its reason, and you had to ask Senpai before making assumptions.

"Sen...do you know who I am?"

You asked, and all he did was tilt his head. "Well, no, I assumed you were a new student at first..." He gave a nervous giggle, before rubbing the back of his neck. "Have we...met before...?"

Your heart sunk. He didn't...he didn't remember you? No, that couldn't have been the case. The love the two of you felt was too strong for him to just forget. Maybe something needed to just jog his memory.

"M-my name is (Y/N), I told you my name was (N/N), we spent entire days together, I got all of your games endings, we've been through so much together Sen! Please, try and remember!" The desperation in your voice was as clear as day, and even Senpai felt it. He looked down for a moment, trying to throw your name through every inch of his mind. Until, he hit a mark.

All those times he spent with you, the good, the bad, everything you gave to him and everything you did for him. It was you! His player, his (Y/N)! Suddenly, you saw his eyes brighten and tears prick his pretty blue eyes. Letting out a choked gasp of pure bliss, he threw himself into your arms and pressed his forehead lovingly against yours. Of course, you immediately wrapped your arms around his perfect form, peppering him with as many kisses as you could manage and moving your arms up to be able to run your fingers through his hair. It was just as soft as his game sprites made it look. Absolutely perfection. You knew you had no reason to worry, you just needed to jog Senpai's memory a bit. After all, how could he forget the love of his life?

"I-I can't believe I'm finally able to meet you, (Y/N)..." He said, his normally perfectly silky voice trembling with euphoria. "Please...never leave me..." A soft sniffle could be heard as he nuzzled his head into you and completely laid himself onto you, and you promptly gripped him as tightly as you could without bringing him harm.

"Don't you worry, Senpai..."

You said, leaning back slightly to be able to look him in his pretty eyes. You made him a promise from the moment you saw him, and you could never even think of letting a person as pure and perfect as Senpai down.

"I'll be by your side forever." Kissing him gently on the top of his head, you smiled and rested your cheek upon it. "I wouldn't dare let anything tear us apart."