#My friend told me that in february it will come back

[marlenesluv]

charles + gf living together in monaco (hc)

note: saw charles’ story of him playing piano this morning (feb. 10) and felt the need to make this bc my mind spiraled. (this led to more than i expected, maybe marriage. tf is wrong with me) also i wrote the “he won monaco” bit in february 😭 imma say i manifested that.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: none

head-cannon: yours and charles’ lives after moving in together in monaco.

۵ after dating for about three years, charles proposed the idea of you guys moving in together. the two of you decided on buying a new house in monaco instead of picking between the two of yours.

۵ if you thought living together would be a bad idea, you’d be wrong.

۵ it was the best idea you guys had ever had.

۵ no more ‘can you come over?’ texts at 2am because one of you couldn’t sleep. no more keeping clothes in his closest and some of his in yours. no. everything was perfect now.

۵ you shared a bedroom, a space, a closet, and a home.

۵ when you woke up in the morning, you occasionally would wake to charles playing the piano. a beautiful sound that you thought angels would come down from heaven to hear.

۵ you’d sneak up behind him and kiss his cheek as you sat beside him and played for a while with him.

۵ when you met charles, you didn’t know anything about pianos. but after three years, he’s taught you everything and you enjoy the hobby more than a lot of things.

۵ piano became a staple in your daily routines. at least an hour everyday, you sat down at the piano and practiced.

۵ which usually ended with charles behind you, kissing your neck as you giggled, pushing him off, “charles! i’m practicing, stop that.”

۵ maybe you guys even came out with a song on his spotify. a little duet on the piano, which everyone loved.

۵ grocery shopping was always fun. you insisted that charles didn’t need to go, he was busy after all. but he would never miss it.

۵ he probably will grab to the most unhealthy things and you’re just like, “wont your trainer be mad…?” and he just shrugs and throws the cereal into the cart.

۵ you and kika are bestfriends. obviously.

۵ since your boyfriend’s hangout all the time, you guys started talking and hanging out together and leaving the guys to train.

۵ since you and kika became so close, pierre and charles shared a jet more often.

۵ races were even more fun with you had another girl to talk to. sure, you were friends with the other girls, but you and kika had a connection.

۵ and you had always gone to the family dinners.

۵ pascale saw you as one of her own, she knew you and charles were meant for each other.

۵ and arthur and enzo knew that too.

۵ of course, they all expected charles to propose, which after a while, he told them he would eventually.

۵ but before that, you told kika how much you wanted to get married, and she kept telling you, “just wait, i’m sure he will soon.”

۵ and yeah, maybe pierre told kika that charles was planning to purpose after monaco this year.

۵ and he won monaco. he won at his home.

۵ and he proposed to you on that podium, asking you up there to celebrate, and he got down on one knee.

۵ sobbing, of course you said yes. which fans loved and his friends cheered, kika recording the whole thing.

۵ the wedding was gorgeous, and the honeymoon was incredible.

۵ but you both looked forward to going back home.

۵ you yearned for your simple routine.

۵ and, of course, charles threw out the idea of christening the house now that you were officially married.

۵ and christen you did.

۵ the bedroom, the sofa, the shower, the island, the kitchen table, the balcony, the guest bedrooms, and his new ferrari.

۵ anyways….

۵ you also tried to reach charles how to cook.

۵ he burnt the cookies, let the pasta boil over, served raw burgers, and made the scrambled eggs smoke.

۵ so you quickly took over the home cooked meals.

۵ the two of you loved living together, but it was even better as a married couple.

[spanishyumejoshi]

I forget this meme jsjs I will make him romantic soon, when I finish season 3 (I haven't finished season 2 yet jsjs I have to watch now episode 20)

[italictext]

Hurray!! My sister came out to my mum as bi/pan and told ma she had a girlfriend and it went well! She's not 100% supportive but we'll get there

[brittle-doughie]

This Year and You! (Various Fics)

Just a look back at certain stories throughout the months! Can you imagine it’s been another with you and Cookies!

———————————————————————

January - Final Days

“What are you looking at, Y/N Cookie?”

“Hm, oh hey, Pure Vanilla. It’s just..a photo. I took….of me and my friends…”

“Oh? Can I perhaps take a look?”

“N-No, I’m..not ready to share this with others yet. It’s..a sensitive story for me…”

“O-oh, it’s okay! Please, take all the time you need. I’ll be there whenever you’re ready…”

“Yeah…”

You looked at the photo. You and your…former close friends. Smiling, enjoying yourselves.

“Thank you…”

You missed those times together. You had missed your friends. Them. Not what they had become…

———————————————————————

February - Storm Warning

“Where’s Y/N Cookie? Did they skip out on fishing with us today?”

“Yeah, I’d reckon they won’t be fishin’ with us for a while! Something about the ocean havin’ scaring them.”

“They’re afraid of the ocean? I’ve seen them fish in dangerous waters before. You telling me a little storm is scaring them?”

“I tried telling ‘em that. It felt..off when they looked at me in the eyes and whispered somethin’ to me.”

“What was it?”

“That this was no ordinary storm…”

Lightning crashes and thunder booms as the two fishermen cookies jump. They’d normally tried to sweep it under the rug as the storm just picking up.

If not for the sound of crying far off in the distant sea…

———————————————————————

March - Ingrained

You couldn’t move…

Seeing through the vines that shielded you from the outside world, not sure if passing by cookies observing and marveling at you…or the plant that Herb Cookie had become feeding off your life powder…

Vines were pierced into your dough, so you couldn’t even pull them off if you wanted to. You barely had the strength….

Herb Cookie…he said…you wouldn’t die. A part of you actually wished you could…

Or at least wish he was here right now, anything to break the monotony of vines settling and moving around you…

His empty, smiling husk right next to you didn’t exactly look like the type to have conversation with…

———————————————————————

April - The Dessert Report

You had carefully placed the ancient desserts into your office fridge before closing it, locking it by typing in a numbered keypad that was hooked to the fridge on the wall.

“The shift is over, manager. Where is our just dues..?”

You quickly turned around to see Redcap Mushroom and Demoncake Kitsune Cookie hidden in the shadows of your moonlit office.

“Right, right. I know, just let me head to the break room and get them-“

“We saw you place desserts in that fridge just now. We’ll take that…”

“What? I’m sorry, you two. These particular desserts aren’t for anyone to consume.”

Demoncake Kitsune floated fast towards you, leaning down her tall figure to stare directly at you with her glowing red eyes and black slit pupils.

“….”

“Come on, Demoncake. You’re well aware of what I told you both about desserts made from the Ancient Heroes.”

“Then we’ll need double of today’s worth in…pay. We don’t like being held out on, manager~”

“Plenty of Cookies came in today with gifts, that works for me.”

You escorted the two out of your office towards the front of the store.

You take a second to glance back at the locked fridge…

Once you’ve tasted something so s..w..e..e..t, nothing else would ever satisfy…

———————————————————————

May - The Lone Giant

Earthbread officials have declared the Lone Giant a passive hazard that’s meant to stay out of the way of. Attempts to approach the Giant has been met with hostile resistance from a group wearing white masks.

Towns in the path of the Giant are strongly advised to remain indoors until it has passed. Do not attempt to provide aid to Cookies that are outside during these curfews, they are beyond saving.

Do not try to apprehend or go to the Giant as it is considered extremely dangerous, whether the Giant itself or by the hostile group of Cookies spotted close by it.

Many Cookies continue to go missing in the Giant’s path to this day.

———————————————————————

June - Yin and Yang

“I’m sorry, but Y/N Cookie is not in at the moment. Please feel free to leave any message or gift with me.”

“…I see. But do please tell them that I wish to..spend the afternoon with them? Is that right?”

“Right, I’ll go ahead and pencil that in for you, your Majesty-“

“KEEP THE DOOR OPEN! KEEP THE DOOR OPEN!”

Dumpling Cookie and Dark Cacao Cookie turned to see you frantically running towards the castle door, your face completely covered in pink and purple kiss marks! Your culprits in high pursuit behind you, Affogato and Peach Blossom Cookie.

“Oh, why did you have to pull away so soon~ I wasn’t done with our little get-together~”

“Is everything alright, Y/N Cookie~? I had just prepare a special peach bao I prepared just for you.”

“I needed room to breathe!”

You dart in through the gap in the castle door and Dumpling Cookie quickly closes it, turning back to Dark Cacao Cookie.

“Should I tell them of your message?”

———————————————————————

July - Volition’s End

Dark Cacao Cookie climbed up the steps, having to stop to catch his breath when he noticed the statue of Mystic Flour Cookie…along with another Cookie beside her, one he didn’t recognize.

“That Cookie…who..?”

“That would be Captain Y/N Cookie, a guard of Mystic Flour Cookie, my Lord.”

Cloud Haetae was oddly more..quiet when bringing up this Cookie, something Dark Cacao Cookie noticed.

“Their sole duty was to protect Mystic Flour Cookie at any cost, even the cost of their own live itself. And that’s exactly what they did, defending her from Cookies that burned with hatred.”

“I..had never seen Mystic Flour Cookie act the way she did ever since that day. Kind of like you, my Lord. She cherished Y/N Cookie more than anything, holding onto their crumbled body as she returned to her cocoon. Because all she needed was them..”

“Have you ever experienced the feeling of emptiness for so long, my Lord?”

———————————————————————

August - Feathered Envy

“Tell me, truly! Who’s the most beautiful of us two? It’s very clear that it’s me, right?”

“Well…”

“Please, allow my precious to answer for themselves. Their answer must come from the bottom of their heart..”

“What? Are you afraid that my darling little Cookie may prefer the more beautiful one between us, Sugar Swan Cookie?”

“Let them answer for themself.”

“It’s clear who they’ll pick anyway. You might as well fly off already. The season is waiting for you-“

“The season can wait. Let them answer truthfully.”

———————————————————————

September - Tale of the Forced Hand

“Will you be alright, Y/N Cookie?”

You gave Pure Vanilla Cookie a reassuring nod, but you kept clutching your head.

“Yeah…yeah, I’ll be okay. I-I don’t know what happened back there. I just saw you all in danger and something in me just..wanted to do something to help.”

“That power you displayed, it was something Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t expect, yet relished in.”

“That smile of his, he knew something..but what was it…”

“Regardless, it’s possible he’s alerted the other Beasts about you. If what he had done was anything, he may not be willing to let you go a second time.”

“Something’s going on here, Pure Vanilla Cookie. It’s like I…remembered Shadow Milk Cookie, but..I didn’t know him at the same time either…”

“Y/N Cookie, could it be that..”

“No. There’s no way. I’ve lived an ordinary life since the beginning! I remember traveling and staying at the Cookie Kingdom when it used to be rubble.”

“Shadow Milk Cookie’s word cannot help trusted…”

“..yet his words always carry a speck of truth. No, I..couldn’t be this Compassion, right?”

———————————————————————

October - Five Nights with Dragons

“Is everything alright with the Great Dragon recently?

“I don’t know, they’ve been acting different since the sacrifice a while ago…”

“Did they..actually get the sacrifice..?”

“They did, I was there to check out the aftermath, the whole place was a mess. Yet, not a crumb was in sight on the floor.”

“Then what happened to the sacrifice?”

“No one knows. The cameras only caught the Great Dragons dragging them out of the home.”

“Then why…why is the Great Dragon angrier then they’ve ever been before?”

———————————————————————

November - Cookie to the Rescue

“So, you really endangered yourself to rescue Golden Osmanthus Cookie is what I’m hearing.”

“Pretty much. I wasn’t going to just leave her, Dumpling Cookie. I didn’t care if I crumbled off an arm to do so!”

“That’s quite the strong feeling towards a Cookie you’ve only met for a little while..”

“So what? Are you going to be like Crowned about this?”

“I was only asking, ‘kay? Remember that this kingdom needs you, Y/N Cookie. You can’t always throw yourself into danger and come out of it all right.”

“I know…”

“But seeing you go out of your way to help others, it’s one of the many things I like you about, Y/N.”

“O-Oh! Thank you, Dumpling Cookie.”

“So..what’s your relationship with Golden Osmanthus?”

“So nosy!”

———————————————————————

December - Destructive Influence

You hurried into a quiet part of the arena locker rooms, quickly pulling the small bit of incense you had stashed away. Taking a deep breath of its fragrance, you felt his influence slip away bit by bit as your mind calms down.

“And just what are you doing?”

“Keeping you from going out of control. What was that back there?! I-I thought you were just going to rough them up a little, not completely tear those three apart!”

“Hahaha! Why would I hold back against pathetic worms who crumble at the first sign of strength such as mine! I helped you and your bunch of friends, you OWE me.”

“I owe you nothing. You could’ve crumbled them! They may be..not the best sort of Cookies, but-“

“But WHAT?! Will you allow these weak, so weak Cookies to push you around?! Or will you allow me to show you the type of power you can have? Where no Cookie in your way will be able to stop you!”

“I…”

“Or will you end up as dust on like any other Cookie before you…?”

You looked at your right hand, it was trembling as it clenched into a fist. You felt a burning sensation coursing through your very dough, as if he was manifesting his power through it.

“Your enemy will not show mercy. Are you not going to give them the same or are you going to them every ounce of power that COURSES THROUGH YOUR DOUGH?!”

“ENOUGH!”’

You punched the wall in front of you, making the room tremble as you make a large dent in the wall. The burning faded as did Burning Spice’s influence..

Thank Swan for Golden Osmanthus Cookie’s incense. You only hope it can remain effective for as long as you needed it…

———————————————————————

It’s been a great year with you all! Here’s to another!

[notlongtolove]

your hand in my hand

after derek’s less-than-intellectual speech about how he was not spending four uninterrupted hours on a train with reid, hotch’s solution was to pair you with spencer instead. and between your notorious driving and spencer’s—well, spencer’s worse driving, the only logical option was the train.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: mutual pining spencer and bau!reader embark on a 4 hour train ride and share some cute moments over a wordsearch book

word count: 3.1k

note: finished finals n hopped on a flight n came back n wrote this on 4 hours of sleep jst bc i couldn't get the idea of a train ride out of my head...

a line: The sight of your bag in his hand was one you could get used to. It was a sight that made you think of Sunday mornings and shared coffee mugs.

It’s beautiful out there— fields, little lakes and winter trees in February sunlight, every car park a shining mosaic. Long radiant minutes, your hand in my hand, still warm, still warm. -wendy cope

“I still think this is a terrible idea.”

“It’s only a four-hour train ride.”

“Yeah, but it could’ve been a two-hour drive.”

“Two? It’s three at the minimum. Danville is—”

“Not if I’m driving,” you smirk. 

“And that is exactly why I told Hotch I would not be getting in a car with you.”

Hotch had assigned you and Spencer to check out a secondary lead while the rest of the team travelled out to work a case. After Derek’s less-than-intellectual speech about how he was not spending four uninterrupted hours on a train with Reid, Hotch’s solution was to pair you with Spencer instead. And between your notorious driving and Spencer’s—well, Spencer’s worse driving, the only logical option was the train.

Not that it stopped Spencer from pointing out every possible flaw in your driving on the way to the station.

“I’m not that bad, I swear!” you had protested, rolling your eyes.

“You got two speeding tickets in the last month.”

“One month,” Garcia had chimed in over the phone. “And actually, technically, it’s three tickets.”

You groaned. “The third one didn’t count! The cop was just—”

“And don’t even get me started on your sense of direction,” Spencer mumbled. 

“Pretty girl, I love you, but I’d get in a car with Reid before you, and that’s saying a lot,” Morgan’s voice rang out from over the line.

“Thank you!—Wait, hey!” Spencer spluttered.

By the time you make it to the station, its clear that your BAU Jet Privileges had not prepared you for public transportation. “Wheels up in thirty” definitely did not translate to “trains only leave when you’re ready.”

“Can’t we just tell them we’re, like, important or something?” you grumbled, stretching to peek over the crowd in front of you.

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Spencer muttered, clutching his satchel as he scanned the line. His brow furrowed in that nervous way you’ve come to recognize, the one he always got when cases ran too close to the wire or people hovered just a little too close in his personal space.

As they announced the final boarding call over the station’s intercom, Spencer’s anxiety ramped up, practically vibrating beside you. You, of course, were less concerned. “Relax,” you teased, nudging him. “What are they gonna do, leave without us?”

“Yes,” Spencer snapped. “That’s actually exactly what they’re going to do.”

When a harried-looking attendant opened a new line to speed things up, Spencer grabbed your bag—“God, what is in here?”—and marched you both toward the front of the queue.

“You two together?” she asked, as she gestured between the two of you.

“Oh, uh, no—just friends,” Spencer stammered, color rising in his cheeks.

She blinked at him. 

“Spence, she’s referring to our tickets.”

“Oh! Right, right.” He fumbled with his pocket as you handed yours over, suppressing a grin.

Flustered Spencer was your favorite Spencer. Of course, you’d never admit it out loud, but there was something endlessly endearing about seeing him off-balance, especially if you were the cause. Not the encyclopedia, not the profiler, just Spencer. It was a rare glimpse into the version of him you cherished most. The Spencer who remembered your coffee order, who stayed up with you in hotel lobbies when you’ve had one too many said cups of coffee, who once held your hand for 15 whole minutes after you found a kid’s drawing in a victim’s room and couldn’t keep it together.

It was also a little dangerous. Not in the same way your driving was dangerous (though Spencer might argue otherwise), but in the way where you sometimes wondered if you’d crossed some invisible line. If the lingering hugs and casual touches that weren’t exactly casual meant more than either of you were willing to say. But those were dangerous thoughts, ones best left in the quiet recesses of your mind. So you pushed them aside, as you always did, and focused on the here and now.

The here and now being Spencer, still blushing faintly as he grabbed your bag and adjusted it over his shoulder, his brow furrowed with some internal muttering about how much you packed. When the attendant waved you through with a tired smile and Spencer started making a beeline for your platform with your bag in tow, you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Thanks, partner,” you teased, earning a glare that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Just get on the train,” he grumbled, turning away before you could see the corners of his lips twitch upward.

The two of you made your way through the carriages after a brief but spirited debate about whether to walk outside along the platform to reach your assigned car or board the train immediately and navigate through it. Predictably, Spencer had won, and now you were squeezing past narrow aisles and weaving through clusters of passengers with a litany of “Excuse me,” “I’m so sorry,” and even a “I didn’t mean to step on your foot sir,” from you.

By the time you finally reached your carriage, the train had already started moving. Spencer shot you a pointed “I told you so” look that made you roll your eyes as you flopped into your seat. Spencer wrinkled his nose as he lowered himself hesitantly into the seat beside yours, clearly doing his best not to make contact with any of the surfaces he deemed less than pristine. His discomfort was almost palpable, the slight twitch of his fingers betraying his thoughts. Public transport wasn’t exactly his favorite—as he’d once explained in great detail, something about microbial colonies on handrails and seats. You leaned back, watching as he tried to situate himself, his satchel perched protectively on his lap like it might shield him from the horrors of public commuting.

“So,” you said, hoping to distract him, “what joys of reading did you bring along for this glorious journey?”

Spencer glanced at you, then sighed, reaching into his bag. “The Sign of Four,” he said, taking out a well-loved copy of the Sherlock Holmes novel.

“Ooh, a classic,” you replied with an approving nod.

“And you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he settled into the question, visibly relaxing, if only a little. His fingers smoothed the corner of his book, but his eyes stayed on you, curious.

You grinned, the kind of grin that promised trouble—or at least something Spencer would find mildly exasperating. Reaching into your bag, you dug through the chaos of receipts, snacks, and whatever else you’d deemed necessary for a four-hour train ride.

“You’re not going to watch something on your phone again are you?” Spencer said, his tone laced with a mix of exasperation and earnest concern. “You do realize that watching something on a phone during a train ride is fundamentally different from doing so on a jet, right?"

“Hold your horses,” you said, your tone light and teasing. “It’s in here somewhere.”

Spencer continued, "The vibrations and lateral motion of the train create a parallax effect that forces your eyes to constantly refocus, which can lead to ocular fatigue and even mild vertigo in some cases—”

“Calm down,” you interrupted, cutting off his impromptu lecture as you pulled out a shiny new word search book. You held it up triumphantly. “Snagged it in the station lobby.”

“I thought you said you needed the restroom.”

“I did,” you said, smirking as you flipped through the book’s pages. “And then I saw this. Couldn’t resist.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes, glancing at the bright, cartoonish cover. “It says meant for ages 10 and up.”

“And last I checked, I am most definitely over the ripe old age of 10, Genius.”

Spencer shook his head, a small, begrudging smile finally breaking through his earlier apprehension. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was a lightness in his voice now that made you grin even wider

“And yet,” you countered, “here you are, stuck with me for the next four hours. Lucky you.”

Spencer sighed dramatically, but you didn’t miss the warmth in his eyes.

The train rattled gently as it picked up speed, the two of you settling into your books. Spencer had opened his novel, but the words on the page blurred as his attention kept drifting. You weren’t exactly helping—constantly shifting in your seat, furrowing your brow in concentration as you hunched over your word search book. He tried to focus, he really did, but his gaze kept flicking away from the neat lines of his novel.

You were stuck on the word minimal when he finally caved.

“Top left, vertically,” he said without looking up.

Your brows furrowed for a moment before Spencer reached over and pointed it out for you. “Oh, thanks!” you replied cheerfully, circling the word with gusto.

At first, it had been helpful, funny even, maybe even a little cute. But by the third time he chimed in with a casual, “Parachute. Bottom right, backwards,” you were ready to stage a mutiny.

“You’re ruining word search!” you declared, tearing the book away from his gaze, clutching it dramatically to your chest.

Spencer laughed, an unrestrained, boyish sound that made your cheeks flush. “It’s not my fault you’re so bad at it!”

You gasped, leveling him with a mock glare. “Spencer Reid, you take that back right now!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, still grinning, “but it’s like you have horse blinders on or something.”

“Oh, if you’re so good, why don’t you do it?”

It wasn’t a challenge so much as an invitation, but Spencer, being Spencer, took it as both. He snatched the book from your hands, scanned the grid, and completed the puzzle in a little under two minutes.

“Show-off,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help smiling as he handed it back launching into an explanation about linguistic patterns and visual recognition.

You both settled into a rhythm, solving the rest of the puzzles side by side. You held the pencil—because, as you put it, you deserved the pencil holding honor—though Spencer still pointed out words before you even had a chance to finish reading the list.

“Butterfly. Horizontal, top left,” he said without missing a beat.

“I saw that! I was getting to it!” you protested, circling the word with exaggerated flair.

Spencer smiled to himself as he watched you, his book long forgotten. Just as you had your favorite version of him, he had his own of you, one he’d never admit aloud. There was something about these little moments—when your carefully curated wit gave way to playful exasperation—that he absolutely adored. No clever retorts, no sharp-edged humor, just you. 

The two of you had been working on the word search together for a while now, the small book balanced precariously on the shared armrest between your seats. Naturally, you’d both leaned in closer without realizing it, the space between you narrowing as the train rattled along. But after a few jerks on the track Spencer notices you shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your expression tightening just slightly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice gentle as he glanced at you.

“Armrest’s digging into my side,” you admitted, twisting a little as if to escape the offending object, the smile you tried to muster falling a little short. 

“Ah,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact, “Put it up, then.”

The version of you from an hour ago might have quipped something sarcastic, turning the moment into yet another teasing exchange. But travel fatigue had set in, and the closeness of Spencer—his voice, his warmth, the way he seemed to notice everything—had you more flustered than you cared to admit.

“Oh. Okay,” you murmured, your voice quieter than usual as you moved the armrest up and shifted in your seat. The tension in your posture eased as you repositioned, feeling the strain fade. 

“Better?” he asked, his head tilting slightly as he studied your face.

“Mm. Slightly.” you replied, though the truth was that it was a lot better. Without the armrest, you found yourself acutely aware of how close he was—his arm brushing against yours, the subtle scent of his cologne, the way his knee bumped against yours when the train swayed.

Spencer nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer, but the faintest hint of a smile lingered on his lips. He shifted slightly too and returned his attention to the forgotten book in his lap. But his fingers drummed idly on the cover, and you could tell his focus was no longer on Sherlock Holmes.

“Let me guess,” you said after a moment, trying to ground yourself in the familiarity of banter. “You’re going to tell me the science behind why train seats are designed to be this uncomfortable?”

Spencer glanced at you, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Actually, I was going to say that the armrests are poorly engineered for optimal comfort. But now that you mention it—”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” you interrupted, groaning as you rolled your eyes, though your grin betrayed you. “Spare me the ergonomics lecture, Doctor Reid.”

Without the armrest dividing you, the space between your shoulders disappeared almost entirely, a quiet sort of intimacy neither of you acknowledged aloud. At first, it was just the puzzle again, you gently nudging the book towards him every now and then, his finger tracing a word before you could even spot it.

“Reindeer. Top right, diagonal,” he said for the third time, his tone just shy of smug.

You circled furiously with a huff. 

It didn’t take long for your enthusiasm to bubble over, the book tipping dangerously toward your face as you leaned forward in an effort to beat him to the next word. After the second near miss, Spencer plucked it from your grasp entirely, holding it at what he claimed was the optimal distance for focus while on a moving train—Though he still let you retain your pencil holding privileges. 

You leaned back with an exaggerated sigh, resting your chin in your hand as you scanned the page. Now, your shoulder didn’t just brush his in passing—it lingered, resting lightly against his as you stretched toward the book in his hands. The contact was unassuming, almost accidental, but you made no move to pull away, and neither did he. Spencer noticed—you were sure of it. How could he not? But if he minded, he didn’t say anything. You caught the faintest twitch of his lips, the smallest sign that he was aware. Maybe even liked it. 

You found yourself leaning more and more, your eyelids growing heavy as the minutes passed. Spencer’s presence was warm beside you, an unspoken comfort that made it easy to drift. It felt like the simplest, most natural thing to surrender to it. You’d handed Spencer the honor of holding the pencil 2 puzzles ago as your head slowly tilted, the weight of it pulling you so temptingly toward his shoulder. A soft sigh escaped you, and before you knew it, your eyes had fluttered shut. Spencer glanced down at you, the way your breathing softened, a perfect stillness that made his chest tighten. 

He didn’t know if he should move away. He knew he didn’t want to. So he stayed where he was, fingers curled loosely around the book, watching as the rhythmic back-and-forth of the train mirrored the gentle rise and fall of your chest. After another slight lurch, your head finally made contact with his shoulder. Spencer stilled, his breath catching in his throat. The way your hair brushed against his cheek while your knee pressed gently against his. How your hand lay across his on the book, a lingering trace of your last attempt to spot a word before he did.

It was all too much for Spencer—and yet, it was just right. 

He dared not move. He didn’t pull back, even though your hair tickled his face. His knee remained pressed against yours, despite the rhythmic sway of the train threatening to break the contact. His hand stayed where it was resting beneath yours on the book, his fingers loosely curled around the pencil, though the book was long forgotten. He stayed, in this unexpected, perfect stillness.

Before he could stop himself, his head had tilted and found its place upon yours. It was comforting, the contact grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Spencer let his eyes close, the steady hum of the train and the warmth of your presence lulling him into a strange sense of calm.

When the train finally eased into the station, the gentle jolt stirred you awake. You felt your cheeks warm as the reality of the crowded station seeped back in, the intercom announcements and bustling crowds breaking the intimacy of the moment. Spencer’s eyes were still closed, his breathing even. With a small, almost reluctant sigh, you nudged him awake, the touch soft but insistent. He blinked, looking at you with a hint of confusion that melted into a small smile when he realized where he was.

“Hey,” you murmured, a touch of embarrassment in your voice.

“Hey,” he replied, a soft warmth in his expression. 

“You dropped my word search,” you mumbled, nodding toward the book now resting forgotten on the floor between your feet. 

 “Hm?” He sat up straighter, looking at you with a bit of sleep still clouding his gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you shifted, a little embarrassed at the way you’d curled into him, “I’m sorry I slept on you.”

Spencer’s smile was soft and reassuring. “S’fine. I didn’t mind.”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, spreading heat to your face. You quickly bent down to grab your bag, fingers fumbling with the strap, hoping the movement would distract you. But before you could lift it, Spencer’s hand closed over the strap. You feel your heart thump at the gesture, the simplicity of it making you pause for a moment longer than necessary. The sight of your bag in his hand was one you could get used to. It was a sight that made you think of Sunday mornings and shared coffee mugs. Dangerous thoughts. 

As you stepped off the train, you instinctively reached for your phone, its screen lighting up with an influx of notifications. Hotch’s name stood out among the messages.

“Hm. Hotch asks if we need a driver for the ride back,” you said, raising your phone to show him, “Says he’ll send a van if we want.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he looked at the screen, the thoughtful expression on his face almost too easy to read. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice casual but with a note of curiosity.

You shrugged, the practiced ease of your movements not quite matching the fluttering in your chest. “I think we’re fine,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light, “unless you want to?”

“Yeah,” he smiled then, the corner of his lips tilting up, “Think the train was just fine.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: north by clairo saw you in a dream by the japanese house

[illnessfaker]

tw: black+trans death

from the_yvesdropper on instagram:

our beautiful black trans brother, 35 year old Righteous Torrence "Chevy" Hill, was murdered in Atlanta, GA this weekend.

he went by his nickname 'Chevy' he was originally from Macon, GA. he owned Evollusion, which is a black/ queer owned LGBTQ+ salon in Atlanta that provided and dedicated full service to specializing in hair, nails, barbering and makeup. growing up as young black queer boys/kids, the barbershop experience can sometimes be a tricky space to occupy, this was something that Chevy understood and wanted to cultivate a space of safety where you can also get the affirming look and style you want, and he did exactly that.

Chevy was a beloved son, brother, partner, and father.

one of his last posts that had a photo of himself said :

"if you truly know me, you know i am a humble, modest, private man, that i love my community, i have the love of God in me and will give the shirt off my back to any soul in need, also i never post pictures of myself, legaey give myself credit, that stops today, i am my legacy!"

(a close friend of Chevy asked if i could share more then one photo of Chevy, since he never posted photos of himself and in recent years he got the confidence to want to share more photos and now he won't get the chance to)

Chevy, hey king, hey brother, hey angel, thank you for everything, i lové you, we lové you, i'm so sorry. there are a lot of photographers in heaven who will be able to photograph you as the glorious black trans angel that you are.

there will be a homegoing service/memorial for our brother

there aren't many details about what happened but apparently he was shot by a family member last wednesday, the 28th (at least this article was the one linked in relation to his murder.)

judging by both the IG post and the comments section he was well-loved by many people and those people have many good memories with him and nothing but good things to say. this is a comment that was left by tirajmeansgolden which was hidden by IG for some reason:

I started testosterone in February 2020. I hit this man up at the end of 2019 after numerous Google searches for an LGBT-friendly barber near me (and by near me... he was a good 35-40 minutes from the rural area I was in outside of Atlanta: but when I found out he was a trans man and that his business was the first and only LGBT hair bar, I knew it would be worth the trip). I was a dysphoric mess in his DMs one Sunday. I hated how my hair was growing out. I never had a "masculine" hairstyle before but decided one day I would buzz it all off myself, then allowed it to grow out a bit... I sent him a video and despite him being closed on Sunday, he told me to come through. I got my hair braided and he gave me my first really masculine fade. Explained the different terms. Lined me up. Was asking me about my decision to transition and provided some helpful advice + guidance. I told him how I was a therapist and he was hype and said he talked with a group of trans men and he would love for me to stop by and also give some mental health tips. So whoever said he was humble - wow, what an understatement. Such a community man! Made me feel SO comfortable because barbershops were a source of major trauma and triggers for me. They were such an integral part of my early transition (I just celebrated 4 years later week). And he was such an integral part of the Atlanta Queer community with hosting events like Queer Con. How I found so many other great resources + queer businesses/artists. May you rest in peace, Chevy. You'll be missed. You've made such a different in the lives of countless people. You definitely were living your Purpose + left a legacy behind ...

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

maybe a lil fic with steve yk like he thinks you're together but r just thinks that they're just friends cuz she thinks he acts that way with everyone (he doesn't). so when he's like "we're going on that dinner date, right?" and she's just so confused and flabbergasted "since when did we start dating??"

I've missed your writing on my dashboard ily<3

i’m glad someone misses my writing. i hope this is okay🩷

steve harrington x fem!reader (this ended up being long… i’m shocked)

masterlist

“here comes loverboy.”

your brows pinched together at max’s words. looking over your shoulder to see steve leaving the register, heading back towards your booth with a pastel pink box in hand.

the boy slid into the open seat beside you. shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. his warmth radiating off his body blankets you from the february chill that seeps into the diner’s walls.

“what’s in the box?” robin questioned while making a grab for it. steve quickly slapped- gently tapped- the approaching hand away. robin making a scene for no one.

“not for you, buckley. for my favorite girl.” and steve looked directly at you.

“aw, thanks steve-o.” max fawned. a simple giggle slipped from your mouth while steve rolled his eyes. “not for you either, rugrat. only for my favorite, most special girl.” finally sliding the pastry box in front of you.

steve tapped his fingers against the table top, “they had your go-tos so i got one of each.” your cheeks warmed as you opened the top, “you didn’t have to, stevie.”

“yeah, stevie. what about us?” robin pointed between her and max, a twisted pout to her face.

steve eyed them, “what about you two? get your own stuff.” huffing like they were insane to think steve would do anything of that level for them.

eyeing the different options you grabbed a donut and proceeded to spilt the item into four small bites. handing off two for max and robin, replacing them with another two, one for you and the other for steve. hand waiting for steve, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist delicately as he bites into his awaiting treat. you chuckle at the silliness.

“you too are gross.” robin declared with her mouth full. steve copied her actions, “says you. close your mouth while chewing.” placing his hand over his mouth in after thought.

“so,” speaking up to change the subject, “any nice plans this week?” referring to valentine’s day on wednesday.

“lucas says he’s taking me some place special, which might be the arcade.” max played it cool but you could tell it affected her in a good way.

“band practice is my special valentine. can’t complain too much.” robin punctuated her sentence with a sip of water.

“what’s the dynamic duo gonna do on the day of love?” max teased, batting her lashes while cupping her cheeks.

you shrugged, “don’t think we have plans-“ “yes we do.” steve is quick to fix you misunderstanding.

there was a surprised spark in your eyes, “we do?”

steve’s brows furrowed, “yeah. i told you about the dinner date i scheduled.” now your bows scrunched, “yeah, but i thought you were going on a date.”

steve leaned towards you, “i am. with you.” punctuation on those two words, letting every letter hit you in the face.

you sat shell shocked, eyes focused over steve’s shoulder while robin and max almost jumped from their vinyl seats.

“for real?” “since when were you dating?”

at the word dating you shook away any incoming thoughts and waves away their curiosity. “we’re not dating. we’re just friends. steve’s like this with everyone.” knowing that would end any discussion.

three sets of eyes stared you down, you wanted to shrink into the ground from the attention. “what?” a squeak at their baring eyes.

“steve is only sugary sweet to you. do you not remember five minutes ago? when he bought you treats, without you asking, then told me and max to fuck off.” robin questioned.

“language-“ “i didn’t say that-“

max waved you both off, “whatever. what robin is trying to get at is, you are dating. steve openly flirty banters with you, you reciprocate in a flustered mess, and steve has hearts beaming from his corneas.” max’s palms smack onto the table.

your mouth opened, then closed. open, close, open, close. “i just,” you hands flapped about, “i- i thought he just- you know…”

“no we don’t, but please, tell us.” robin eyed you wolfishly.

anxiously you pinched the skin around your fingers, teeth biting into your bottom lip, eyes darting everywhere not knowing what your next move was.

“alright, enough teasing. let’s just get everyone home.” steve broke the silence. sliding out beside you then holding a waiting hand out, you couldn’t help but just to stare at it, like it might bite you or something.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. we’ll talk later.” soft, kind filled brown eyes watched your movements as you set your palm to his and he help you exit the booth smoothly. steve gave a squeeze before releasing his hold and your chest felt heavy again.

he called you sweetheart. he usually throws pet names about, but this one just felt… different. your brain connected to it differently.

robin and max were silent on the drive to their houses, radio at medium volume, but they kept the backseat of the bmw silent as a church mouse.

you could barely look steve’s way, barely glance at him from your peripheral. he didn’t seem tense from your words just… dejected. a gloomy cloud hanging over his head and it’s because you friend zoned him while he thought you both were together.

no chance he wants to be with you now, blew it for yourself before you even had a proper chance. you wallow in silence.

robin was the first to be dropped off. steve came to a slow stop in front of her tiny house, shifting into park so he could look back with a gentle smile, “call if you need anything. and try not to do anything clumsy.”

robin rolled her eyes in a playful manner, “i’ll try not to dad.” and she left with a comforting squeeze of your bicep.

steve waited until robin waved you off an closed her front door. “okay mayfield, home or someplace else?” he always asked when driving her.

“umm, wheeler’s. please.” yeah, she felt sorry about earlier. her please and thank you’s were a bit sparring.

again silence. you wanted to speak, but with max still in the car you held your tongue. pinching at the material of your jeans while eyeing the scenery passing by in a blur, you couldn’t help flinching at the touch of skin covering your own. you looked down cautiously to see steve’s right hand resting over your fidgeting one, stopping your mindless action.

the fifteen minute drive pasted into two minutes when you saw the big two story home come into view. you saw a couple of bikes laying in the front yard and suspected the boys also were invading the family home.

“thanks for the ride. i’ll be fine to get home later.” shuffling mixed with her words before popping the left back door open. a soft thud followed her exit then she stopped outside your window and lightly tapped.

you rolled it down with concern at her sorrow filled expression. “i’m sorry. about earlier. i wasn’t trying to-“

“max,” cutting her off, “it’s okay. i know you didn’t mean harm and plus, might’ve opened my eyes today.” playing coy with your words.

a smile flickered at her lips while her eyes looked over your shoulder. she left with a pep to her step and you were finally alone with your steve.

“so wanna-“ “did you really think we weren’t dating?”

you could help your light chuckle, “getting straight to the point i see.”

steve sputtered, “i just- it felt like we’ve been on multiple dates. and- and we’re very touchy with each other, always there for each other. i just- i just thought we were dating after the trip to chicago.”

that did turn into a pretty romantic trip now that you thought back on certain scenarios. “i think i’m just blind to romantic advances. didn’t think i was your type.” mumbling the last part.

you’ve seen the girls steve’s been with in the past. all perfect, petite, not quite hair out of place and makeup painted over delicate skin. you weren’t those things, you were messy at times, flyaways sticking up from nonexistent static, stains appearing on your clothes without knowing.

you didn’t deserve steve, he deserved someone-

“hey.” a finger crooked under your chin and moved your head from its slumped position. steve homely brown eyes darted over your face, your imperfections. you wanted to flinch away. he must’ve read your mind since her cupped your cheeks with his warm palms.

“you are none of those things i know your thinking too much about. you are completely deserving of being loved deeply and i’m happy to be that person to pour his soul into yours. if you’ll verbally say yes so we’re on the same page this time.”

your own hands wandered to hold onto steve’s wrist, “that was quite romantic of you. didn’t think of you to be a sap.” deflecting a bit from nerves.

steve smiled brightly, “for you i’ll always be a sap. practically turn into honey for you.” leaning over his console to press a kiss onto the tip of your nose. “so what do you say, wanna give us a proper go?”

you bit into your bottom lip, “i guess i could try.” smiling so wide your cheeks ached as steve dotted kisses over your face, not suppressing your giggles of glee.

[bajisaiii]

i've briefly spoken about this girl before but now that everything is coming out about her i figured i'd just share the rest of my experience. (tw: death/necrophilia)

qadence & i became mutuals earlier this year (february 15th), she followed me out of the blue one day & was commenting on my stuff so i followed her back bc why not yk? she started out super nice, complimenting me, starting convos, etc. so fast forward a couple of months, i make a tiktok about my girlfriend who passed a week before my birthday in january (which is still up on my tt). she goes to comment and say "damn she's sexy" which i took that as her not reading the caption because several people said something similar. she deleted her comment after i replied with dots, so she messages me and told me that she didn't know she passed, etc. so i just said okay and moved on.

i never talked to her about anything too personal because you literally never know what she could tell people or wtv but one time we did talk about like her dynamic w the team and she was trash talking them lowkey like saying they'd leave her out of stuff, etc. and it's just like??? BE FUCKING SERIOUS. but about a month after, she started being hella weird towards me over sexualizing my gf & saying how if she wasn't deceased, she'd wanna be with her & be intimate ... but everytime she'd send something like that to me, she'd delete it soon as i saw it because she knew what she said was disgusting. so when all that stuff came out about her liking caroline harvey, i knew people would start to catch onto her true personality or at least people who have common sense.

i commented on a tiktok about her being a terrible person and she blocked me shortly afterwards, she was also so bitter and rude about the whole jersey number thing. like i didn't even KNOW u before uconn and how she thinks nika stole her jersey number (10)..

in conclusion, of cou i'm blocked now but this is only my story and it still affects me deeply because of how everything unfolded. if you're still a supporter of her, i truly hope you come to some kind of sense & realize how vile she is.

& to add on to my post, i believe that lili was WAY too gracious to be #her friend.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i love a good wedding fic and ive been excited to share this one! 🤍 not too much to say except i loved writing this and i hope you guys love reading it 🥰

word count: 7.5k

tw: unprotected sex, dirty talk, disgusting amount of domestic fluff,

summary: on a cold february day on long island, you and mat make it official surrounded by your friends and family

You’re awake before your eyes open, the baby fluttering around wakes you most days now, an excited roll in your stomach that gets you smiling before you’re even really conscious.

Watery February sunlight leaks in around the edges of your bedroom curtains, doing nothing to cut the Long Island winter chill. You curl up closer against Mat’s side, the round swell of your stomach pressed against his ribs, one of your legs thrown over his thigh.

Mat’s arm is around your back, his hand splayed over your hip, and he shifts to drag you closer even though there’s barely an inch of space between your bodies. He mumbles something, but doesn’t wake up, and you press your nose against his chest to soak up his warmth. Your usual blanket-hog fiancé has been surprisingly generous with sharing ever since you told him you were pregnant. Of course, now you rarely want the blanket since your body feels like a furnace half the time. But it’s the thought that counts.

The baby flutters again and you grin sleepily into the fabric of Mat’s shirt, patting the side of your stomach and murmuring, “morning to you too.”

You get an answering nudge and giggle, waking Mat in the process.

“Wha’s a matter?” He mumbles, voice slurred with sleep. He’s been back home for a couple of days now, the two week break already half over, but Mat’s always loved catching up on his sleep when he gets the chance.

“Sorry,” you murmur, “just talking to the baby. We’re okay. Go back to sleep.”

He hums and stretches, pulling you even tighter against his side and making you laugh a little. “Nah, I’m awake,” he says, sounding clearer. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Slept through the night, huh?”

“Nope,” you laugh, tangling your legs with his and enjoying the feeling of Mat’s muscled thigh between yours, “I got up to pee, but you slept through it.” You rock a little against his leg, barely aware you’re doing it.

Mat chuckles a bit and his hand slides over your ass lazily, palming it before giving it a brief squeeze. You lean into him, arm over his stomach, cheek against his heart, just quietly breathing together. You know he was bummed not to be picked for the All-Star Game this year, but you have to admit that selfishly you’re glad he’s home and you can relax together before the baby comes this summer. The season’s been a whirlwind and you’ve been busy planning your summer wedding, so it’s nice to just be quiet together. Not that today’s going to be quiet.

“Ready to get married?” You ask, tipping your head up and resting your chin on Mat’s chest. He looks deliciously sleep tousled, hair sticking up in all directions and a small smile ticking at his lips.

“Hell fucking yes,” he grins fully now, entire face scrunched up. His hand shifts from your ass to stroke at the side of your stomach, tickling lightly. “Baby daddy to husband, pretty solid upgrade.”

You snort a laugh and shift a little, hips aching from being on your side all night. “I’m looking forward to the wife upgrade,” you tease back. “I’m tired of the nurse at my OB/Gyn giving me dirty looks because I got knocked up out of wedlock.”

You’re not expecting Mat to have such a reaction to your throwaway comment, but he jolts and half-sits, forcing you to shift away from his side. Your head lands on your own pillow and you squeak from the surprise and sudden movement.

“Wait seriously?” He narrows his eyes at you, a concerned frown turning his lips down at the corners. “You never said anything, that’s bullshit.”

“She’s never said anything to my face,” you wave him off with a shrug. “I’m not overly concerned about it, Mat.”

“Well, I care!” He scoots back up against the headboard, pillows bunched up behind his back and you can see he’s getting worked up on your behalf, which is sweet, but right now all you really want is a cuddle and a back massage. “What right does she have to be judging you? Doesn’t that go against all the like medical codes and shit?”

You roll onto your back briefly to stretch while you answer him, “I think it only goes against medical ethics if she says something or like reports me to CPS? I don’t know, Mat. But after today it’s a non-issue. So, as adorable as you are when you’re defending me, can you please just rub my back and maybe give me one more engaged woman orgasm before they become married woman orgasms?”

That’s been a major perk of the second trimester - after your morning sickness and general all-day nausea had faded, you’d been wildly horny for Mat. Not that you weren’t before you were pregnant, but now everything feels heightened and luckily, Mat’s more than happy to indulge in your pouted pleas when he’s home.

Sure enough, Mat laughs and leans down to kiss you sweetly, tongue tracing over your lower lip, while he nudges you onto your side. “What baby mama wants, baby mama gets,” he teases, slotting himself in behind you so your ass is tucked up against his hardening cock. You hum happily and wiggle a bit, letting the hem of your oversized shirt ride up on your hip. Despite the chill, you more barely able to sleep in shorts because you’re running so hot lately. It’s definitely easier for Mat to indulge in your extra horny desires though.

“Making my job really easy over here,” Mat groans a little, his fingers digging into your hip. “Can feel how wet you are, babe.”

“Good,” your voice hiccups into a whine when Mat’s fingers slip under the edge of your panties, tracing around your clit delicately. “Harder, Mat, please.”

You wiggle your hips again and Mat presses a kiss to the back of your neck, murmuring for you to be patient.

His hips rock into yours and you feel his hands at your ass, moving fabric and caressing your skin until the hot ridge of his cock is pressed against your skin, making you hiccup a gasp. You’re soaked, ready for him and Mat is too gentle when he shifts you into position, lifting your leg so it’s pulled back a little, giving him room to slide his cock into you easily. He groans into your hair as he slides home, buried deep in your cunt.

“Feel so good, baby,” he mumbles, holding your leg up for you and starting to move. His cock glides easily, slicked up from your arousal, and you angle your hips backwards to take more of him.

You whine his name, needy and greedy as he fucks you slowly.

“I got you, I got you,” he chants, kissing your neck and behind your ear. One of your hands reaches back and buries in Mat’s hair, tugging gently, while the other digs at his wrist, holding his fingers in place while he toys with your swollen clit. You rock against his hand as best as you can, belly making smooth movement difficult.

“There we go,” he coos in your ear. “Almost there, can feel you clenching around me.”

Mat’s dirty talk is what finally pushes you over the edge, orgasm hitting like a truck, sparks flashing at the corner of your vision. You’re breathless, moaning his name and burying your face in your pillow as you come around his cock, Mat following you over the edge a few thrusts later. He fills you and you shiver, going limp in his arms.

You’re overly warm now, hot from the inside, and your shirt sticks to your back. Sweat beads at your hairline and you wince when Mat brushes his nose against your temple. “I’m gross now,” you complain, the baby rolling in your womb from the increase in your heart rate.

“Never,” Mat nips at your earlobe, slipping out of you and using his hand to wipe at the come splattered on your inner thighs before shifting your panties back into place. “You’re gorgeous, my fucking perfect wife-to-be.”

“Flatterer,” you accuse, curling up in his embrace with a tiny yawn. “Next time I want it harder,” you say, biting gently at his forearm where it’s banded over your chest.

You can feel his smirk when he replies, “if that’s what wifey wants.” He says it, but you know he won’t go as hard as you’d like because he doesn’t want to hurt the baby. Which is sweet, but you’re definitely trying to change his mind on that.

Mat lets you cuddle with him for a little bit longer, until you really start to feel gross and need a shower before you start getting ready for the day.

While you use the big shower in your en-suite, Mat showers in the guest bathroom and changes the sheets so you emerge from the Sol de Janiero scented steam to a clean fiancé and a freshly-made bed.

“I’m going to make sure everything’s set up downstairs,” Mat says, watching you slather your body in lotion. He reaches out to tap the bump, pressing his palm flat against the curve. You grin, willing the baby to kick so he can feel it. Nothing.

“Okay,” you nod, pulling on a pair of his sweats. Comfort is key right now. “It should all be ready to go.”

You’re having a little ceremony in the house before going out for the reception/dinner. It’s low key and easy, two things that you’re very happy for right now. The bigger party will be this summer, baby in tow. But it had been important to you that you and Mat were married before the baby comes. So, living room ceremony, officiated by your dad in the middle of Mat’s February break it is.

You’d picked up the marriage license yesterday, had the flowers delivered last night.

Your parents and Mat’s parents had flown in earlier in the week, Liana following two days ago. Beau and Emma arrived yesterday afternoon, ignoring your invitation to use the guest room in favor of a hotel, explaining that as much as they loved you both, listening to your sex life wasn’t something they wanted to do again, not after the tropical vacation where your rooms had shared a wall.

It’s not like you can blame them, not when you consider what you and Mat had gotten up to less than a hour ago.

“Last chance to make me go get ready at Bo’s,” Mat teases, pushing his hair off his face.

You shoot him a wry look, cupping the lower curve of your belly. “Hmm, I think we’ve blown that superstition out the window,” you reply. “Besides, you don’t have any plans to pull a runner, right?”

“Not a chance,” Mat says firmly, as if you could ever think otherwise. “You got me for life, Squeaksy.”

“Good,” you tilt your head up for a kiss, smiling against his mouth.

——

Mat disappears for a bit, but you can hear him rattling around downstairs and you assume he’s moving chairs and flower arrangements, so you’re not concerned.

While he does whatever he’s doing, you prop your phone up against the mirror on your vanity, thumbing open Tik Tok with the intention of creating a video diary of the day. Maybe you’ll edit it for Instagram, but right now it’s just for you.

“Well, it’s February fifteenth,” you smile into the camera, “and Mat and I are getting married.”

You shake your head, feeling a little silly for talking to the screen, and continue, “Dad’s officiating and we’re getting married in the living room. A fancy shotgun wedding.”

“I’m so excited to be Mat’s wife,” you can’t help the giant smile that spreads across your face, digging out your Dyson to dry your hair. “I’m so excited to be this little bug’s mom,” you pat your stomach and giggle, thinking about how much your life has changed in the last few years.

“Let’s get this party on the road,” you say, stopping the recording so you can fix your hair.

An hour later, you’re sweating slightly and a little out of breath, but your hair is dry and twisted into a casual up-do. It looks worse than the inspo pic, but better than you thought you’d be able to manage. So you’re treating it as a win.

Mat reappears and you catch sight of him in the mirror. “Hey!” You smile at him. “Did you fall into Narnia or something? What happened?”

“Had to make sure everything was set up,” he shrugs. And then his hands appear from behind his back, a pastry box in one and a smaller wrapped box in the other. “Plus I had a quick errand to run.”

Tears prick at your waterline, heart melting at Mat’s sweet surprise. “You got breakfast?” You ask, voice wavering. “How didn’t I hear you leave?”

“I’m a super spy,” Mat sets both boxes in front of you and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Got you a ham and cheese croissant so eat at least a few bites of that for protein before you go right for the sugar.”

“Yes, dad,” you tease, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. Mat’s eyes twinkle and you roll yours at him before pinching off a corner of the ham and cheese, nibbling at it slowly. Morning sickness is in the rear view, but you don’t want to tempt it today. Your eyes keep flicking over to the smaller wrapped box, about the size of one of those perfume sets with lotion and a rollerball along with the full sized bottle and wrapped in, of all things, birthday paper.

Around a mouthful of chocolate croissant, Mat says, “in my defense, I thought it was going to come wrapped and I couldn’t find wedding paper last minute.”

A laugh bubbles in your chest and you pick up the box. It’s lighter than you expected. “Yours is in my night table drawer,” you say, rubbing your stomach for exaggerated effect. “Can you go get it for your pregnant fiancée?”

Instead of getting up, Mat rolls backwards on the bed and reaches for the drawer, withdrawing the small wrapped box. Navy blue paper, because you have nothing but time on your hands.

“You go first,” you encourage him, tipping your chin at the box, wiggling excitedly in your seat. You’re not sure who originally brought up the idea of wedding day gifts, but once you’d decided to do it after Valentine’s Day, it was easy to fold the gifts into one and you’re excited for Mat to see his gift. “From me and Baby B.”

Mat’s jaw drops when he opens the Rolex, its royal blue and gold face twinkling under the overhead lights. “Shit, babe, this is so cool,” he turns it in his hand, thumb brushing over the face. He gives you a beaming smile and leans in to kiss you deeply.

“It’s vintage, 1997,” you say. “And I stole one of your other watches to get the band on this one adjusted, so you can wear it today.”

Mat’s already got the watch on his wrist before you even finish your sentence, turning it so he can see what it looks like from all angles. “Shit, I love it. You shouldn’t have spent so much,” he says, eyebrows drawing together.

“It’s from me and the baby,” you shrug, laughing a little. Your fingers play at the messy edges of the wrapping paper on your gift. “Besides, you deserve it. We love you.”

He shakes his head and tells you to open your gift, wrapping paper falling away to reveal two black velvet jewelry boxes nestled inside an old Amazon box. Mat’s wrapping abilities, or lack thereof, never fail to make you smile. It’s your turn for your jaw to drop when you pop open the boxes to find a huge emerald cut amethyst cocktail ring and a matching necklace, the amethyst set horizontally on the chain.

“Oh, Mat,” you gasp, blinking rapidly to clear your vision. Tears are your new best friend, crying at the drop of a hat lately, but especially when Mat’s being sweet. “These are…”

He ruffles a hand through his hair, looking a little sheepish. “I, uh, talked to the girls. Amethyst is the February birthstone and obviously a wedding isn’t a birth, but I thought it would be a cool thing,” he explains. “And I’ve never seen you say no to a ring.”

You both look down at your hands, dainty gold stackable bands on most of your fingers, and you huff a little laugh. “Yeah, I need to take a few of these off for today,” you say, already pulling a few off so you can slide the cocktail ring onto your right ring finger. It’s a perfect fit.

Mat stands up and takes the necklace, clasping it around your neck and brushing his lips over your temple. The amethyst settles nicely into the notch between your collarbones, the setting cool against your skin. “Glad you like them,” he whispers.

“You’re such a sap,” you wipe at the tears again. “I love you, like a stupid amount, Mat Barzal.”

——-

Mat watches you finish getting ready, flopped on his back on your bed and commenting on your makeup choices until you threaten to spray him with the glittery hairspray left over from Halloween.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, hands up in surrender as he backs off into the walk-in. “No glitter bombs.”

“That’s what I thought,” you stick your tongue out at him, laughing. Mat shoots an innocent, boyish grin at you and disappears to his side of the closet to get dressed. He shuffles around and you hear him bang into the wall, mutter a curse, and open a drawer. “You okay in there?”

“Fine,” he calls back. “Wall’s in a different spot than I remember.”

You laugh faintly at his terrible joke and smooth your palm over your stomach, murmuring to the bump, “your daddy is terrible at telling jokes.”

“I heard that,” Mat shouts out, laughing too. You don’t bother replying, instead propping your phone up and changing quickly into your dress. It’s a white cashmere sweater dress, comfortable and warm for the cold February day. The soft material stretches over your bump, highlighting the rounding swell and making you smile when you turn to the side and cup your hand under the bump.

A giddy bubble of excitement fills your chest, the baby rolling around and nudging up against your stomach. You’re so excited to make your little family with Mat official.

“You decent out there?” Mat calls.

“When has that ever stopped you?” You shout back, only slightly sad that you’re not having a traditional wedding experience. There’s no reason for Mat to not see you in your dress before the ceremony, not since it’s a simple, little thing.

Your fiancé steps back into the room, looking handsome as sin in his dark navy suit, hair brushed off his forehead. No tie, because why be so formal when you’re just getting married in the house? Selfishly, you love the peek of his chest and collarbones through the unbuttoned collar, the glimpse of his chain around his neck. He’s adjusting his cuffs and when he looks up at you, his jaw drops a little and his eyes twinkle.

“Hey,” Mat grins.

“Hey, yourself,” you reply, feeling giddy.

“You look,” Mat pauses, coming closer and letting his hands rest on the swell of your stomach, thumbs brushing over your belly button, “gorgeous.”

A warm flush heats your face and your smile softens. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself,” you tease lightly.

Mat’s hands roam over your stomach, heating your skin through the cashmere, and sending the baby on a wild movement. He hasn’t been able to feel the kicks yet, but you’re hoping it’ll be any day now.

“Never gets old,” he says, dropping a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before finishing, “seeing you full with my baby.”

“You’re a caveman,” you shake your head, shrieking a giggle when Mat pulls you against at his chest, your stomach bumping against his, and kisses you hungrily. One hand rests in the curve of your lower back, but the other is splayed protectively over the bump.

“Just wait,” he mutters against your mouth, voice a rough growl, “gonna put another baby in you as soon as I can.”

You brush the tip of your nose against Mat’s, pretending you’re unaffected by his words, even as your stomach flips with excitement. “Mhm,” you hum, lips brushing against his cheek, while your hands wander under his jacket and around to his back, “a little hockey team of mini-Mats? Don’t have to work too hard to convince me.”

“Next year we can get started on the twenty-three man roster,” Mat jokes, hugging you to his chest. You snuggle up to him, making sure not to smudge your makeup on his shirt, and relax into his embrace.

“Lets hold off on baby-making until this one’s here,” you grin against his chest and hold your left hand up in front of his face where your engagement ring twinkles in the bedroom lighting, “and until you’ve made an honest woman of me.”

Mat snorts a laugh and you nudge his stomach before stepping back and rolling your eyes at him. He smirks, “babe, that ship is so far sailed it’s in Australia.”

“Mean,” you pout, tugging at the lapel of his jacket. “You can make it up to me by joining me for a little video. Wedding day fit check?”

“Whatever you want,” he replies, brushing a kiss to your temple. You beam and shift so you can set up the recording on your phone, Mat settled in at your back, chin resting on your shoulder and palms splayed over your stomach.

You wave at the camera, smiling, and start narrating, “hi everyone! I’m posting on a delay, but today this guy,” you jab your thumb over your shoulder at Mat and he gives a little wave too, “and I are getting married.”

After a brief pause, you continue, “little bit of a shotgun situation and I’ll give some more details later, not all of them, but some. For now, how about a quick fit check?”

Mat’s hands shift to your disappearing waist, holding you steady so you can lift your foot and show off the navy velvet heels you’re wearing. “Sam Edelman,” you explain. “A perfect match to Mat’s suit.”

“The unconventional wedding dress,” you cover Mat’s hands with yours and smooth them over the bump, “is Tom Ford.”

The dress isn’t technically maternity, just sized up a bit, and it fits over the bump and your pregnancy boobs like a glove. The hem flutters around your shins, long sleeves and mock turtleneck making it a little more modest. But Mat presses his lips to your exposed shoulder blade and you’re reminded of the triangle shaped cut out on the back.

“Mat’s also in Tom Ford,” you step slightly to the side, so his suit is fully visible. He gives the camera a smirk and tugs you back into place so you can finish and get downstairs.

You show off your new jewelry, described as gift from Mat without mentioning that he got it from Anthony, his private jeweler in the city. A quick mention of the Tom Ford Rose d’Amalfi perfume you’d bought especially for the wedding and don’t plan on using unless it’s a special occasion.

“And finally,” you giggle, turning to the side and outlining the bump, “baby bump courtesy of Mat Barzal, baby daddy and soon-to-be husband.”

Mat cradles the bump and tugs you back against his chest, looking right at the camera to say, “off to make an honest woman out of Squeaks, see you guys!”

“Joke thief,” you accuse, wincing as the baby gives a particularly forceful kick to your side. Behind you, Mat gasps a little into your hair, his palm flattening and pressing harder against the spot where the baby just kicked. “Wait—“ you murmur, eyes wide. “Did you -?”

“I just felt a kick!” Mat yelps, excitement radiating off of him. He turns you in his arms, a huge grin splitting his face. His hands never leave your stomach, pressing against the spot. Baby kicks again and Mat’s smile seems to grow impossibly wider. “Holy shit, she did it again!”

His eyes are a little glassy, his smile crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

“She?” You hiccup, emotion clogging at your throat. You’ve been waiting so long for Mat to feel the baby kick and it just seems like the little bug was waiting for the perfect moment. You press your thumb against the inner corner of your eye, trying to stem the tears that are gathering.

Mat shrugs. “Just a feeling,” he says. “Could be a boy with that strong kick. Shit, I don’t care one way or the other, I just want to feel the kick again.”

You hold your breath, waiting. Mat taps the side of your stomach, but the baby seems to be done for now, settled into a comfortable position.

“Later,” you promise him, watching his smile fade slightly. “Give me a full fat Coke at dinner and bug will be rolling around like a lunatic.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he laughs, giving your stomach one last tap before kissing your forehead and letting you slip away to grab your phone. You tap the screen to stop the recording, thrilled that you got Mat’s reaction to feeling his first kick on video. That one will be just for you.

—-

Mat leaves you sequestered upstairs so you’ll be surprised by the way the living room has been transformed, his words, and you’re briefly bored until you hear the front door open.

Suddenly, there’s plenty of noise and commotion. downstairs. You can pick out Liana’s voice and your mom’s. Then the chatter of children signalling that your friends are here too, all on time for the relaxed ceremony.

Soon enough, you’re joined upstairs by Liana, Sydney, and Holly, all three of them showering you in compliments before passing over your bouquet of pale roses and eucalyptus.

“Mat said he felt a kick?” Liana exclaims, pulling you into a hug. “I want to feel!”

You laugh and guide her hand to the spot where you’d been elbowed a few minutes ago. “Maybe here? Bug is chilled out in there.”

After a few seconds, when it becomes clear Liana won’t feel anything, she frowns and pulls her hand away. “Kid’s already being difficult, like their dad,” she shakes her head.

Bo appears in the doorway, grinning at you, with Tulsa held in his arms. “I think everything’s ready down there,” he says. “I was sent to retrieve the bride. Also,” he adds, “you look beautiful.”

“Consider the bride retrieved,” you joke, following everyone out of your bedroom and out onto the second floor landing. “And thank you.”

They all traipse back downstairs and you’re left alone for a few minutes, completely calm and more than excited to get downstairs to Mat.

You stroke the curve of your stomach and whisper, “let’s go down to Daddy, huh, Bug?”

The baby rolls around in agreement and then the music starts and in a blink you find yourself downstairs, barely registering the transformation of your living room and all your excited guests. Your only focus is Mat, standing by your fireplace, a soft, goofy grin on his face.

He mouths “hi” at you as you come to stand in front of him, immediately grabbing your hand and leaning in to try and kiss you. Everyone laughs, including your dad, who, as a retired Nassau County judge, is officiating the ceremony.

“Save that for later,” he jokes, getting laughter from the crowd again.

Mat grins and says, “sorry, can’t help it,” before letting your dad take over again.

The ceremony is a blur, you cry your way through your vows and through Mat’s, wiping delicately at the tears gathering. You’re grateful that everyone is taking pictures and video, because you’re barely able to process Mat’s vows as he says them.

Mat’s hand is steady as he slides the pavè diamond band on your ring finger, but yours shakes while you push the gold band over his.

Your dad announces you as husband and wife and Mat doesn’t wait for his cue, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you close so he can cradle your cheek in his other hand and kiss you deeply, dipping you back slightly and chuckling into your mouth. You gasp a little as your back arches, giggling against his lips while you return the kiss.

He pulls back a little and kisses you again, your friends and family whooping and cheering for you.

“Ma belle femme,” Mat whispers against your mouth when he pulls back again, the French endearment hitting right in the chest and making your stomach flutter with joy. “Je t’aime.”

“I love you, husband,” you reply, equally quiet, barely audible over your dad announcing you as Mr and Mrs Mathew Barzal. It barely feels real, but the baby kicks and your hand is at the side of your stomach, a huge grin hurting your cheeks.

Mat kisses you again and you wave your bouquet a little, immediately bombarded by your mom and Nadia and Liana, three sets of arms wrapping you up in hugs. It’s not a typical wedding, so everything is a little chaotic, with all of your guests happy to smother you and Mat in love. His hand never seems to leave your body though - fingers laced through yours when he accepts a hug from Syd, pressed up against your side when Bo gives him a handshake and back-slapping hug.

Your face hurts from smiling, the pure excitement at finally being Mrs. Mathew Barzal making you a little dizzy.

Holly presses a bottle of water into your hand and grins, “drink, girl. You look a little pale.”

After sucking back half of the bottle, you shrug sheepishly. “It’s been a minute since I had anything to drink,” you admit, “between the baby and the excitement I didn’t want to have to run off to the bathroom, mid-vows.”

Mat’s hand is on your lower back, fingers absently stroking as he chats with Marty, Casey, and Beau. You look over your shoulder at him and feel your grin go stupid. He must feel your gaze, because without looking away from his conversation, he taps at your lower back and says, “we’re heading out to Primehouse in a few, Squeaks, but do you need to eat something before then?”

“No, I’m okay,” you assure him and wrinkle your nose at Holly when she starts teasing you about how cute you and Mat are.

——-

The party moves to Primehouse for dinner, Mat’s Defender leading the parade of cars to the steakhouse. You giggle when you see it, paint-markered words across the back window proclaiming you and Mat ‘Just Married’ with little doodles on the back passenger windows that look like they were courtesy of the kids. Someone even tied a string of cans to the back bumper and your dad shakes his head, cutting them off before you can drive away.

“That’s a traffic hazard and I’d like you three to get to the restaurant in one piece,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“Don’t worry,” Mat assures him. “I never would’ve driven with that on.”

“Liar,” you whisper to your husband - husband! - knowing he had mentioned adding cans to the back of the limo for your summer wedding, claiming they looked cool.

Mat nudges you into the car, giving your dad a winning smile until he pulls the door shut behind him and leans over the center console to grip your chin in one hand and lean his face down to yours for a kiss. You hum into his mouth and then one of the cars behind you honks, startling you away from Mat, laughing loudly.

“Get a room!” Noah and Beau shout simultaneously, laughing while Marty hits his palm on the back window. Mat flips them all off and gets the car started, leaving his hand on your stomach after he’s shifted into gear. The baby kicks at Mat’s palm and he grins widely.

“Shit, I love that,” he laughs, tickling your stomach gently with the tips of his fingers while he drives. You squirm and press your hand on top of his, flattening his fingers in place.

“Stop that,” you grumble, “I’m going to pee my pants if I laugh.”

Mat grins at you and shakes his head, flipping his hand over and lacing his fingers with yours. “Got it, first stop at Primehouse is definitely the bathroom,” he wiggles his eyebrows as he talks and you shake your head at him.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Mister Barzal,” you retort primly, sticking your nose up in the air with a faint giggle. “I’m a married woman now, I’m keeping it classy.”

“You’re my married woman, Mrs. Barzal,” he shoots back, eyes twinkling delightedly. “I like you a little dirty.”

You wink at him, smile splitting your face. “I’ve heard married sex can get stale, let’s make sure that never happens to us, okay?” You squeeze his fingers lightly and he squeezes back.

“Babe,” Mat replies seriously, turning to look at you as he pulls to a stop at a red light, “that is never going to happen. I can promise you that.”

Mat’s serious expression makes your heart skip a beat and your throat clog a little with emotion. Damn pregnancy hormones. You only manage a little nod in response and Mat holds your hand for the rest of the short drive.

He opens the door for you after he parks and helps you down from the seat, closing the door quickly and pressing your back against it, so he can crowd you against the side of the car and cup your cheek to angle your mouth up to his for a kiss. You grin against his mouth, your belly pressed up against his making the baby kick wildly.

You lean happily into the kiss, melting under Mat’s touch. His free hand is warm on your waist, thumb stroking gently at your ribs. His leg tries to wiggle its way between yours, but is stopped by the knitted fabric of your dress and he grunts a little into your mouth, frustrated. You giggle.

“Love you,” he mumbles against your lips when the kiss breaks apart.

“Love you more,” you reply, breathless from the kiss and pregnancy. Your lips feel swollen and you swipe at Mat’s mouth the pad of your thumb to get rid of a smudge of lipstick. Ever the menace, your husband darts his tongue out to lick at your thumb before capturing it with his teeth and sucking at it gently. You press your fingers against his cheek and shake your head against the flood of warmth between your legs, clit twitching. “Stop that, we’re respectable married people now, and we’re in public.”

He lets go of your thumb with a little pop and wipes off his spit for you. “The only respectable thing about us is that we’re married,” he laughs, placing his hand on your lower back and guiding you into Primehouse. To the hostess, who smiles widely at you, clearly recognizing Mat, he says, “is everything all set up?”

You look back at Mat slightly, wondering what exactly he has planned. You’d just booked the private room for dinner with everyone. He just winks at you.

“Yes, sir,” she confirms, nodding. “Everything is ready for your party and you and Mrs. Barzal can head right down to the Reserve Room.”

She gestures down a hallway and you let Mat nudge you along with a press of his knuckles against your lower back. The hostess calls out a ‘congratulations’ as you head off and you turn your head back to smile a thanks at her.

Mat holds open the door to the Reserve Room and you step inside, gasping when you see how he’s had it transformed. The room is covered in the same flower arrangements that decorated your house and there’s a flower wall installed against the back wall, a neon sign spelling out your new last name. Tears flood your eyes and you turn to face Mat, completely speechless.

He smiles softly at you and wraps his hands around your wrists to bring one of your hands to his mouth so he can kiss your palm. Your heart kicks into overdrive and you feel the tears slip down your cheeks. “Like it?” He asks, pulling you to his chest.

You nod against him, tucking your nose against the notch of his collarbone. “You’re the best,” you whisper against his skin. “Seriously, I wasn’t expecting it to be decorated here too.”

“I know,” he strokes his hands up and down your back. You can feel his chest vibrate under yours when he laughs. “I wanted to surprise you with a reception that looks a little more like a reception.”

You didn’t quite realize just how much you wanted a reception until you saw the decorated room and now you can’t stop crying, overwhelmed by Mat’s thoughtfulness and how well he knows you. He keeps rubbing your back, holding you in place, while you cry. You’ll be doing a bigger party over the summer, but something about having the private room decorated means more than all the other planning that’s happening. Especially since it was all Mat’s idea to surprise you.

“Everyone’s going to be here in a bit,” Mat whispers in your ear. “I told them to give us some time, but I think you might want to clean up. Not that I don’t love the raccoon look…” He trails off with a laugh and you give him a watery one in return, swiping underneath your eyes.

“You are the sweetest man alive,” you murmur, leaning up on your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I can’t wait to see you be a dad.”

He waves you off to the bathroom with a wide smile that betrays his nonchalance at your comment and a love tap to the ass.

By the time you come back, all tidied up and ready to party, the rest of your family and friends have arrived and appetizers are making the rounds. You snag a spring roll and accept a hug from Liana.

“Big sis!” She teases, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Finally official. How does it feel to know you’re never getting rid of my brother?”

“Oh, he was already baby trapped,” you deadpan, breaking into a smile when you spot Mat across the room, thumb wrestling Jack for the last pig in a blanket on the tray. Jack wins and you can hear him chirping Mat, your husband laughing delightedly. Your heart squeezes, just a few more months and you’ll get to see Mat with your baby.

“Ugh, god,” Liana groans good-naturedly, “you have such a gooey look on your face. You guys are so gone for each other, it’s literally disgusting.”

You smirk at her, waggling your eyebrows like Mat, and lay it on thick, “he is literally the best man I know. Handsome, smart, funny, and the biggest d-“

Liana smacks her hand over your mouth before you can finish, your laughter cut off by her palm. She narrows her eyes at you, smothering laughter even as she scowls, “do not finish that sentence.”

Your lips curl up into a grin under her hand and your shoulders shake with muffled laughter until Liana releases you with a dirty look. “I’m sorry,” you gasp out, “I couldn’t resist.”

“I’m taking back everything I’ve ever said about how glad I am that you’re my sister,” Liana bumps your hip with hers. “You’re just as bad as he is.”

“They one hundred percent match crazy for crazy,” Emma teases, coming up behind you to loop her arms around your shoulders in a hug. Beau presses a kiss to your cheek and nods his agreement.

“I’ve never met someone who could out-yap Mat, but here we are,” he grins at you.

You lean back against Emma and chew at the inside of your cheek, a thought occurring to you. “Definitely going to bust out the Harley Quinn and Joker costumes for next Halloween,” you tease and pat your stomach. “Bug can be Batman, or Batgirl. But I’m kind of hoping for a little Batman.”

A mini-Mat would be fun, you think. But you waffle back and forth on whether you want a girl or a boy, mostly you’re just praying they’re healthy.

“No one needs another Mat,” Liana shakes her head before getting pulled into a different conversation.

You spend time wandering around and chatting, your mom or Nadia or Mat popping up at your side to make sure you eat and drink enough. You end up with Alice Martin on your lap at one point, eating your steak over her head while she goes to town on a lamb chop. There’s a smudge of sauce on your skirt and your shoes have long been tossed in a corner. You can’t stop smiling.

Mat loses his jacket, his sleeves get rolled up, and he makes a quick toast with Winnie Martin hanging off one arm and Tulsa Horvat dancing around his legs. Jack flicks a few peas off his plate at Reese and she shrieks, ready to start a food fight before Kristy snatches her hand up and pulls her onto her lap, keeping her contained.

It’s loud and it’s chaotic and it’s perfect.

Dessert is served and Mat pulls you onto his lap, one arm wrapped around your waist, palm resting on the side of your stomach. He strokes it lazily, absently, while he talks with your dad and his about the season. You poke at your brownie, uninterested, and look over at Mat’s cheesecake. He’s got his fork in his other hand, gesturing wildly, and you take the risk of taking a bite off his plate with your fork. He doesn’t notice, but Nadia does and she laughs faintly, shooting you a little wink.

Mat finally notices your dessert theft when half the slice is gone and he looks up at you, betrayal written on his face. “Squeaks! You ate my cheesecake?” He knocks your fork out of the way with his.

“What happened to what’s mine is yours?” You defend yourself, pushing your plate towards him in exchange.

“That doesn’t apply to dessert,” Mat retorts, incapable of keeping the serious expression on his face. He leans in and kisses you, in front of all your parents, which still makes your blush even though you’re five months pregnant and you’ve been dating for years. “Taste sweet,” he mumbles against your lips. He tastes a little bit like whisky, even though his last drink had been hours ago.

You shift on his lap, leaning harder against his chest, and let your fingers card through his hair. Mat leans into your touch and returns to his conversation as if the dessert theft hadn’t happened.

The party is slowly winding down now, everyone with kids having left, and you wonder briefly how long Mat reserved the room for.

“Hey,” Mat whispers in your ear, both hands on your stomach now. The baby’s rolling around, hopped up on your excitement and dessert. His thumb rubs against a spot where a tiny foot jabs you. The gold band on his left ring finger glints under the lights and you smile, tracing the tip of your index finger over the metal.

“Hey,” you whisper back.

“Wanna dance with me?” He asks. Mat’s fingers tap lightly at your stomach and the baby reacts, rolling and jabbing. “We never had a first dance.”

“No, we didn’t,” you reply, letting Mat set you on your feet and take your hand. “I don’t even know what song this is.”

The room isn’t really set up for dancing, not that had stopped the kids from finding a corner earlier and rocking out on their own. You’d joined in on the fun briefly too, shimmying until something in your hip had popped slightly painfully.

Mat tucks you up against his chest, holding your hand over his heart. “Me either. But I still think we’re supposed to dance at our wedding. For luck or something,” he jokes, swaying back and forth.

His cheek rests on top of your head and you lean into his warmth, feeling the baby nudge at your stomach. All three of you, together. Not quite the wedding you had pictured back when Mat proposed in June, but it might just be better.

Mat’s free hand roams over your back and you inhale the spicy scent of his cologne, happier than you’ve ever been.

“Or something,” you agree.

[tonicandjins]

learning languages | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | nct haechan x reader word count: 18.5k genre: university au, getting together, smut, fluff, angst summary: in which you're an exchange student and donghyuck teaches you the essential korean phrases you need, and eventually how to fall in love with him tag list: @smwhrinthehaze @byungbyungbaek @sundamariis @thiccfullsun @yesohhsehun @haechoshi @najmnluvr @liz-zo @heyitsconysstuff @magicastle @novawon @gaeulswrld author’s note: I’m so sorry it took so long, but here it is! I imagine conversations with everyone in Korean, except for Mark! 😊 I imagine the conversations with Mark in English. I also have 0 knowledge with the Korean language except from the common phrases every Kpop fan knows lol. So please bare with me and feel free to correct me! ^^ Please also consider tipping me if you want to! NCT Dream is coming to my country this April and I’d love to see them if I could :) TIP ME HERE.

날씨가 추워 (nalssiga chuwo) – the weather is cold

The rain is pouring when you arrive in Incheon. 

It’s not as harsh as it is where you come from, but the February breeze still makes you shiver and curse under your breath, and while you’re wallowing and pouting over the fact that your first day in South Korea is not going as well as you wanted, Mark is chirpy—a little too happy for your liking. 

Of course, Mark is happy. Your bitterness over the weather is not going to spoil his energy, the exact same one—maybe stronger—he has had over the past couple of weeks, counting down the days he’d be back in Seoul, finally. Mark has told you that it had been over a decade since he last visited South Korea, and the Student Exchange Program from your university had been the best opportunity for him to come back after so long, too long. The stupid smile on his face somehow makes you feel better, especially when he jumps from his seat when he sees his childhood friend walk towards your area. 

Renjun is handsome like the picture that Mark sent you a week before your flight to South Korea, but it feels a little unfair that he’s even more attractive in person. His voice sounds like honey and the corner of his eyes crinkle when he smiles as he approaches you and Mark. 

They jump into a tight, dramatic hug that makes a few other people in the waiting area look, but the boys don’t care. Mark lifts Renjun up from the ground, it’s almost embarrassing. The sight makes you feel warm. You wonder how Mark feels. 

It must be amazing, you think, to finally meet someone you’ve been longing to see. Mark had always expressed his yearning for the place—the people, the friends he always had to leave behind when visiting during summer—and it makes you wonder how it feels like to have friends and family away from you. 

Evidently, this is your first time to be away from home. You live (or used to at this point) in a dormitory, a two-minute walk to the campus, a good hour away from home, but you always went home whenever you craved for your mother’s dishes. You’ve never considered living away from home. Sure, you had plans to move out eventually, but not in a different time zone, not in an entirely different culture. Mark, on the other hand, is frequently moving around, dragging his suitcase from place to place, leaving people behind and promising he’d come back when he can.

Born in Canada, Mark had been to more places that you could count, but he has told you many times that nowhere else feels like home, like Seoul. He’s told you many stories of the time his family lived there for a few years before going back to Canada, of his annual visits in the summer, and of his devastation when life had caught up with him that he had to stop visiting when he turned eleven. 

You remember his voice, its tone and emotion, when he called you a couple of months ago, informing you of the exchange program that the university’s administration had posted on the students’ corner, and how fucking amazing it would be if you could sign up with him. 

“It would be a good addition to your credentials,” he had told you. “It’s not going to be for a long time, a semester at least. And we have the option to stay the whole academic year if we wanted to! Plus, I already know a lot of people there. We’ll be fine!”

“I don’t know, Mark,” you had answered, feigning hesitation, even when you knew deep down that Mark had already convinced you by the tone of his voice when he revealed the news. “I’ve never been that far away from home. Remember when we went camping in ninth grade? I cried. For three whole days. I’m not going to survive a semester. Besides, I know not a single Korean word.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he had begged. “Think about it. You’ll be with me the entire time. If we pass the screening, the program will sign us up for free Hangul lessons—though, let’s be honest, I don’t really need it.”

“Why do you have to bring me anyway?” you had asked out of curiosity.

“Because I know you’ll love it there,” he had answered. “Your obsession with studying culture and languages will be satisfied because there is no better way to learn a culture than experiencing the whole thing with your best friend!”

You remember humming in response, as if you’re thinking deeply about it. Mark sighed on the other line, his words making you laugh and finally agree. 

“The chances of Mom letting me go is bigger when I tell her you’re coming with me,” he had admitted. Mark, upon hearing your agreement to his proposal, began listing out the places he would take you. The phone call lasted for three more hours and it had seemed like Mark already had an entire plan in his head before he even asked you if you would go with him. 

Passing the program had been easy and so was acquiring your visa. What was truly the pain in the ass, you admit, is learning the damn language. You salute Mark for being able to speak Korean so fluently, but he’s shit at teaching you and you had to rely on the free lessons you had taken every weekend and your favorite language mentor, Lee Minho in Legend of the Blue Sea. Your Korean is awful. Your tongue is a little too short, too stiff, for said language, and the situation almost makes you back out of the entire program and ditch Mark. 

But here you are, still shit at Korean, but standing among hustling people and waiting for your best friend to wrap up the moment he’s sharing with his long-time friend. Renjun finally catches your eyes as you awkwardly watch them on the side, your backpack becoming heavier each second you’re standing on the airport tiles. He pulls away from Mark, smiling, beaming towards you and offers a handshake. 

“Hwang Renjun,” he introduces. You remember their last names go first here. “Nice to meet you.”

It almost startles you when he speaks English. Mark forgot to mention his friend is fluent, you think. 

You tell him your name, voice smaller than it usually is, and express your relief that he speaks English. 

“I’m originally not from here either,” he explains. “I’m Chinese. My family had to move here before I could even properly pronounce words for my Dad’s work. Went to an international school, where I met Mark back in second grade.”

So, he’s cute and multilingual. How unfair.

“And I’d love to chat longer,” he says, switching to Korean now, before you can even respond. “But Hyuck is waiting in his car. We could talk on our way to your dormitory. For now, let’s go. Hyuck hates waiting.”

“Hyuck drove? What happened to your car?” Mark asks, helping you with your luggage and pushing the cart himself. Renjun insists to carry your backpack, and he had already gently pulled it from your shoulder before you could refuse.

Mark and Renjun talk about Hyuck, both switching to speaking Korean now, on their way out of the arrival area and it doesn’t take long for them to spot their friend’s car outside. The rain had stopped pouring by the time you’re settling yourselves inside their friend’s car. The second you settle yourself on the leather seat, you sigh in relief. Traveling is a lot more exhausting than you had initially thought. 

Renjun sits on the passenger seat, right beside Hyuck, you assume, and Mark settles himself beside you.

“Mark Lee,” Hyuck greets, looking at Mark through the rearview mirror. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

It takes you a second to understand what he said. It’s only then that you realize you really are in Korea. 

“Lee Donghyuck,” Mark responds in the same tone. “You’re real. I’m happy to see you in person and not just through Facetime. I want to hug you.”

“Am I better looking in person?” Hyuck teases. “Hug me when we’re at your dormitory. I’ll even kiss you on the lips if you want to.”

“Disgusting,” Mark grimaces. “By the way—” He turns his attention to you the same time Hyuck begins driving. “This is Y/N.”

Hyuck only smiles, nodding a little to you through the rearview mirror, brushing his brown hair using his fingers to fix it up. Renjun begins to ask how the flight was and Mark replies. All three boys strike up a conversation in Korean and it was all too much, too fast, for you to catch up and understand anything, so you stay quiet on your seat, leaning against the window, and begin to wonder how things will go for the entire spring semester you’ll be spending in this foreign city. 

Mark never told you that the drive from Incheon to Seoul is long, so far that you didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep.  When you arrive at the dormitory, it’s past six in the afternoon and Mark’s friends ask kindly if you want to go out for dinner. Politely and quite incoherently, you tell them that you’d like to stay. Mark insists on staying home with you and unpacking your belongings, but you urge him to go, spend some time with his friends and walk around. Mark hesitates, but agrees nonetheless, promising he will come back in an hour.

The place the program had picked for you and Mark is not that bad. It’s nothing like home, but it’s not bad. It makes you wonder how Mark does it. You remember not being able to sleep on the first few nights on your dormitory’s bed when you were a freshman. Mark had never told you if he’s had trouble adapting to places he’s been. Maybe you could ask him in the morning. 

The exhaustion hits you again upon entering one of the rooms. Room assignment is yet to be decided, but Mark wouldn’t mind if you sleep on one of the beds while he’s out. And so, you sleep. 

You don’t remember what you dream of. And Mark wakes you at seven in the morning, reminding you that you had to unpack and go grocery shopping. Momentarily, you forget where you are. It hits you the same way it does in his friend’s car. You’re in a different country. A different language. A different time zone. 

It doesn’t feel like home at all even though it’s cold. But you guess you’ll have to make it work. At least until the semester ends. 

약속해요 (yagsoghaeyo) – I promise

When Mark told you he knew a lot of people in Seoul, you should’ve known he was bluffing because he literally knew only seven people.

Mark Lee’s friends are warm and loud and somehow you feel out of place when they all decide to hangout where you and Mark are. It’s the first week of the semester, and you have completed all the orientation and tour you need; Mark, on the other hand, is still catching up with everyone.

By everyone, he meant Kevin Moon, a senior who is also Mark’s cousin’s long-distance boyfriend who happens to be studying in SNU too, Hwang Renjun from Natural Sciences, Lee Donghyuck from Music, Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin from Engineering and Architecture, Zhong Chenle from Humanities, and Park Jisung from Business Administration. Which is why every day, for the past five days, you’re at a place called Arcade, with Mark and two or three people from their group.

It turns out Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin were Mark’s friends from childhood, the others are friends by extension.

Huang Renjun, you understand why Mark is closest to him among all. He’s soft all over but sharp in the mouth. Renjun, you learn, likes to talk about life and likes to give people advice when they need it. He’s reserved with other people but is the complete opposite when he’s with his friends.

Lee Jeno is shy. He normally joins the group after his internship at a construction corporation in the outskirts of Seoul, which is why you haven’t really seen him much—only twice. You haven’t had that many conversations with him yet, but he’s kind enough to pass you the ketchup when he sees you staring at it from the end of the table.

Zhong Chenle and Park Jisung are best friends. There’s not a day that you have not seen either without the other, kind of reminds you of how you and Mark are. They join whenever one is available—two peas in a pod.

Na Jaemin is the closest with Lee Donghyuck. You see them talking in their bubble more frequently than the others. Jaemin is mysterious and a little cold—the complete opposite of Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, well, you’ve got a lot to say about him.

It isn’t necessarily an uncomfortable feeling, because Mark’s friends are kind enough to slow down when they talk to you and are quite protective of you, especially when a random stranger bravely comes up to you to introduce themselves. Lee Donghyuck, in particular, who’s as warm as the sun touching your skin at nine in the morning and whose voice is careful and assuring, ensures that you’re never out of place—even when you feel it all the time. From the day the semester started, there hasn’t been a day when Donghyuck isn’t hanging out with you and Mark at Arcade.

Mark normally picks you up from class because thank God your schedules are aligned to each other despite having different majors. The College of Social Sciences is quiet, unlike the building right beside you, College of Music, and Mark usually takes five minutes to find you, because you can’t trust yourself to walk around on your own—at least not yet. But today, Mark asked if you could meet Kevin first because his girlfriend had something for him from Canada.

“Hyungseo!” You hear someone call, making you look up from your phone to see Kevin walking towards you. He stops and turns around, a girl you’ve seen around the college of social sciences once or twice running towards him.

“Don’t forget to bring the laminated cards we need for Friday!” the lady shouts. Kevin gives her a thumbs up and turns back to you.

“Y/N, right?” he asks in English. You nod. He offers a hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t met personally yet. But I’m Kevin.”

“She called you Hyungseo, though,” you trail off, accepting the handshake anyway. “I’ve seen your pictures from Giselle’s phone, so I knew it was you.”

He laughs. “Hyungseo’s my Korean name. You should’ve packed her with you.”

You reach for your bag and hand him the box that’s been sitting in your backpack all day. “Here,” you say. “No plans on visiting sometime soon?”

Kevin sighs. “I wish I could,” he answers. “It’s not as easy as we thought.”

“You guys sound okay though,” you comment. “I mean, Giselle always sounds so happy when she talks about you back home.”

This makes Kevin smile. “Oh, she does?”

“Why would she think of getting you a gift all the way from home if she’s not?” you ask, biting your tongue as soon as the words come out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”

“Let’s talk about this over some soju when you find a dude you want to spend the rest of your life with here,” he jokes. “Thanks for bringing this. You and Mark have been so busy; he’s been declining all my invitations to hangout.”

You sigh, “Yeah. It’s only the first week and there are lot of things we had to do. I’ll ask him if we can hang out on the weekend?”

Kevin agrees and hands his phone to you, asking to put your number so he could call you. You do and tell him you’re grateful you could talk to someone in English aside from Mark and bid him goodbye when he leaves. You shoot Mark a text, telling him you’ll be waiting for him and that Kevin’s dropped by to get his gift from Giselle.

Hence, you wait outside, busying yourself with your phone, trying to avoid any interaction as much as you can, and you don’t notice Donghyuck standing beside you until he taps your shoulder and gives you a warm smile.

“Mark is running late,” he says slowly. “Let’s go to Arcade together.”

You smile at Donghyuck’s attempt to pronounce Arcade how you would and nod at him. He leads the way out of the building, his backpack on one shoulder, and asks you how your classes are so far.

“It’s okay,” you answer because it’s all you can think of. “Thank God my professor in Psychology speaks English.”

Donghyuck hums. “It must be difficult for you.”

“It is,” you confess.

Among everyone you have met so far, Donghyuck gives you the feeling of comfort; you’re not exactly the most outgoing person nor the least—you were in between. You were okay with that. And you were okay that Donghyuck is okay with that, too. He doesn’t push you to speak more (probably because he knows you most likely do not know how to say whatever you had in mind), but can be very persuasive when there’s a hint that you’re relaxed.

Lee Donghyuck is bold and charming and amiable like nobody you’ve ever known. Normally, or at least with how you’re used to, people are a little more reserved around people they just met. And culturally speaking, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to be so forward and already so comfortable hanging out with you, what more with having conversations like this.

“Don’t worry, though,” he assures. “You’ll be fine. You’re here for about six months, anyway. I promise it’ll be the best six months of your college years.”

He’s also bright like this—optimistic and kind and assuring. You’re glad Mark is friends with people like him, with Donghyuck.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you try to say, a phrase Mark taught you the other night. “Did I say that right?”

Donghyuck giggles, stopping and reaching up to ruffle your hair. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

“That, I am,” you joke back, more comfortable around him now.

“I promise,” he says. “It’ll be so good; you wouldn’t want to go back to Canada.”

한국말 잘 못해요 (hangugmal jal moshaeyo) – I don’t speak Korean well | 죽을래 (jug-eullae) – Do you want to die?

Donghyuck turns out to be a better teacher than Lee Minho and Mark Lee combined. He gifts you a small, pocket-friendly notebook, asking you to keep it for the rest of your stay, notably commenting that the material’s size will allow you to bring it everywhere you go. Hence, the tiny, brown faux leather notebook is safely tucked between your necessities inside your bag.

The first sentence he teaches you turns out to be the most essential: I don’t speak Korean well.

Donghyuck takes you to a café called 7 Days, an entirely different vibe compared to Arcade. You don’t question Donghyuck when he puts an arm on your shoulder as you walk together inside the café, but he asks you right away when he must have felt you stiffen from the touch: “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you. “Here, have a look around and I’ll get you something to drink before we decide what we want to eat. I have the perfect drink for you!”

He goes before you could say anything. You look and realize that the café is not so bad. Its aesthetic is the complete opposite of what Arcade’s going for—cozy, serene, almost like a good place to study or sleep in, whatever you need to survive the day—and the Biscoff latte is bomb, you don’t think you can drink latte differently now.

Conversations with Donghyuck could, well, unfortunately, go only where your limit is. He’s fun and likes to tell a lot of stories, but it’s always interrupted with you asking what a word means and him pulling up his phone and have his translation app say it for you. He makes jokes that you regrettably do not understand, but Donghyuck doesn’t take it to the heart and only says: “By the end of the term, you’ll be saying these jokes to Mark Lee.”

Donghyuck excuses himself to go to the toilet about an hour later and allows you a few minutes by yourself, which you happily spend taking pictures of the interior of the café. You sigh when you realize you didn’t take a picture of the Biscoff latte when it was full and pretty. Someone taps you on the shoulder, and it could only be Donghyuck, so you turn with a smile.

“I forgot to take a picture of the drink—Oh.” It’s not Donghyuck. “I’m sorry, how can I help you?” you ask politely.

The man towers over you and he smiles warmly. Your cheeks flush when he does, because you probably mispronounce each syllable from that sentence. “I’m Sanha.”

You bow courteously, still have 0 idea why the man is talking to you.

“I don’t see you around often,” he says. “And I’m here, like, almost all the time unless I have a class. My dad owns the place. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s… okay,” you say. Sanha chuckles, and your face is hot you probably look like a red potato now. “I mean, not just okay, I just can’t find the words to—”

He takes Donghyuck’s seat. “I can teach you,” he offers. “We can meet up here, and—”

Donghyuck calls your name, voice firm and monotonous like never before. “It’s getting late. Mark texted me to take you home early because Chenle’s making dinner at your place.”

You look at Sanha apologetically, still unable to reply properly so you only say, “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck doesn’t give you the chance to say anything more because he’s already helping you out of your seat, turning you around so you could start walking towards the door, pushing you until you’re out of the café.

You hear him sigh as you walk away from the café, arm around your shoulder like how you entered the place.

“Y/N, my sweet pea,” he softly says. “Please don’t to talk strangers.”

You shrug, “It’s not like I could just ignore him when he was already taking you space.”

He scoffs. “When strangers start talking to you and being all brave and upfront, you tell them: I don’t speak Korean well. Then just start hitting them with English words and exaggerate your accent. That’s how Mark Lee tries to avoid conversations with girls sometimes because he’s a loser and women make him nervous.”

“I don’t speak Korean well,” you repeat, slowly pronouncing each syllable.

“Where’s the notebook I asked you to bring everywhere?” Donghyuck asks. “Write that down.”

You nod and tell him you’d do it later. Donghyuck leads the way towards the stop just in time for the bus that’s about to leave. You and him hop in, taking the seats in the back, giggling when Donghyuck almost topples over as soon as the bus starts to move. He lets you sit by the window and starts telling you about how his sister always fights him to get the window seat and he’s never won so he naturally just gives people the said seat.

You’re nearby the next stop when you ask him: “Donghyuck, what if I tell people I don’t speak Korean well and they wouldn’t stop bothering me?”

Donghyuck looks nice in his brown, fluffy jacket, face bare, his eyeglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He looks even nice whenever he smiles like this.

“Y/N, do you know how cute you are?” An answer you don’t expect. “You’re so cute when you ask questions like this. I want to put you in my pocket.”

“Donghyuck,” you sigh, expecting a serious answer.

He reaches up to pat your head. “You won’t have to worry because we won’t let you be on your own unless you ask us to stay away. Especially me. Not me. I’ll make sure to take care of you and Mark while the two of you are here.”

You nod, still not satisfied with the answer. The Sanha situation awhile ago makes you realize how helpless you’d be if you weren’t with Mark or any of his friends. Donghyuck probably notices your dissatisfaction when he feels like you’re sulking, which you definitely are, because he chuckles and pokes your cheek to get your attention again.

“If it makes you feel better,” he says. “You could always ask them if they want to die.”

“That’s mean!” you gasp.

“Or tell them to fuck off,” he shrugs.

“Donghyuck!”

“What?” he asks. “It’s not like I don’t hear you and Mark say ‘fuck you’ to each other every day.”

You laugh at that. “Saying it in Korean hits different.”

“Right!” Donghyuck agrees. “I’ve been telling people saying fuck you in Korean has more impact than in any other language. I can say the word fuck every day.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” you joke.

Donghyuck coos. “Oh, I’m so proud of you. You’re cracking jokes now.”

The bus halts at your stop, and Donghyuck helps you up by taking your hand the way he’s helping you learn the language. It’s only when you’ve reached the street to the apartment you share with Mark that you realized you’ve been holding hands all the way from the bus stop.

저 알러지 있어요 (jeo alleoji iss-eoyo) – I’m allergic

“Do you not understand what you just did, Mark Lee?” you ask in disbelief.

It’s only a month into your stay in Seoul, and Mark does the dumbest thing ever. Mark Lee comes home with a pet cat.

There were three rules for the spring semester, three very specific and very easy rules: one, to always text each other’s location as soon as you step foot outside of the apartment (which you and him are constantly compliant about; you love Mark Lee for that); two, to never skip a class unless you’re sick (you’re only here until July; Mark decided he’s not wasting a single day in Seoul, even if it means going to classes on time and by schedule without fail); and lastly, don’t keep things you won’t be able to take back home.

Mark had said that these rules are specifically for you because rule number one ensures your safety, rule number ensures you get the real Korean education experience, and rule number three apparently ensures you’re not leaving anything important at the airport when you leave—which now you think is bullshit. The rules are more for him than you, but you love Mark Lee, and it’s not like the cat isn’t cute.

“But, Y/N,” Mark pouts. “She kept on staring at me with these eyes when Renjun was busy comparing brands of dog treats. It was like her eyes were calling me, asking me to take her home!”

The calico cat is a baby; Mark said it’s not even five months old yet. It’s the last from seven siblings, the last one to be adopted (and you think Mark is only telling you this to convince you this is a good idea. She jumps out from Mark’s lap and goes to you, staring at you first before settling herself on your lap.

“She loves you already!” Mark comments.

You sigh. “Mark. You know we can’t take her home, right? We’re leaving in like, five months.”

“Which means I have five months to convince our friends to adopt her while I’m in Canada!” he answers enthusiastically, his eyes almost sparkling with the way he’s talking. “I couldn’t just leave her there. My heart wouldn’t allow me to leave without her!”

“Fine,” you give up. “Don’t cry on me on the plane back home when we leave her.”

Mark chuckles. “I think I should be more worried about you crying on the plane back home.”

Someone knocks on your door before you can ask what he means by that. It’s Mark who stands and welcome the person, and of course, it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Saturday. Saturday means Donghyuck comes and hangs out at your place because he no longer has to work in the university library on the weekends. He’d quit, saying his big mouth isn’t fit for the library, and had asked the school administration to reassign him to another facility. Part of his scholarship is to work at least 16 hours a week in one of the university’s facilities. He’s paid, of course, but Donghyuck says he’s not paid enough to keep his mouth shut for 16 hours a week. The admin asked for a week to figure out where he’d be assigned next, so he had this entire weekend all to himself, which, to how it looks like now, he’d decided to spend with you and Mark.

Mark lets Donghyuck in. The latter’s smile falters when he sees you; he only gives you a curt nod. And it’s not like you’re expecting Donghyuck to cuddle you on the couch, alright? It’s just that, you’ve known each other for a month now, and have hung out together a handful of times—just the two of you—and he called you yesterday telling you he’d come hangout with you and Mark for the weekend, even said something about teaching you to play Apex if you have the energy for it. And it’s not like he’s obligated to come sit beside you as soon as he enters your apartment, but you’re confused when he sits on the single couch far away from you, stance uncomfortable and his face looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

Mark’s voice fades away when he asks Donghyuck what their plans are, to which Donghyuck answers: “I’m actually just here to say hi. I’m leaving in a bit.”

“No way,” Mark protests.

“Or we could go out?” Donghyuck offers.

“Uh-uh,” Mark refuses. “Y/N has been excited all morning to see you. You’re not going to disappoint her today.”

“I didn’t say anything—” You try to say, but couldn’t translate what you want to say quick enough. “Donghyuck obviously doesn’t want to be here.”

Over the course of a month living in Seoul, you and Donghyuck had grown closer more than anyone. It would be ridiculous to deny Donghyuck’s seemingly unceasing affection towards you, and in the same manner, it would be a lie if you’d say you’re not enjoying all the attention he’s been giving you. Above the flirty and friendly advances he makes (but never crossing the line), Donghyuck has grown to be a good friend. During the first couple of weeks, you would refer to him as Mark’s friend; it’s safe you say you’re friends with him now.

Donghyuck’s decided to pick you up from the college of Social Sciences, convincing Mark that his building is literally next to yours and that a ten-minute walk to Arcade with you is not going to hurt him—Mark’s been walking with you for many years anyway, he would mumble under his breath, close enough for you to hear but distant enough for you to understand what he truly means. Hence, with the growing friendship you have with him, you wonder what you had done this time.

“It’s not like that,” Donghyuck answers the question you had in mind, both hands raised in defense. You raise an eyebrow. “That.”

Donghyuck points at your lap, Mark’s unnamed cat sleeping soundly now. Oh.

“I’m allergic,” he explains. “I can’t be around one within like a five-meter radius otherwise, I would, like, you know, die.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Mark comments. “Are you really?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck confirms. “The allergens are getting to me. My throat is starting to close up. I have to leave now.”

This startles you and Mark, the latter quickly taking the calico cat from your lap and quickly taking it to his room. You reckon the cat’s allergens are all over you so you sit as far away as you can from Donghyuck.

“It’s fine,” he assures, but he already looks like he’s choking. “It’s not that serious. They usually just give me allergic rashes and kind of triggers my asthma. So, we’re good.”

“But you have a dog!” you remark. “You never told me you’re allergic to cats!”

He chuckles, “Well, you learn something every day.”

“There are some anti-histamine tablets from the cupboard,” you point out, still seated where you are. “I probably have allergens on my hands; please go get yourself one.”

Donghyuck does what he’s told, taking one and opening the fridge to get himself a bottle of water. You tell him you’re changing your clothes and ask him to wait up, offering to go out and have a meal with him instead.

Mark knocks on your door a couple of minutes later, finding you dressed up, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Donghyuck said he’d wait outside. You look nice.”

“I know I look nice,” you say as you go back to your vanity to throw whatever you’d need for the day in your small dumpling bag, including a box of Benadryl. “You’re not coming with us because you have cat all over you.”

Mark chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Donghyuck literally told me the same thing. He’s growing on you,”

You only hum in response, checking your bag for the last time before walking towards the door where Mark Lee is still leaning on, the same smirk playing on his lips still plastered.

“What?” you ask.

Mark doesn’t say anything, but he raises and shows you his right hand, sticking three fingers up.

먹었습니다 (meog-eossseubnida) - The meal was good.

Seoul National University’s library is as quiet as it can be; it’s almost scary how the only sounds you’d only hear are the faint sounds of pages being flipped and pens gliding on notepads, and the eerie echoes of the tension coming from students who are either cramming on an assignment or jumping from one subject to another in hopes of getting everything they read retained in their head.

Donghyuck used to tell you this is the exact reason why he didn’t like working at the library. It’s too quiet but too loud at the same time. You chuckle at the memory of him telling you anecdotes of his short-lived employment in the library and wonder how different it is being the soccer team’s laundry guy. He’s probably pouting all the way from the beginning of his shift until the end.

“Here,” Jung Sungchan disrupts your thoughts, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “I found these, maybe it could help bridge the gap we’re struggling on.”

You and Sungchan are paired up for a two-week long assignment for one of your major subjects. The objective was to present a summarized and substantial report on the welfare state, and you think Sungchan must have tripped on all the bad luck in his life to have been paired up with someone who couldn’t speak Korean that well, because, well, the books they had are mostly in Korean. If speaking and understanding Korean is a struggle for you, reading the damn language is hell.

“This is a good thing,” Sungchan assures. “There are resources online that are mostly in English. We can combine everything we find and construct the report from there!”

You nod and hand over the book you’re reading before he arrived, explaining that you found a chapter that could be very helpful. The boy fires up his laptop and starts accessing the website your professor had recommended you to use.

Sat side by side, you and Sungchan study in silence, except for when he asks you to read an article for him and explain what it means. The session lasts for hours, thank God you and him didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and within those hours of studying with Sungchan, you can’t help but notice the looks you were getting anytime someone passes by the two of you.

It’s no secret that Jung Sungchan is probably one of the most attractive men in the university. He’s tall and has skin that’s as clear as a day in summer, smile that could swoon a lot of people off their feet, broad shoulders that’s probably carrying the entire hockey team for this year’s season—and yes, it doesn’t help the fact that Jung Sungchan is the most popular jock at the moment, apparently for hard carrying the team to win last year’s trophy, ending Seoul National University’s 10-year drought and awakening the school’s love for sports back. And you think it’s quite unfair that people like him exist. Because you would expect that he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about his grades because he’s essentially SNU’s hero at the moment, but he’s not. Jung Sungchan, you learn, takes his degree in Social Sciences very seriously.

And it’s evident with the way his eyebrows are furrowed as he reads the tenth book he found from the shelves.

“I think this part makes more sense now,” he points out, leaning closer so he could show you the article he’s reading. “In residual regimes, welfare-seeking units are primarily family and market. On the other hand, in the institutional welfare regime, the function of providing welfare belongs directly to the state.”

“But countries with different social conditions and lifestyles should have differed in terms of welfare states,” you argue. “We have to consider that the development of industrialization and production growth could be very different from one country to another.”

Sungchan hums. “Good point. Perhaps we can find more of that from Wilensky and Lebaux’s work. Do you have the book over there?”

You nod and hand him the book. Just as Sungchan flips the book open, Mark occupies the seat across you.

“We’ve been calling you,” Mark whispers to you, then turning to look at Sungchan. “Hey, man. Mark. Y/N’s best friend.”

Sungchan gives him a polite nod before going back to the book. You raise an eyebrow at Mark and slip your phone from the pocket of your backpack and find all the missed calls from him, Renjun, and Donghyuck.

“My phone’s been on silent for like, I don’t know, four hours,” you tell him, slipping your phone back to your back. “And I texted you I’d be at the library.”

“Yeah, like four hours ago,” he answers. “I didn’t think you’d really stay here for four hours. Anyway—” Mark pulls out a lunch bag and slides it across the table. “Donghyuck made this for you. He figured you’d be hungry.”

It’s only then that it hit you. The last meal you had was that bagel you had for breakfast on the way to school, which you had seven or eight hours ago.

“My sweet Donghyuckie,” you coo, thankful for his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Mark. Sungchan and I will share because we’ll be here until we finish at least the structure of the report.”

“It’s getting late though,” Mark points out.

Sungchan clears his throat. “I can drive you home.”

“Great!” Mark exclaims, which earns him multiple shushes from the other students studying. “Sorry. Great!” he says again, in a whisper this time.

Mark bids goodbye to you and offers a handshake to Sungchan, telling him he’ll see him often in the next two weeks or for as long as you and him are paired-up on your major subjects. Sungchan gives him one last assurance you’ll be home safe.

You ask Sungchan to take a break and open the lunch bag. Inside it are two bento boxes full of food, too much for one person, and you don’t take another minute to wait. Sungchan must have been hungry too, because he doesn’t refuse when you offer the other half of your meal to him.

You’re not really sure how much longer you and Sungchan stay in the library, but as soon as you’ve finalized the structure of the report and have agreed on assigned topics, he suggests that you and him go home and meet up again on Friday so you can start assembling the presentation. And as promised, Sungchan drives you home, glad when he realized your apartment is only ten minutes away from his.

It’s already ten in the evening when you reach home. Mark’s probably already sleeping, you think when you don’t see any light peaking from smallest of the small space between his door and the floor. It’s late anyway, and you don’t really have much energy to tell him about your day like you always do. In fact, you don’t even have the energy to shower anymore, and because you don’t like sleeping on your bed with your outside clothes, you opt to sleep on the couch tonight.

The last thing you do is shoot Donghyuck a text message: “The meal was good.”

삼각관계 (sam-gak-kwan-gae) – love triangle

Jung Sungchan invites you watch to one of his preliminary games the day after you completed the report with him. Mark teasingly tells you that you have boys wrapped around your finger not even two months living in Seoul. You deny the claims, of course, because Sungchan is nothing but a good friend and you don’t see him as anything more.

Donghyuck is the first person you think of when Sungchan gives you two spare tickets for the game, and you like to think that it’s only because you don’t want Mark teasing you and accusing you of romance all afternoon, and also because Donghyuck has a car and Mark is a shit navigator so you can’t trust him to commute with you from the university to the indoor arena where the game is being held.

SNU’s team wins, of course, and you proudly cheer for Sungchan, which earns you a side eye from Donghyuck. You shrug it off and pretend that you didn’t see.

“Can we go now?” Donghyuck asks, bored, when people start leaving the arena.

You shake your head. “Sungchan asked me to wait for him after the game.”

“You know that barbecue place I told you we’d go to?” Donghyuck reminds. “We can go there—“

Your phone rings. It’s Sungchan. Donghyuck sighs.

“Congratulations, nerd!” is the first thing you tell him. Sungchan thanks you, laughing from the other end of the call, and apologizes that he can no longer meet you because the team’s been hogging him the second they won the round.

“It’s fine,” you assure. “I’m with Donghyuck, anyway. I’ll see you at school?”

“No, no,” Sungchan answers. “There’s a small celebration party at Shotaro’s house. It’s a twenty to thirty-minute drive from your apartment. I’ll send you the location. Go there.”

Sungchan hangs up, and not even a second later, you receive a text from him, a location pinned on the message. You show the message and pout at Donghyuck, and he’s looking at you all bored, rolling his eyes, before nodding and taking your hand so you and him could leave the arena.

The drive to the place takes about an hour from the arena, and you spend it singing along to Michael Jackson’s songs.

“You have a really nice voice,” you comment. Donghyuck laughs.

“Baby,” he says. “I wouldn’t be pursuing a career in music if I had a shitty voice.”

The nickname gives you a flush, and you could only hope Donghyuck wouldn’t notice.

Almost two months into meeting Lee Donghyuck, you find yourself unable to keep your heartbeat down whenever he does things like this—calling you nicknames, randomly showing up in places where you are just to say hi, holding your hand, texting and calling you every day, spending his weekends and times off with you, and doing simple and domestic things for you—and your heart tells you it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with a whirlwind romance in Seoul. Donghyuck doesn’t ever hesitate, and the fact that you’re holding back means you really like him. But the rational part of you says it’s not really a good idea to be in a situationship with someone who will most likely forget you as soon as you go back to Canada, and you can’t afford a heartache from miles away. Besides, Donghyuck probably isn’t that serious with whatever that’s going on.

Rumors say (by rumors, you mean Chenle and Jisung) that Donghyuck is the type of guy who dates one girl after another. Because he’s bold and charming and amiable and likes to expand his choices, and he finds that there’s nothing wrong with dating as long as he doesn’t date multiple women at the same time. You haven’t really seen him out on a date since you had met him. Rumor (Chenle) says that he’s been single since fall of last year and had committed to stay single this year because of the messy breakup and also because he’s on his last year of college, he’d need to focus on stepping up his game if he wants entertainment companies to fight over him as soon as he starts looking for agencies after graduation. Another rumor (Jisung) says he’s rejected many women who have tried to sleep with him since news broke that Lee Donghyuck is newly single. The rumor says he’s as popular as Jung Sungchan when it comes to women, which, if you’re being honest, gives you some kind of pedestal to walk hand-in-hand with him in the university grounds. You realize now that you get the same look from women when you’re with Donghyuck like the stares you got whenever you and Sungchan are stuck in the library for hours of studying.

The only difference is that, well, you like that people stare at you with a hint of jealousy whenever you’re with Donghyuck.

“Why haven’t you invited me to your gigs?” you ask before you could even think about it. “Sungchan’s only been friends with me for like three weeks and he already got me tickets to his game. You, on the other hand…”

The car halts to a slow stop, Donghyuck’s phone telling you that you’ve arrived at your location. Donghyuck doesn’t switch off the engine though. He chuckles licking his lips, then poking his tongue on his cheeks, fucking with your heart and hormones in the process. He keeps his hand on the steering wheel and turns to look at you, eyes hazed in attraction like he’s pulling you in.

“Baby,” he says in a whisper almost. “I don’t like love triangles.”

“Love… triangles?” you repeat.

“Love triangles,” he says in English. “I fucking hate it. And we’re not about to go through that trope in our love story here. So, let me make it clear before we go inside and before you even think about sticking to Sungchan all night.”

You gulp.

“There’s no Sungchan in the equation,” he states like a command and you find yourself nodding, agreeing. “It’s only you and me. Tonight, there will be a lot of people and none of them will be in the equation. Tonight, you’re sticking with me and we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Have fun with me and see if you want to take this to another level, because if you ask me, I’ve been dying to fucking kiss you since the semester began.”

This territory is new, and this Donghyuck is new, too. He’s always been affectionate and he’s never held back, but this new level of honesty is astonishing. Damn attractive if you’re being honest.

“Come here,” he says, ridding himself from his seatbelt. You do the same, leaning closer to him. Donghyuck holds your cheeks with both hands, smiling down at you before leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m not giving you mixed signals. This is me giving you a clear, direct sign that I like you and I like what we have, but I’d love to take another step. I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t really want someone to enter the equation while I’m trying to woo you.”

You giggle. “You already successfully wooed the romance out of me the second you started holding my hand, Lee Donghyuck. And no, there won’t be love triangles.”

Donghyuck’s honesty fires up some courage in you, and you like the feeling of watching him falter when you lean in, hand on the back of his neck, and kiss him for the first time. The man melts in your kiss and in your touch, but doesn’t wait for another heartbeat to kiss you back. And despite of the bottled-up and eagerness from both sides, the first kiss is soft the first time, featherlike and sweet. His lips are even softer than they look and his lips already look plump as it is, and when Donghyuck licks your lips and invites himself in, God, he makes sure you taste the sweetness from his mouth and in a minute you’re addicted and you kiss and kiss and kiss, lips locking, tongue gliding, breaths gasping.

It’s him who pulls away, leaving you with dazed eyes wanting, wanting, wanting more.

Donghyuck gives you one last kiss on the forehead. “Let’s go.”

이렇게? (ireoke) – Like this?

You don’t end up seeing Sungchan at all in the party, and you don’t mind because Donghyuck keeps you glued to his side. The party is fun, but you and Donghyuck decide not to drink a single drop of alcohol. To him, it’s because he has to drive. To you, it’s because you want to be entirely sober to remember whatever happens tonight.

Donghyuck makes out with you in the corner of the living room where people are crumpled, and you like that he doesn’t care that people see. He holds you by the waist and on your neck, and you get it now. You get why women are lining up to sleep with Donghyuck, because if he can kiss like this, what else can he do with his mouth?

You shoot a message to Sungchan with a selfie of you and Donghyuck, thanking him for inviting you to the party and telling him you’ll see him on your next class together (Donghyucks suggests you send Sungchan a picture of you and him making out.) and prompt to leave. Donghyuck says goodbye to a few people he knew, holding you by the waist all the way from the house to where his car is parked.

Donghyuck drives you to his apartment and tells you he’s told Mark you’d be sleeping at his place tonight. The drive itself was intense enough and Donghyuck’s doing an amazing job keeping his cool while you’re practically sweating from the passenger’s seat.

You don’t even get a good look at his apartment when you arrive, because Donghyuck’s already kissing you as he rids himself of his jacket. Donghyuck doesn’t kiss you softly this time; he kisses you like he’s leaving a mark on your mouth, almost like he wants to bruise his presence inside you. He helps you get slip out of your jacket, pulling away quickly to kick his shoes off, before carrying you bridal style and bringing you to his room, kicking the door behind.

Despite the roughness of his kisses, he puts you to bed gently, ridding himself of his shirt and kneeling on the floor so he could help you out of your socks. He leans up once he’s done, one hand on your jaw to pull you down for another kiss, the other caressing your thigh.

“Please tell me this is okay,” he whispers. You nod. “I need your words, baby.”

“Yes, Donghyuck,” you answer, breathless when he starts kissing your neck. “This is okay. Please touch me.”

Donghyuck pushes you a little so half of your body is lying on his bed, your feet flat on his carpeted floor, tugging the loops of your jeans, urging you to lift your hips so he can rid you out of the material. He pulls you back up to take your shirt off from your torso, then he’s helping you back up from the edge of the bed towards the headboard as he crawls on top of you.

“Donghyuck,” you gasp when he goes back to kissing you. You realize that Donghyuck like kissing with the way he’s using his mouth to imprint his presence in you, his tongue licking everywhere it can reach inside your mouth, and he tastes like mint and the soda he had at the party, and he’s everything that you want. “Touch me, please.”

“Like this?” Donghyuck reaches down to rub your clit through the material of your underwear. He rubs slow, teasingly, and kisses you on the mouth when you groan. He dips his head lower and kisses your neck; he bites and nips and sucks and you’re sure it’s leaving a mark you’d have to conceal the next day. “Want me to touch you like this, baby?”

A moan elicits from your throat, and Donghyuck doesn’t waste any more time. He slips his warm hand between your skin and your underwear, really touching you, rubbing your clit gently, his digits dragging itself on your slit slowly, gathering your wetness then going back to rub your clit again, more roughly with the pool of wetness his fingers have now.

“Like this?” he asks again, pushing a finger inside when he finds your hole, urging another moan from your lips.

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you gasp when he fingers you gently, your wetness making a sound when he adds another finger. Donghyuck takes his time, biting his lips as he watches you writhe underneath his touch.

“Pull your bra down,” he breathes out, and you do. When your breasts are out on the open, Donghyuck doesn’t waste time and locks lips with your nipple, sucking and licking as he fingers the sanity out of you. He alternates from fingering you with two digits and rubbing you using his thumb, and you’re all putty and messy under him, and you want more, more, more, more.

“Baby, please fuck me,” you beg. “Please, Donghyuck. Please fuck me”

Donghyuck hushes you. “I will, baby. I’ll fuck you so well, you’ll come running back to me tomorrow and the day after, and the day after.”

But he doesn’t. He pulls his fingers out, hold you by your jaw so you could lock eyes while he licks the proof of your attraction to him from his fingers, sucking and showing you just how well he could use his tongue. He doesn’t fuck you get but he rids you of the last garments from your body and does the fucking impossible.

Donghyuck eats you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. He swirls his tongue on your clit as he pushes his digits back in your hole, fingering you like it’s all he’s ever wanted, and he’s got you chanting his name like a prayer when his tongue laps your sex, even more when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. You’re writhing and screaming and Donghyuck’s holding your legs apart while he pleasures you with his mouth and hands.

You don’t want to cum yet, but Donghyuck’s so, so good, and it looks like he’s not stopping anytime soon. He tongues you back to your clit and fingers you with three digits, fast and rough.

“Donghyuck, I’m going to—” You see white and stars and you stay still when Donghyuck continues fingering you, moving all three fingers in an upward motion, reaching where you want him the most, mouth sucking your clit as you ride the first orgasm you’ve had in months.

Donghyuck lets you have your moment when it’s done, taking the time to lick the slick wetness from his fingers down to his wrist, kneeling between your legs. You push yourself up so that you’re sitting with your legs wide open, your palms flat on his sheets, head tilted for a kiss. Donghyuck leans over and kisses you again, and you never thought you’d like tasting yourself in his tongue. You guess everything tastes sweeter when it’s in Donghyuck’s mouth.

“Off, please,” you murmur, pulling the loops from his jeans. Donghyuck obeys, removing all pieces of clothing until he’s naked.

You marvel at his beauty, licking your lips when you finally see him bare and clean. His golden skin looks like honey and you want to kiss the fuck out of his collarbones and leave your mark for everyone to see. Your eyes travel from his chest down to the trail from his tummy down to his erect cock. He’s hard and red and you salivate from how big he looks and feel yourself getting even more wet at the thought of him fucking you. Before you know it, you’re reaching out, moving so you could kneel, and taking his hardness in your hand. Donghyuck moans for the first time tonight, and you plan to elicit that sound from him all night.

Stroking him slowly, you feel a rush of satisfaction when Donghyuck pants your name. “Oh my God,” he moans when you bend over, a palm flat on his sheets, your other hand stroking him as you take him to your mouth. He gathers your hair and watches you from above, and you purposely stick your ass up higher when you feel him twitch as you take more of his cock into your mouth. When you’re about halfway, you stroke the rest of what you can’t take and start sucking and licking, and Donghyuck makes the absolute best sound ever. You like his voice when he sings, but you don’t think anything could compare with how he’s whining your name as you suck his dick thoroughly, licking and jerking off whatever your mouth couldn’t fit. A part of you wants to ask Donghyuck to fuck your mouth, bruise your throat with his dick and cum straight down your fucking stomach if he wants to, but that could be arranged next time. This time, with his dick hard and wet from your mouth, you want him to fuck you.

You suck him one last time before you pull away, a string of your saliva following when you look up at Donghyuck. “Now, will you fuck me?”

Donghyuck looks fucked out, eyes dazed with lust, and you want nothing more than for him to ruin you. And Donghyuck doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He crawls back up until you’re lying on your back, legs wide open for him, and kneels between your legs. “Ready and sure?” he asks for the last time, stroking himself.

“Pull out when you cum,” is all you say and Donghyuck goes for it. He gives you a kiss and rests one of his forearms beside your arm, massaging the head of his cock on your opening until he’s stretching you out.

“Fuck,” Donghyuck groans when he feels your tightness. “God damn, Y/N, when was the last time you got fucked?”

“I—I can’t remember,” you say. “None of them were worth remembering.”

“And me?” Donghyuck asks as he pushes deeper until he’s fully stretched you and his pelvis is leaning against your clit. “Will you remember me?”

“Ask me next time,” you breathe out. “I think you’ll have to fuck me every day so I can remember.”

Donghyuck gives you some time, kissing you softly. “When was the last time you fucked anyone?” you ask in return.

“I can’t remember,” he parrots. “None of them were worth remembering. All I know is that this is the first time I’m feeling someone raw.” Then he bottoms out, gives you only half a second before he’s thrusting back and out and back and out and back and out, slowly but surely fucking you well.

Donghyuck fucks you like he means it. His hips snap roughly but makes sure you feel all of him before he thrusts out and he’s everywhere. His tongue is in your mouth, then on your neck, his free hand is caressing one of your breasts, playing with your nipples, and he’s making you feel so, so good and you’re not sure how you go back from here. You’re not sure how you could go on with life knowing how well Donghyuck can fuck you. He’s got you squirming and reaching your second orgasm only minutes into fucking the life out of you.

When you’re close, Donghyuck pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling again, and lifts both your legs, resting your calves on either side of his shoulders, hugging your legs so he can fuck you deeper in this angle. The precision makes you chant his name over and over again and he takes one of his hands down to rub your clit. You try your best to hold back from cumming because the way he’s fucking you now feels so damn good that you want it to last for a long time. He thrusts in and out quickly, his balls hitting the bottom of your ass again and again.

“Come for me, baby,” he says. “Let go.”

So, you do, and Donghyuck keeps on fucking you through it. Donghyuck lets you finish, before he’s pushing the back of your knees down so your thighs are pressed up against your stomach, chasing his own orgasm, and fucks you hard, without rhythm, until he is moaning your name like praise and he’s pulling out so he could release on your stomach. You reach up to caress his cheek as you watch him in awe as he finishes, his face contorted in pleasure, lips wet and eyes closed.

When it’s done, Donghyuck kisses you on the forehead and helps you clean up. He leaves to go to the bathroom for a minute to grab a warm, wet towel, cleaning your stomach, and carries you back to the bathroom with him. The shower is warm, and Donghyuck is gentle and sweet when he cleans you up, giving you kisses when he pats you dry once he’s gotten rid of the shampoo and body wash from your hair and skin. Donghyuck tells you there’s a spare toothbrush on behind the mirror and washes himself as you brush your teeth, naked but warm.

Donghyuck tells you to that the right side of his closet is where you can find the clothes he uses at home and you follow as he finishes cleaning himself up. You take the liberty to take one of his shirts that are still too big for you despite Donghyuck’s frame and slip a pair of cotton shorts.

Donghyuck finds you half-asleep when he’s done showering; he sleeps shirtless, you reckon, because he crawls to bed only in sweatpants. He cuddles you from behind, kissing the clothed shoulder, and the last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is him humming a song your mind can’t recognize and a promise that you’ll talk about this the next day.

You wake up to the smell of Spam, an empty space beside yours, and the sound of Donghyuck singing a song from BOL4, which you learned is one of his favorite musicians.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you when you find him in the kitchen, just about to finish pan-frying the last piece of sliced luncheon meat. He’s still shirtless, but is wearing a cute pink apron, and he gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s the most natural thing ever. The second his lips pull away from yours, you reach up and touch where he kissed, lips tingling—in disbelief that what happened last night is real.

“Good morning,” he hums. “Just in time for breakfast.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “Can we talk first?”

Donghyuck nods, offering that you sit on the high stool across the small kitchen island. He sits next to you, turning the seat so that you’re face to face, knees touching. “What do we want to do?” he asks.

“You know I’m leaving in like, four months, right?” you start.

Donghyuck whistles. “We just started and you’re already breaking up with me?”

“No, no,” you say, exhaling. “This… this. I like. You. I like.”

“Baby, construct your sentences properly,” he laughs.

“I like you,” you confess. “And I like this. I like holding your hands. And kissing you. And what we did last night. I’m just worried because—”

“Because you’re leaving,” he finishes for you. “I know, but I also like you a lot. More than you probably think. And I don’t want to miss my chance getting to know you more just because you’re leaving in a few months. I don’t know what you want, but here’s what I want, you let me know if it works for you, if not, then I’ll still be a friend. Who might cry for two weeks straight if you reject me.”

You laugh but urge him to continue.

“I want to date you, and get to know you even more. Your quirks, the things that make you angry, your comfort food, the movies that give you the ick,” he continues. “Your family, how you were raised, if you like Marvel or DC more, what Hogwarts house you belong to, if you like pineapple in pizza or not, whether you pour milk or cereal first, if you ever kissed Mark Lee, if Mark Lee’s ever had a crush on you.”

“What does Mark have—”

“Shh,” he stops. “It’s my turn. Talk later. Anyway, I want this—” he gestures the space between you and him. “And I want you. I want to keep teaching you the language and I know what’s ahead of us is scary, and there’s only two things that could happen: this is going to be either the biggest heartbreak of my life or you’re going to be the greatest love of my life. It’s a fifty-fifty chance, Y/N. Let’s just say I’m willing to risk whatever if it means I have 50% the chances of having you as the greatest love of my life.”

Oh. You don’t realize you’re staring quietly until Donghyuck holds your hand.

“Now tell me,” he asks slowly. “What do you want?”

You don’t hesitate. “I want you, Lee Donghyuck.”

일어날 수 있는 최악의 상황은 무엇입니까? il-eonal su issneun choeag-ui sanghwang-eun mueos-ibnikka? What’s the worst that could happen?

It doesn’t come out as a surprise to anyone when you and Donghyuck arrive at Arcade holding hands, a shy smile playing on your lips, a proud one in Donghyuck’s. You were thankful that there were no teasing remarks coming from your friends—that they were taking this so well, like it’s normal. Like it’s meant to happen anyway. There’s a knowing smirk on Mark’s stupid face, but you love him and you can’t wait to tell him all about how you feel towards Donghyuck. “Okay, so my birthday falls on a weekend,” Jeno announces. “And I think it’s the best time to go to the amusement park. Will you have work then, Renjun-ah?”

“Most likely,” Renjun answers, mouth full of food as he chews on a bite of pizza. “But I can have Yerim cover for me. I’ll just return the favor if she needs me one day.”

“Sweet!” Jeno exclaims. “So, it’s decided then. We’ll go to the amusement park on my birthday.”

As you and Donghyuck play footsie under the table, Mark stands, turning to you. “I’m going to get another milkshake. Come with me?”

You nod, kicking Donghyuck one last time and standing to follow your best friend. Somehow, you feel bad for not saying anything about your growing feelings for Donghyuck, considering that Mark is your best friend in the entire universe and you’re his. If it were him, he would’ve told you the second he caught feelings to anyone. But Mark knows you’re not the kind to admit feelings like this as soon as it starts inflating in your chest; he knows you’re the type to hold it in until you can’t anymore. Having had terrible relationships in the past, Mark has always known that you’re the kind to be careful.

“I didn’t think you’d actually go for it,” Mark says as soon as you and him are out of earshot. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for you. I just didn’t expect this to happen so quickly.”

“Me neither,” you mumble under your breath. “Sorry for not saying anything.”

Mark chuckles. “You didn’t have to. I mean, we all kinda always known this would happen. I just couldn’t imagine how you and Donghyuck sealed it so quickly, like considering how shy and quiet you always were whenever he was around.”

“I was shy and quiet with everyone around,” you remark. “Donghyuck taught me all these slangs and now I can’t stop talking.”

The woman in the counter asks you what she can help you with when you reach her. Mark tells his order alongside some sides Renjun had asked him to get. He leans on the counter, turning back to you. “Anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re serious serious.” Mark clears his throat. “Like, I’ve known you for so long and you’ve always been hesitant to do shit. I’ve always been the spontaneous and reckless one between us, and you’re the careful one. The one who thinks everything through before deciding on it—this trip to Seoul included on the long list.”

“Your point is?” you ask, even though you know exactly where this is going.

Mark licks his lips before continuing: “What I’m saying is, you’ve never been this certain so quickly.”

That’s right. Not to be cliché or whatever, but this is normally how it goes for you. Relationships used to be difficult for you—from the pining to the confession to its climax to its end, until the bargaining and acceptance—and you’d never been the type to go through things so quickly and easily. With Donghyuck, you’d somehow done it backwards (and Mark doesn’t need to know that you slept with Donghyuck before you even sealed the damn relationship) but for some reason, you had forgotten how you’re supposed to act around people you like romantically. It scares the shit out of you, the connection between you and Donghyuck, but you’ve always been a firm believer that if it doesn’t scare you, it probably isn’t something worth doing. It feels like jumping from a cliff, to the bottom of the unknown, and it’s new, but it makes your heart pound like never before.

“I don’t want to get ahead and say something that’d make you change your mind somehow, because I also like you and Donghyuck together,” he explains when you only stare at him. “But, as your best friend, with the best intentions only, please don’t go breaking your heart before we leave, yeah?”

You nod, understanding and appreciating Mark’s sentiment. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Mark shrugs. “We won’t really know. Take care, yeah?”

You smile stepping closer to hug Mark. “I love you, you know that, right?” he asks. You nod, your face buried on his chest. “Good. I’ll beat Donghyuck’s ass if he hurts you in anyway.”

“I sure hope you do,” you reply, just in time for the staff to call Mark’s attention, the tray of his order ready for him.

Donghyuck is pouting when you return, asking why you and Mark took too long because the seat beside him is all cold now. You kiss him on the cheek and tell him Mark just told you he’s beating his ass if you’re hurt in anyway.

“Mark can’t hurt a fly,” Donghyuck remarks. “What makes you think he can hurt me, huh?”

Mark scoffs. “You’ll be the first.”

계절과 계절 사이 (gyejeolgwa gyejeol sai) – between seasons

When the seasons start to change—from the rainy, cold spring transition to a warm, sunny summer—you and Donghyuck change, too.

From the euphoric blooming of your relationship—the playful dates, the passionate moments in his bedroom (because ever since Mark adopted that cat, Donghyuck could never stay at your place for longer than an hour), the heart-warming feeling of seeing him waiting for your after your class—to the warm, comfortable attachment stage, you feel like you know Donghyuck in a deeper sense now.

The small notebook he’d given you at the beginning of the term is halfway full, its pages messily scribbled with phrase and sentences you had learned—likewise the memories those words carry—and soon enough you find yourself more comfortable with the language, and eventually with Seoul. You find yourself enjoying, and not in a way that makes you think you’d want to visit again soon.

The journey with Seoul was initially a play to learn the language and its beautiful culture: a detour. A diversion from your plans. A stop while you figure out what you want in life. Your last year in university is supposed to be the year you finally decide what to do next. Visiting Seoul was an opportunity for you to really get to know yourself beyond your comfort zone, to really challenge your capabilities, to learn beyond what your hometown had in store for you.

But these days do not feel like Seoul is a place to visit.

In a way, liberating albeit frightening, you find yourself thinking that perhaps Seoul is a place to build a home in. The home is built from arms that hold you on days when it’s extra cold, your nose red and hands frozen, and its shelter is made from Donghyuck’s warm smile and the assurance of him being there for you. And right now, while you sit closely together at the back of your friend’s car, their obnoxiously loud voices singing to some pop song along the radio, you feel it: home.

Jeno likes the phone case you had customized for him, and he gives you a big, bear hug as soon as he take a peek of what’s inside your present.

“I love you. I literally love you with all my being,” he dramatically says as he squishes you.

“That’s my girlfriend, you idiot,” Donghyuck complains, pulling Jeno’s arms away from you. With the way you three are seated at the back of Renjun’s car, you sitting in between them, it’s uncomfortable and Donghyuck insists on taking part of the little moment you’re having with Jeno.

Jeno whines, “Let me love her. This is the best gift ever!”

Donghyuck ends up puffing air out of his mouth, pouting and leaning back so Jeno could hug you. You’re laughing and Jeno whispers how easily they could make him sulk these days because you’re around.

Mark, who’s sitting on the passenger seat beside Renjun, announces you’ve arrived at the amusement park, just as Jaemin’s car halts to a slow stop behind you.

It’s the first time you’ve ever visited the famous amusement park in Seoul, and Mark looks excited with the way he’s jumping as you line up for the tickets. Donghyuck has his arm around you, taking pictures with his other hand. The rest are chattering, talking about the rides they’d love to try.

The secretly group decides to stick together for the entire day to celebrate Jeno’s day, despite the birthday boy himself telling everyone they can go wherever they want to. You could see how much they really care about one another and they all just hide it in their mean, vile jokes. For example, the man who has his arm wrapped around you likes teasing Jeno like it’s his full-time job, but is hiding a birthday present inside the trunk of Renjun’s car (and would most likely give it before you all head home, act like his best friend’s birthday isn’t that much of a big deal).

Most of the day is spent following Jeno around, whatever ride he wanted to try and your ears ringing because of how loud Donghyuck is screaming. The temperature has gone from freezing cold to warm, the humidity making it a little harder for everybody to move around under the warmth of the sun.

“I never realized how much of a scaredy cat you are, Donghyuckie,” you tease as soon as you walk out of the roller coaster ride. “Not much of a tough guy now, huh?”

Donghyuck whines, “I liked you better when the words you spoke were only yes and no.”

Mark laughs, slapping Donghyuck on the back. “Oh man, that was really good.”

“Yeah?” You rebut. “And I liked you better when you weren’t screaming like a kid.”

Donghyuck smirks, “And I like you better when you’re screaming my name.”

Renjun and Jisung cough in disgust, and Mark just straight up slapped the back of Donghyuck’s head. “You two are disgusting. I can’t believe I live with you, Y/N.”

Donghyuck laughs, turning to you. “It’s pretty hot. Want me to go grab you a can of soda? Ice cold water?”

“Water, please,” you say. Donghyuck nods and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling Chenle with him and walking to the opposite side where a small shop is. In the meantime, the rest of you occupy the benches under a shade, Jeno asking which ride to go next.

Donghyuck and Chenle return in a matter of time, bottles of drinks in their hands. They give everyone their preferred drinks, Donghyuck sitting beside Mark and extending an arm so he could hand you your drink from his side.

“Fucking summer,” Donghyuck curses. “I hate summer.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Suddenly?”

“It’s not even summer yet,” Jaemin points out. “What happened to you? You’ve always been so excited about summer.”

“It’s so hot. I can’t stand this fucking temperature,” Donghyuck mumbles.

Renjun scoffs. “You start planning our summer getaway as early as March.”

“It’s already April and you have nothing yet,” Jisung points out.

“Yeah, what the hell, man. I hate your ridiculous ideas, but we can’t survive summer without you,” Jeno adds, then looks at Mark. “Yo, Mark, what about you? What are you doing this summer?”

You and Mark freeze, looking at each other for a second, before the latter speaks for you both: “We’re, uh, we’re supposed to go home.”

It seems like Jeno didn’t know the weight of his question because he apologizes as soon as he realizes it. The group falls into silence, no one says anything, or perhaps nobody could think of anything to say, not even you or Mark.

With your days in Seoul numbered, you realize now that you haven’t really talked about it—not you and Mark, not you and Donghyuck—and it never really felt real. You had always told yourself you’ll cross the bridge when you get there, and the bridge is nearby.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “The sun’s going to kill me. I think I saw a burger joint that has an air-conditioning system down the corner of that street. Shall we go there?”

Everybody agrees and stand to leave. Donghyuck holds your hand, pulling you close and steals a kiss on your cheek. The gesture makes your heart flutter. Donghyuck is warm, but not in the way the sun is hot right now—in a way that gets you thinking: can this warmth reach Vancouver?

Your skin hurts when the sunlight hits you. You hate summer.

 오해 하지마 (ohae hajima) – Don’t misunderstand

Donghyuck had a face that looked like what an artist would draw in a whim—spontaneously—like it was done in a rush, like a portrait from a park done by a street artist, something done with a pencil. Ink stains are harder to wash off, and anyway, figments aren’t mean to last—and he’s almost unrecognizable in this light.

You can’t recognize him on the night of his birthday.

His Mother had gone above and beyond and invited all of their closest relatives and family friends for his 23rd birthday, and it’s also your first time meeting them.

It’s nerve-wracking to say the least, but his Mother smiles at you kindly when she greets you from the entrance of the restaurant they rented for the evening. You could tell his family was wealthy, and it makes sense because Donghyuck got the most bare minimum job he could find, and it’s most likely because he doesn’t need to get one; he probably only got one so he could talk about work, too, just like the rest of his friends.

The birthday party is a surprise and it was Renjun who connected with everyone to make sure they attend here tonight. You had to make up some excuse to Donghyuck when he asked why you can’t join him for dinner with his family tonight and had promised to make it up to him the day after.

You’re sat in the same table as Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, a bit far away from Donghyuck’s family’s table, as you wait for the birthday boy, your present sitting on top of the round table. Mark talks about his cat, letting Jaemin watch snippets of his pet from his phone, and Renjun is narrating a story about his “ridiculous and absurd encounter with Liu Yangyang (and you and Jeno can’t pass up the opportunity to tease him about it).

Then, someone comes sit beside Jaemin, the boys gasping when they see her.

Karina is beautiful, and even saying that isn’t enough to describe the woman’s beauty. Soft-spoken and brilliant, Karina naturally allows everyone to gravitate towards her. All, including yourself, are pulled like magnet when she arrived. Jeno introduces you and you allow yourself to throw a quick and inaudible “hello” when she reaches over and asks you how you are.

Donghyuck’s Mother almost screams when she sees Karina, excitement filling up the air as she hugs her and thanks her for attending.

“I wouldn’t miss Hyuckie’s birthday for the world, eommoni,” Karina answers, and before you could ask Renjun how she’s related to Donghyuck, Jisung, who’s seated in another table with Donghyuck’s younger siblings, announces that the birthday man himself has arrived.

Donghyuck enters the hall, surprised and happy when he sees everyone, a dramatic cry leaving his lips as everyone greets him happy birthday. He feigns complaint, whining that he’s no longer eight years old, but hugs his parents anyway.

His parents thank everyone for joining a precious day and celebrating their eldest son’s birthday with them. Donghyuck bows and starts to go around to thank people.

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he finally reaches your table and he gives you small smile, hugging you quickly before moving on to the next person. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he goes to Karina, lifting her as he hugs her tightly, and thanking her for being able to come. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when his Mother joins the little reunion and he laughs when his Mother jokes about them missing each other too much.

“She’s the one who left me all alone here in Seoul,” Donghyuck pouts. “We wouldn’t have missed each other this much if you had stayed!”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Hyuckie,” Karina says, rolling her eyes. “You visited me in Tokyo literally six months ago.”

Six months ago, which means, it was right before you arrived in Seoul.

You want to be anywhere else but here, and you don’t want to listen any further, but the scenario runs like a comedy show and the punch line is you.

“You two better decide whatever the hell you want to do with your lives by the end of the year,” Donghyuck’s Mother comments. “I mean, no one’s stopping you from moving to Tokyo, Donghyuck. You and Karina can rekindle whatever light was burnt last year. I’m glad you stayed best of friends despite the long distance. You’ve always made a great couple.”

Your breath hitches like your lungs had just been punch. Donghyuck, it seems, finally remembers you’re watching this unfold. Mark holds you, and bless him because your legs feel like they’re about to give up. You and Donghyuck make eye contact, but you don’t recognize him at all.

“Eomma,” Donghyuck clears his throat. Everything else he’s said come out like a blur, and Mark is just holding you close.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Renjun whispers closely. “They’re just friends.”

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he watches you leave.

천천히 말씀해 주세요 (chun-chun-hee mal-sseum-heh ju-seh-yo)  - Please speak slowly | 집 (jib) - home

Karina turns out to be the one that got away. The one true love. The greatest love. The childhood best friend who’s always been there. The leading woman. She turns out to be the protagonist in Donghyuck’s story.

You learn all of these from Renjun. Even when he refused to say a single word and had begged for you to talk to Donghyuck instead, you learn the truth by asking Mark to ask Renjun.

Donghyuck and Karina. Karina and Donghyuck. Two peas in a pod. A tight knit. Knowing each other like the back of their hands. A buy one, get one kind of deal. Where one is, the other would follow. And everyone and their moms know that it has always been like that, will always be like that.

Donghyuck and Karina, born on the same year, grew up in the same small village in Jeju island. Having been inseparable since, they ended up moving to Seoul together in high school. Donghyuck’s parents were supportive of Donghyuck pursuing a career in music, and they believed that moving to Seoul was the first step for their beloved son to find his spotlight. Karina’s parents, however, couldn’t afford moving alongside the Lee family despite wanting to support their daughter, too. Donghyuck begged his parents to have Karina move in with them so her parents would only worry about paying her tuition and allowances. The Lee family agreed, of course, because Donghyuck and Karina were fifteen, and they were the best team the world has ever known.

Karina is a talented dancer, and with a face like hers, it would be a shame to keep her in a small town in Jeju island. Her moving to Seoul had been the first step to her early success, because as soon as she reached puberty and had gained a butt and a pair of breasts, agencies were scouting her, creepily waiting for her outside of hers and Donghyuck’s high school. She’d declined, of course, with a promise to Donghyuck that they’d go to stardom together, but Donghyuck wanted to study and make music, and he felt as though he needed to go to college for that.

Karina eventually moved to another dormitory when she started training. Donghyuck moved downtown to start college. They were in different places, but they were still inseparable.

Pretty much every day Donghyuck would meet up with Karina when she started training; if not, then he’d be on Facetime with her during the hours when she’s not working. He had brought her to SNU many times, and they had started dating by the time Donghyuck is in his second year. All the other guys know Karina and her place in Donghyuck’s life. Somehow, a bitter part of you feels betrayed that none of them ever mentioned about Donghyuck’s great love, but you can’t really blame them for not saying anything.

They broke up on the latter months of last year because Karina had to move to Tokyo. There was no big fight apparently, just the decision that it’s most likely not going to work because—listen to this; this is the biggest punch line of this comedy show—Donghyuck can’t handle long distance.

You had answered one of Donghyuck’s calls by mistake. He’s mad for some reason, perhaps angry of the fact that you’re ignoring him and he doesn’t have much control like he normally does.

“Y/N, for fuck’s sake, why haven’t you answered?” he had cried out as soon as you answered.

“I was busy,” was all you could come up with. You brain had not been working good enough to translate things to Korean.

“What do you mean you were busy?” he had asked, voice loud and angry. “You literally disappeared on me! On my fucking birthday! And I’m done playing nice and cool because this is unfair. Whatever the fuck you’re doing is unfair you’re not letting me in. If you could just let me explain, things—”

“Please speak slowly.”

“—would be easier for the two of us. Whatever Karina and I had, it’s been over since last year. It’s over way before I met you. I never thought of her, not even for a goddamn second since we got together. I wouldn’t fucking betray you like that—”

“I can’t understand you.”

“—and I can’t believe you don’t trust me enough to let me at least tell you what happened! I never mentioned her because I never even thought about her! My Mother doesn’t know anything! I’ve wanted you to meet my Mother for a long time, but given our situation, a fucking time bomb ticking, I didn’t know if it was too early to go to that stage.”

“Time bomb?” you had asked, repeating the syllables slowly. “What’s that?”

Donghyuck sighed on the other line. “The thing that explodes at a predetermined time.”

“Oh, a time bomb,” you asked in English, chuckling. “That, we are.”

“Huh?”

“We’re a fucking time bomb,” you said, again in English, because if Donghyuck could keep talking in his mother tongue without considering if you’d understand a single word, so could you. “We’re ticking and we’re just waiting for this shit to explode. And I can’t wait and watch myself burn, Donghyuck. I can’t.”

“Please speak slowly,” he pleaded in Korean. You don’t.

“This isn’t going to work,” you responded, still in your mother tongue. “Maybe this is a clear sign for us, Donghyuck. Goodbye.”

Mark finds you crying on floor of your living, your back leaning on the feet of the couch, two weeks after Donghyuck’s birthday.

The first week, you had convinced your friends you were fine and that you just needed time. Donghyuck’s been reaching out to everybody, and Mark, being the best friend he is, lies regarding your whereabouts every time Donghyuck visits.

You don’t know how many calls Donghyuck had tried to make and how many text messages he’d left because you had completely abandoned your phone for the last couple of weeks and only relied on your computer to check any e-mails from your professors.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, and you feel a rush of relief when he talks to you in English. You’ve had enough of Korean and Korean men these days. “It sucks, man. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so fucking disappointed with Donghyuck.”

“Shouldn’t you be more disappointed with me?” you sniffle. “I should have listened to you. We were moving too fast.”

Mark shakes his head, pulling you closer so that your head is resting on his shoulder. “I couldn’t blame you. Donghyuck’s charming, and I genuinely thought he was in love with you. I mean, I could say is, because I really think he’s sorry about everything.”

“We didn’t even get to properly break up,” you cry. “Our flight back home is in like, two weeks. I was supposed to talk to him and decide what we’d do with our relationship. For his birthday, I made a stupid mixtape that he could keep in his car and a very expensive and fucking cheesy set of touch lamps I found online for whenever he would miss me. And I keep making stupid letters like a fucking idiot so I could leave him with a bunch of poorly constructed letters just so he knows how much I’ll fucking miss him.”

Mark stays silent as you sob your heart out.

“And can you believe I actually thought it’d work?” you say, exasperated. “I’m so fucking sorry to myself. I’m just glad it’s over before I did shit I’d regret later on.””

“Shit like?” Mark asks.

You sigh, sniffling and screaming internally because the tears would stop. “I was already looking into internships here. For my last semester in college. I had already decided to decline the internship they were offering back home—thank God I haven’t sent that e-mail from my drafts—and I’ve found really good companies here. And if I’m lucky, I was thinking of moving here after college.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “All because of Donghyuck?”

“Because he feels like home, Mark,” you reason out. “He’s warm, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this now, but I love him. I love him so fucking much.”

“Oh, Y/N.”

“And we would have been happy. I would’ve done everything I could,” you confess. “And this fucking language barrier will be the death of me, but I would’ve learned more. I’d be an expert by the end of the year. And now, this whole Karina thing made me realize how much more I need to know about him.”

Mark holds you closer as though holding you would make things better. “When we were kids,” he starts. “Whenever I told you stories about how much I miss all the people I had to leave behind whenever we had to move from one country to another, one state to another, you’d always tell me to never build houses out of people.”

You remember. You always admired how Mark could move from one place to another, his suitcase and the ghost of the friendships he made following his trail, and he’s always told you about the loneliness it comes with.

“You used to tell me shelters aren’t supposed to be made of arms wrapped around you on a cold night, or hands that hold you when you’re feeling lonely,” he continues. “And I can’t blame you, because humans are known not to follow their own advice. But I hope you find home in things you’d never lose.”

You nod. “I’m sorry for breaking rule number three.”

“You’ll get over him,” he assures. “If you decide to really end things here, I mean. I’m sure you can get over him. It’s easier to get over people when you don’t see him.”

You nod, “Let’s go home, Mark.”

“Back home?”

You smile. “Yes. Back home.”

갈망 (galmang) - longing

It’s Giselle who picks you up from the airport.

You reunite like old friends, but Giselle really didn’t change that much. Even the weather didn’t change much. The same old. You wish you could say the same to yourself.

The flight to Vancouver was the most painful ten hours of your life, both literally and figuratively. It was hard watching your friends bid you goodbye, and you could tell they were dreading your departure as much as you and Mark were. Mark assures them you and him would save up to visit them again this year and as much as you’d wanted to stay, your student visa would allow you only six months. Mark promises he’d work on a tourist visa or whatever because despite being 100% ethnically Korean, but legally, he can’t just visit whenever he wants.

The pain from your breakup with Donghyuck is nothing compared to seeing Mark leave his friends again. You know how much they mean to him, and by extension, how much they mean to you regardless of what happened before your departure.

The head of student exchange program sends you warm greetings through text, followed by a series of messages from your friends and family. You’re glad Giselle had decided to pick you up from the airport, because you don’t think you’re in a good state to pretend like you’re okay, and Giselle knows.

Of course, she knows.

Giselle’s been your anchor during your last weeks in Seoul. Mark reckons that if anyone would understand you best during this time, it would be Giselle. After all, she’d gone through the same thing.

Like Mark, Giselle moved to Seoul with her parents for a few years. She had a similar experience with Mark, considering that her parents are constantly moving around—from Japan to South Korea then to Vancouver. Giselle was only in Seoul for two years before her parents moved back to Vancouver again, and in between those years she had met Kevin Moon, the love of her life.

They have been dating for almost four years now, two of those years, they dated long distance.

“How’d you make it work?” you had asked Giselle over Facetime once.

“It wasn’t perfect,” she admitted. “We broke up a couple of time because it was really difficult. And neither of us were willing to move for each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Kevin and I, we love each other. Truly we do. But I wouldn’t want to plant my entire life in Seoul for him. In the same manner, I don’t want him to move from Seoul to Vancouver for me when we both know for a fact that he’d be more successful in Korea than here. I guess, I don’t know, I don’t have an advice I could give you.”

“I’m not asking for advice,” you denied. “I mean. Donghyuck and I have only been dating for like, two weeks. I wouldn’t think that far at this time.”

Giselle had laughed at the other end of the line. “Let me tell you one thing, though.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s all a matter of choice,” she had said slowly, like she wanted to imprint the words to your brain. “Your heart isn’t made of diamonds. Your lungs aren’t made of steel. Somehow, inevitably, you’d grow tired—tired of timezones and how you never get the timing right, tired of not having someone to hug when you need it, tired of having to compromise—and it’s not an easy game.”

Giselle was smiling when she’d said the rest: “But Kevin is so worth it. I’ll grow tired of the baggage long distance comes with, but I don’t think I could live without him, you know? And it’s exaggerated, I know, and neither of us know what the future holds, but we’re choosing us. We chose to stay.”

It would have been beautiful, you think, if things worked out between you and Donghyuck. You would have written poems and prose in places about how you chose to stay. You would have learned about time zones and the best time to call, could have learned how to purchase the cheapest flight tickets to see each other, would have learned love and compromise together.

But you’re here, back in Vancouver, the voices of Mark and Giselle all blurred out from the backseat, and all you could think of is how much you miss Donghyuck.

예기치 않은 (yegichi anh-eun) - unexpected

The head of the student exchange program asks you to write an article about your experience in Seoul and gives you until the fall semester begins, just in time for the university’s own publishing house to produce this year’s school paper. You’re stuck at two hundred words and a stupid title Mark came up with: “Learning Languages”—and you’re thinking about withdrawing from that spot in the newspaper but Mark keeps calling you a heartbroken loser and you’re not about to let Mark Lee get the last word.

You’re eating cereal and watching an episode of Suits to prepare to write again (yes, a 30-minute preparation time is needed for such task) when someone knocks at your door.

You know how, in movies, the main character would see things in slow motion as soon as the love of their life enters the scene? That’s exactly what happens when you open the door and find Lee Donghyuck standing outside your dorm room, a too-large for his body backpack on one shoulder and his heart upon his sleeve.

미안해 (mianhae) – I’m sorry | 사랑해 (saranghae) – I love you

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that Lee Donghyuck comes up with, and truthfully are the words you needed to hear from him. He says it in his mother tongue and you feel his heart in his voice.

“Mark?” you ask, knowing full well it’s Mark who helped him.

“Yes but no,” he answers. “He said he’d only give me your address but he’s not picking me up or helping me. My flight landed literally six hours ago and I’ve been looking for you since.”

Donghyuck sits across you on the small table you own inside your small room. His backpack is sitting on his feet and his shoulders are slumped. Donghyuck allows himself to look small compared to all the times you were with him.

“Y-you look good,” he comments, eyes glued on you. “I’m glad you’re healthy, at least.”

“You, too,” you mumble. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Water would be fine, please and thank you.” You reach over to hand him a bottle. “And who are you kidding? I look awful.”

He does. He looks exactly what he said he had done to get here. Look for you for six hours after a ten-hour flight from Incheon. Donghyuck downs the bottle of water. Poor guy probably hasn’t eaten.

“Why are you here, Donghyuck?” you ask as soon as he’s done drinking.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “I don’t really know what I want out of this trip.”

You keep your arms crossed over your chest.

“And I’m not about to beg you to take me back,” he continues. “I just wanted to explain. I just want you to know what happened. I can live without you, but I can’t live with you thinking I had betrayed you.”

“Donghyuck, there’s really no need to explain. Renjun has told Mark all I needed to know.”

“No, let me say it please. I spent a fortune to come here, and I’m going to make you listen if it’s the last thing I’d do. After this, I’ll leave. I have a ticket back home tomorrow, and I’ll leave.”

Ridiculous. Who would spend a fortune on a set of roundtrip tickets only to leave a day after? Of course, only Lee Donghyuck.

“Karina and I go way back,” he says. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And she’s not someone I could just get rid of just because our relationship didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends, and that’s a fact we had come to learn when we tried dating. And it was painful, but I couldn’t lose her just because we didn’t know how to date, how to play boyfriend and girlfriend to each other. That’s the first thing I need you to understand.”

“Like I don’t know that already?” you remark sarcastically.

“Karina is a part of me.” Shit’s painful.

“But now like how you are a part of me.”

Oh.

“She’s my best friend, almost like a sister now, and my parents care about her,” he continues. “It was a mistake that we even tried to date just so we could relate to everyone dating everybody. It almost ruined us, and Karina and I, we can’t afford to lose each other just because of that. The person who I am now, part of it is because of Karina. But Y/N, the person I’m about to become, I want it to be because of you.”

He clears his throat again. You look at the bottle of water he finished drinking because you really can’t look at Donghyuck now. Not when he’s vulnerable and out in the open. Not when he’s exactly the way he was when you fell in love with him.

“And I had plans. For the long run,” he says like a promise. “I had started looking up how to get a tourist visa to Canada and how to get you a tourist visa to Korea. I’ve been saving all my allowances and the money I’ve been earning from work so I could book a ticket to Vancouver for the summer and spend it with you. And I was supposed to tell Mom, but I haven’t had the chance yet—that one I have no excuse for. But the timing was off and she met you before I could tell her. She had no idea and she’s genuinely sorry she made it seem like she wanted me to end up with Karina. If she had known I was already in love with someone else, she wouldn’t have said that in front of you. She would have loved you.”

Donghyuck pauses. You look up to see him wiping his tears from his cheeks. “And I’m sorry that the timing didn’t go well for us, but I promise you I had plans. I just didn’t want to spend the rest of your weeks in Seoul thinking about you being gone as soon as the semester is over. I wanted to seize the moments with you and make you—I wanted to make you feel that I love you.”

Your breath hitches. Donghyuck locks eyes with you.

“I love you. I love you and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t,” he confesses, bursting into tears and you do, too. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t try hard enough to make you stay. I’m so sorry that I talked to fast that time I finally got you to answer my call; I should’ve explained more calmly. I’m so sorry that we’re here, in Vancouver, hearts broken. But I love you, and I wish I could say all of these in English if that’s what would make you believe it’s real and it’s true.”

But he doesn’t have to.

“I love you,” you say in your mother tongue before switching to Korean. “I love you. And I know you love me. And I’m so sorry for jumping to conclusions and not trying hard enough. Just like you, I had plans to. For the long run. And I can live without you, too, but I can’t live without you knowing how much I love you.”

Donghyuck giggles through his tears and reaches out both hands to wipe off yours. “Let’s not live without each other.”

It’s him to moves, standing a little, so he could kiss you.

The kiss says everything the language barrier can’t. I love you. I missed you. I’m sorry. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You are everything I’ve ever wanted.

Donghyuck spends the night tracing your body with his mouth like he’s writing a love song and he needs to taste you first before he could write the first melody. You spend the night underneath Donghyuck’s love, whispering his name like praise, taking, taking, taking everything he’s giving you.

You wake up to arms around you and the love of your life kissing the back of your neck. You and him spend the entire day (or at least, the seven hours he had until he had to take the flight back home) talking about your plans and making a list of thing you have to talk about over the phone, but today, you’re taking him out on a date under the warm, sunny skies of Vancouver.

And you do. You and Donghyuck have the best day ever together. Donghyuck gives you the other pair of the touch lamp you’d given to him as a birthday present—you’d forgotten you left it when you ran off; you were supposed to watch him open it so you could show him how it works—and makes you promise to touch the lamp whenever you missed him. He thanks you for the mixtape and confesses he cries whenever he plays it inside his car. He also gives you your small notebook of learning languages back (because you had dramatically left it to Renjun before you boarded the plane), saying you’d need it again.

Mark refused to come because he wants you and Donghyuck to talk and spend the day creating a game plan to make your relationship work. At the end of the hours you had with him, you don’t come up with a solid game plan.

Because Giselle was right, after all, it all comes down to the choices you make. There was no formula on how a long-distance relationship would work. Neither you nor Donghyuck had survived one, but you knew one thing:

Today, you and Donghyuck choose each other.

It’s only the beginning, it seems.

The sun is out and bright when Donghyuck boards the plane.

It’s a lot warmer than the rest of the year, but you don’t really mind.

[ms-demeanor]

So Large Bastard went into the hospital for transplant evaluation on February 13th 2021 and that was one of the major peaks of covid and basically we dropped him off at the hospital and that was it; nobody was allowed to visit him or see him and they pretty much immediately implanted a pump in his shoulder that made it painful and difficult for him to use the phone. At that point the message we were getting was "either he'll qualify for a transplant and you'll see him again when he is released after the transplant (and the waitlist, and the surgery, and the recovery) or we'll allow you to visit him when he's dying OR he won't qualify for transplant and we'll provide his end of life care and we'll allow you to visit him when he's dying" and on like February 16th, before we knew if he'd qualify for a transplant, I got a call from the hospital saying they were putting him on a heart/lung bypass machine because the pump they'd implanted in his shoulder and the pump they'd implanted in his heart weren't doing enough (both are designed to pump blood through about six feet of human, not through about seven feet of human, so they needed a much larger external pump). They asked me if I approved this procedure because he was kind of out of it, and held the phone up to him so I could ask him if he wanted this and say goodbye - I didn't know if that was goodbye until he got woken up by the doctors after stabilizing, or goodbye until he got approved for a transplant, or goodbye until he didn't get approved for a transplant and they'd take him off the machine to say goodbye for real if they couldn't keep him alive any longer.

And then they hung up the phone and I sat at my desk and stared at my computer and went back to work because literally what the hell else could I do? I couldn't drive to the hospital, I couldn't anxiously wait to see if the doctor would come out and tell me the machine had stabilized him. They said they'd call me in three hours with an update. So I took some orders and placed some calls and responded very politely to emails until I got off the clock at 5:30.

I had texted one of Large Bastard's friends who I'd been calling a lot and asked if we could meet up so I could explain what was going on so he could pass that info on to their radio nerd club. We were meeting up in the parking lot of an ihop because it was an easy outdoor location to describe to him when I wasn't actually capable of processing things like "addresses" or "street names" and I drove over to the ihop and at the red light for the left turn to go into the parking lot I fucking lost it. Like. I don't do the "hysterical crying" thing often but when I do, boy do I. I was in my truck with the windows rolled up and music on and I was sobbing so hard that it shook the truck and the crying was audible from outside the car.

I know it was audible from outside the car because a homeless man came up to my window and knocked and when I rolled the window down he told me "you're okay girl, you got this, it's gonna be alright" and I kind of nodded at him and sobbed at him and waved at him as he kept crossing the street and my light changed and I turned into the parking lot.

By the time my friend got there I had calmed down and stopped crying and through the entire rest of the process I never lost it in quite the same way; they took Large Bastard off the lung bypass part of the machine a day later and he was awake when they approved him for the transplant list, and a few days after that they started allowing a single, masked, socially distanced family member to start visiting patients in the transplant ICU for two hours a day, so I was able to come see him and he immediately said "look I have abs" and pulled his gown aside to show me that he'd lost so much weight as his body tried to eat itself to stay alive that he did, in fact, have an eight pack. And we laughed about it. It was uphill from there. It was never as hard for me as it was in the few hours after that phone call.

And in those few hours there was one dude who happened to be walking by who was kind enough to try to offer comfort to a complete stranger and I think about him all the time.

[meazalykov]

expect the unexpected

crush!vivianne miedema x reader prologue (lynn wilms x reader series)

this is the prologue to a new series coming february 1st.

the chill of an early spring evening seeps into your jacket as you step into the cozy apartment vivianne shares with beth.

the warm lighting and faint scent of coffee create a comforting contrast to the cold tension that’s been suffocating you at arsenal. 

tonight is supposed to be a break. this is a chance to escape the drama that seems to cling to jonas’s shadow.

you clutch a cup of tea vivianne made for you, settling onto the couch next to gio, who’s scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. 

beth is in the kitchen, joking with vivianne as they finish up the snacks for the night.

“you look dead,” gio remarks, glancing at you with a small smile that doesn’t quite hide the concern in her eyes.

you shrug, sipping the tea and letting its warmth anchor you. 

“long week.”

“jonas again?” she asks knowingly, and you nod, not trusting your voice to not say anything respectful. 

vivianne enters the room, setting a bowl of popcorn on the table. 

“what did he do this time?” she asks, her tone edged with frustration as she sits down across from you. 

you hesitate. it feels like every time you bring it up, you’re just adding to a pile of grievances too heavy to carry anymore. “same thing he always does. benched me for no reason, made some comment to kim about how i ‘don’t fit the system.’” the words come out bitter, and you hate how small they make you feel.

vivianne leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. 

“he’s an idiot.”

you look at her, gratitude mixed with something heavier—a yearning you can’t shake. viv’s expression is kind, steady, and unchanging. she sees you as a friend. a teammate. nothing more.

gio knows your liking for viv, lighting frowning with sympathy as your eyes twinkle at the dutch woman. 

“thanks, viv,” you mumble, looking over to stare at the steam rising from your tea.

“he’s lucky i’m leaving,” gio interjects, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. the statement hangs in the air for a moment before anyone responds.

“wait,” beth says, stepping out of the kitchen with a plate of cookies. 

“what do you mean, leaving? like, leaving on loan again?”

gio shakes her head, her jaw tightening. 

“no. for good this time. i told my agent i’m done with arsenal. atletico madrid’s interested, and honestly? i think i need to go back. jonas is draining the joy out of football for me.”

the room falls silent. beth sets the plate down, her expression softening. 

“gio…”

“i’ve thought about it for a while,” gio continues, her voice firmer now. 

“i can’t stay here and keep pretending like everything’s fine. i want to love the game again, and that’s not going to happen under jonas.”

vivianne nods slowly, her gaze dropping to her hands. 

“i get it. i’ve been feeling the same way.”

you look up sharply. 

“wait, what?”

vivianne sighs, running a hand through her hair. 

“arsenal’s not renewing my contract. i found out last week. honestly, i’m upset about it but my nervous system is relieved. i need a change if he is going to stay there.”

“where are you going?” gio asks, her brows furrowed.

vivianne glances at beth, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“probably manchester city. it’s the most appealing option right now.”

you force yourself to smile, even as something twists painfully in your chest. of course. city. beth. you’ve always known vivianne had something serious with beth—everyone did—but hearing it out loud still stings.

“that’s... that’s great,” you manage, your voice steady enough to hide the ache. 

“you deserve to be somewhere you’re happy.”

“thanks,” vivianne says, her smile widening slightly. 

“and hey, if you end up staying in the wsl, we’ll still see each other plenty.”

you swallow hard and nod, but you don’t respond. 

you’re not staying. not here, not in the wsl, not under jonas.

beth sits down beside vivianne, her arm brushing against hers. “well, i’m not going anywhere,” she says lightly, though there’s a trace of tension in her voice. 

“at least not yet. i figure jonas won’t last forever, and i want to be here when he’s gone.”

gio snorts. 

“good luck with that.”

you take a deep breath, setting your tea on the table. “arsenal’s not renewing my contract either.” the words feel heavy, final, but there’s a strange relief in saying them out loud.

beth’s eyes widen. “what? since when?”

“my agent called me about it last month,” you admit. 

“i haven’t told anyone until now.”

vivianne leans back, studying you carefully. 

“are you staying in the wsl?”

you shake your head.

“no.”

“so, did barcelona finally knocked on your door?” vivianne jokes, a playful smirk on her face. 

“sorry– i mean, you’ve only been obsessed with them since forever.”

you laugh, the sound more bitter than you intended. 

“no, not barcelona. it’s... it might be the bundesliga. wolfsburg, specifically.”

vivianne’s expression softens. 

“that’s a good move. wolfsburg’s a great club, and i know a lot of people there. i can introduce you to some friends to help you settle in.”

“that would mean a lot,” you say, your voice quieter now. the idea of leaving everything you’ve known is daunting, but her support makes it feel a little less terrifying.

“wolfsburg suits you,” gio adds. 

“they’re lucky to have you.”

“thanks,” you reply to your bestfriend, though your mind drifts to what it will mean to leave—leave arsenal, leave the wsl, leave both gio and vivianne.

the four of you sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unspoken settling over the room. it’s beth who breaks it, her voice soft but resolute. 

“we’ve been through so much together here. it’s hard to imagine us all going our separate ways.”

“yeah,” vivianne agrees, her gaze distant. “at least i will still be here with you but its a same difference. a fresh start.”

“it’s just... sad,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“arsenal was supposed to be an amazing team, you know? but now it feels like i have to leave if i ever want to feel happy again.”

vivianne reaches out, squeezing your upper arm. 

“you’ll find that happiness again. i know you will.”

you look at her, and for a moment, you let yourself believe her. maybe wolfsburg will be the fresh start you need. 

maybe leaving vivianne will help you finally let go of feelings that were never meant to be with her.

“to moving on,” gio says, raising her glass of soda in a mock toast.

“to moving on,” the rest of you echo, clinking your glasses together. and in that moment, surrounded by your teammates, you start to believe that leaving isn’t the end.. it’s the beginning of something new.

series coming 2/1

[munsonsmixtapes]

Paint Me

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!inexperienced!American!reader

summary: An unfortunate funeral causes you and Benedict come face to face and he is your surprising shoulder to lean on. And after a secret moment in the garden, you become closer than ever before.

word count: 4k

taglist: @syraxnyra @turtle-cant-communicate @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @intothesoul

part one part two part four part five part six part seven

February 13, 1817

There was a knock on your door after you had gotten home from the gallery. You had embarrassed yourself enough when you had insulted Benedict's painting and weren't in the mood to speak to anyone, especially not who you knew was on the other side of the door.

You had already felt like a disappointment to your father and you didn't need to hear him tell you as such. But he entered the room anyway and sat on the edge of your bed next to you. He went to wrap his arm around you, but you pulled away, moving closer to the other side.

"I am afraid that I have not been there for you when you needed me most," he went to reach for your hand, but you pulled it away, fully turning your back to him.

"I am afraid that is true and I do not wish to speak to you at this moment."

"Bunny," he went to use his beloved nickname for you which caused you to stand from the bed, turning to face with a kind of anger you didn't even know was possible.

"You do not deserve to call me that. I understand that you are my father, but you were also my best friend. So where have you been?" You asked, your voice getting louder. "Where have you been when your wife, my mother betrayed me? If you love me as much as you claim to, then why have you never defended me when you saw the two of them treating me so horribly? I know why. It is because you are nothing but a coward and I do not wish to speak to you any longer."

With that, your father left the room, leaving you alone again. All of your anger was getting the best of you, everything that had happened throughout your whole life, weighing on you. You went under your bed where you hid away your art supplies and began to sketch, the pressure of your hand pressing the charcoal to the page, causing it to break, both it and the tears that were falling from your eyes, ruining the picture completely.

It seemed that not even your form of therapy was working. The one thing that made you feel better in fact did not. As your anger reached its peak, you threw everything across the room in a loud clatter and changed into your nightgown, getting into your bed, pulling the covers over you and crying until sleep claimed you.

But your sleep did not bring you any rest whatsoever, the only thing happening behind your eyes was your father. You saw his carriage crashing into a tree, the ship he was on going down, him falling off his horse, all leading to his demise.

The guilt was eating at you for the way you spoke to him. Even though everyone was asleep, you couldn’t sleep any longer without apologize for the way you spoke to your father. Whether he accepted it or not didn’t matter. You just needed him to know that you didn’t mean a single word.

You snuck out of your room with every intention of heading to your parents’ room at the end of the hall only to your mother sobbing in the foyer. She was on her hands and knees while Lilith held onto her, rubbing her back while he cried tears of her own.

You approached them, looking around for your father only to not see him, and you expected the worst. It seemed that all of your nightmares were in fact not that, but premonitions.

You felt lightheaded, your vision going hazy as your sister told you what had happened. Augustus had gone for a late night horse ride and had experienced a heart attack, causing him to fall off and pass away right there because there had been no one had been around to give him the proper care nor get him to a hospital.

It was all your fault. Or at least, that was what you were telling yourself. He did, however, die in one of the ways you had dreamed about, so you supposed that you had spoken it into existence.

The next few days, the house was quiet, neither you nor your mother or sister uttering a single word, nothing feeling quite right to say as far as the loss was concerned. The funeral was the next week and the three of you stood together, weeping over your father’s grave.

You were approached by Kate and Anthony who pulled you into a group hug as your cried into their shoulders and they held you for as long as you liked. When you pulled away, you saw Benedict standing behind them, his eyes already on you. For once, the flirty look in his eyes was replaced with a look of sorrow. 

For a second, all of your dislike for him dissipated as he pulled you into his arms, his hands rubbing up and down your back as he whispered nothing but nice things into your ear as you cried into his shoulder. 

Kate and Anthony turned away to give you a private moment and whispered to each other about what was possibly going on between the two of you. Kate thought it was sweet, but Anthony was ready to nip it right in the bud. There was no way that he was letting his brother anywhere near you, not even in a friendly way as  Benedict was unable to be friends with women. He only bedded them and there was absolutely no way that could happen. 

You pulled away from Benedict and he was quick to wipe your tears. You hadn’t seen him that soft and gentle since you had moved back to England and you were happy to have your old Benedict back, even if it was just for a moment. 

Benedict didn’t know what had come over him. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing you so heartbroken broke his own heart. When he saw you sobbing when he got to the graveyard, he swore that he could actually hear his heart crack. Usually, he would only comfort a woman going through a loss for the sole reason of getting her into bed, but this time, that wasn’t even a thought. He just wanted to make sure that you were okay. 

He didn’t leave your side the entire day as everyone followed your family to your house to enjoy a meal together in your father’s honor. He kept his distance out of respect, but he wanted nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and let you stay there as long as you wanted. He knew how close you were to your father and just how much it had crushed you to lose him. 

As day turned to night, you could feel your cold shoulder towards Benedict start to thaw. You were beginning to think that maybe you were being too hard on him when he had genuinely been trying to right his wrongs with what he had done to you almost a decade ago. You didn’t think that you should have let it hurt you for so long and that the grudge you were holding against him was really only hurting you in the end.

February 20, 1817

As a way to see your artwork, Lady Danbury had one of her friends host another gallery. You had told her that it wasn’t at all necessary, but of course, she didn’t listen to you. She assured you that everyone would love whatever you decided to submit and that they would all be lining up to purchase commissions from you.

You, however, thought it was a bold claim. Sure, you wanted people to see your work, but now you were nervous that none of them were going to appreciate it the way that you did. It was all very personal and you weren't sure that you wanted it hung for everyone to see.

Despite that, you still submitted your most personal piece. A painting of your father that was your own way of honoring him. A way to forgive him for all he had done to you and to let go of all of the guilt you felt for what had happened to him. It was the best form of therapy you could have ever asked for and easily your best work to date.

Benedict's piece had been coming along great as well. For once, he wasn't thinking about every single brush stroke and just went along with it, letting the brush guide him. He was going off of memory since he didn't have a proper photo of his subject, but he thought it was turning out rather well considering.

Instead of going to the studio, he decided to work in the garden, the sunlight being the best thing to point out all his imperfections if there were any. He was not going to have a repeat of what had happened last time. It was far too embarrassing.

"Ah, there you are, brother," Eloise spoke as she approached him.

"Here I am," he replied and was quick to stand in front of the painting so she couldn't see it, but it was too late. She had already seen it. She pushed him out of the way and let out a gasp as the painting before her.

"It that-"

"No," Benedict cut her off, trying to block her view of it again, a shade of pink apparent on his cheeks. Eloise just laughed and pushed him out of the way again, careful not to knock over the easel.

"It is!" She gasped. "It's the l/n girl that Kate and Anthony have befriended!"

"It is not." He didn't know why he was denying it. All the proof was right there.

"You cannot deny it. It seems that you have befriended her as well." Eloise could see the way that her brother looked at you and it seemed like he was attracted to you. She hadn't had many interactions with you, but according to Kate, you seemed like someone who keep Benedict humble and ground him.

"She doesn't like me, Eloise," he shook his head as dipped his brush into a shade that was the color of your skin tone and did some shading where he thought it would look nice.

"Why not? Did you hurt her, because Anthony will certainly-" Oh, Benedict knew exactly what Anthony would do.

"I did," Benedict nodded. "Eight years ago. When her family lived down the road, we painted a lot together in the study while Francesca played the piano, but one night-"

"What did you do, Benedict?" Eloise wasn't sure he wasn't going to say, but what she did know was that she wasn't going to like it.

"She told me-she told me that she loved." Her eyes widened at that and she wasn't surprised that she didn't know that fact because you would have been too scared to admit it to anyone and Benedict just felt horrible about the whole thing and didn't want to revisit it.

"And what did you say?" Considering the fact that you were ten and Benedict was twenty-one at the time, she could assume what had happened.

"The only thing I could. She was a child and I was certainly not interested in her and so I told her as much. Maybe a little too harshly and she ran."

"Benedict," Eloise gasped. So that was why you always paid almost attention to him. All of the dots were finally connecting. Now she was thinking that she liked you even more. That you were the first woman to not fall for her brother’s charms even though you were the exact one who should have. He definitely had a type.

"I know, and now she's here and beautiful and I'm afraid I've fucked it all up." Eloise was wondering what had gotten into him that he had such a defeatist attitude. He was never that way towards the women he was interested in even if they weren’t interested. In fact, that usually only motivated him even more.

"Maybe this might seem like a foreign concept to you, brother, but have you ever thought about apologizing like a normal person?" Benedict actually had thought about that, but he didn't think that was good enough, so that was why he had done the painting of you. He hoped that would help you see just how much he cared for you.

"I think it might be too late for that." He decided that his work was done and started to clean his brushes.

"It's never too late for an apology," she rested a hand on his shoulder and gave is a squeeze, leaving Benedict with much to think about.

February 21, 1817

You sat in the study with one of your books in your hand, but you couldn't focus on it. Your letter letting you know whether or not your artwork was accepted into the gallery was going to be there any second and you were terrified. There was a lot of riding on it and you were very afraid that they hadn't accepted it.

Kate and Anthony had insisted on being there when you got the good new and Kate clutched your hand as a servant entered the room with the envelopes on a silver platter and you reached for yours, feeling like time had stopped as you ripped into the envelope.

You read the first few words of the letter and let it drop to the floor, feeling your body go cold, collapsing into one of the chairs as you accepted defeat. They didn't want your piece. You should have known since they wouldn't have since you were a woman. They hadn't said as much, but you were able to read the lines.

Despite your sadness, you told the couple that you would join them at the gallery and felt horrible that Lady Danbury went through all that trouble for nothing. You didn't want to have to look her in the eyes, but the only worse thing was not going an accepting defeat. You were going to show everyone just how strong you were.

February 25, 1817

Practically everyone was already at the gallery when you had arrived and you felt dread come over you as you accepted that you were going to have no part in it. You had been rejected from many things like that before, so you weren't sure why it hurt so much.

Lady Danbury had approached immediately when you arrived and you really didn't feel like speaking with her but you plastered on your brightest smile, faking like you had interest in the conversation even though you would have much rather been in the study with your paints.

"Ah, there's the artist," she greeted. "You left last time before we were able to talk about your critique of the Bridgerton boy." Normally you would have felt guilty for something, but this time you couldn't have cared less. Benedict Bridgerton could have stood to be knocked down a few pegs and you were really enjoying being the one to do it.

"And I apologize for that. I was just letting my own issues take over." You were only apologizing because you felt like it, not because you meant it.

"No apologies necessary, dear. I loved it. I wish you would speak your mind more often. More people could benefit from hearing your thoughts. Especially ones like Mr. Bridgerton." Lady Danbury didn't mind Benedict, but often times she felt he had a big head and let his ego get in the way.

"I appreciate that, but unfortunately, I don't think that I'm up for it tonight."

"But what am I to think about the artwork without a lovely artist to give her opinions?" There was something odd about the interaction and you couldn't figure out what.

"You do flatter me, Lady Danbury. I suppose I wouldn't mind joining you."

So, you led her around the gallery and told her what you thought about the pieces, promising her to not hold back this time, suddenly not afraid to speak your mind. And Lady Danbury was loving every second of it, very entertained by the shy wallflower coming out of her shell.

She quite liked your company, amused by your little quips that you had come with on the spot. And she appreciated how you felt like you were able to be your true self around her, not the shy person she had met a few weeks ago. You were growing on her and easily becomg one of her favorite debutants of the season.

"Lady Danbury, who do you think your favorite artist is?" You asked as she got to the second to last piece. All this time you had been talking about the pieces in front of you, but you were curious as to what kind of art she liked since you thought a person's favorite artist said a lot about them.

"You." You were surprised to hear her say that considering that she hadn't even seen any of your work.

"Oh, that's very nice, but-"

"No, dear, it's you!" She cut you off and forced you to turn to the piece on the wall. You let out a gasp as your face stared back at you, feeling something very strange coming over you.

You stepped closer to the painting and turned this way and that, convinced that you were looking into a mirror, but you weren't. You could very clearly see the paint strokes when you got close enough. Who the artist was was a mystery. You had absolutely no idea who could have done it and wanted to know their identity and why you had been their subject.

You couldn't stop staring, wanting to reach out to touch it, but you knew you weren't allowed, even if it was your face on the canvas. It was amazing how well they were able to paint your features and you wondered what they had used for reference.

"I hope this isn't too amateur for you," a voice whispered in your ear and you felt a chill go down your spin as their hot breath hit the back of your neck.

You turned around only to be face to face with the seconds eldest Bridgerton brother. You eyed him, wondering why he would have done something like that and what he would have gotten out of it. That had to be the reason why he would have done it...right?

So many questions were swirling around your mind, your main one being how he was able to make the painting so accurate that it felt like you were looking into a mirror without having you sit for it.

"What is this, Benedict?" You pointed to the painting and he just chuckled. You didn't like how much you enjoyed making hearing the sound and wondering how you would have been able to hear it.

"It's you." He was smiling brightly and you wished he had done it more often. The look was just too pretty on him to hide away all the time. You wondered why he always seemed to always look so serious. In the many times you had seen him, he had only smiled when he was with Eloise.

"I'm aware of that...but why?"

"I think the better question is why not."

"How were you able to do it without me sitting for you to paint me?"

"I will answer all of your questions, but right now, we must see the final painting."

He offered you his arm and you grabbed onto it, letting him lead you through the rest of the gallery.

"But this was the last one." 

"Not quite,” he winked and stopped at the last piece, causing you to let out a loud gasp as your own painting was staring back at you. But it had been rejected. How did he get a hold of it and why was it there? The man was confusing you even more by the second. You were convinced that he had just been trying to get you to forgive him just so he could feel better about himself, but now you weren’t so sure. 

You felt tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him. No one had ever done anything that nice for you before. Something so selfless that they only did because they wanted to and not to make themself look good. Maybe he wasn’t the same Benedict that your remembered. Maybe he was finally turning over a new leaf.

Benedict wiped your tears away and even though it was entirely inappropriate, you threw yourself into his arms and he was quick to catch you, almost falling backwards because of how much force you had used to push yourself in his direction. You squeezed each other tight, avoiding the gasps of the people around you. Lady Danbury shooed them away to give the two of you some privacy as you both pulled away. 

Without a word, you pulled Benedict away from the gallery and you both discreetly made your way through the crowd to get outside for some much needed fresh air. You looked out into the garden and couldn’t help but feel like home there.There was something that was so comforting about it that made it seem like you belonged there. You could see yourself there with Benedict right by your side, the two of you facing each other with your own easels as you painted your own portraits of each other. 

You hadn’t thought about him in that way in a long time and wondered where that had come from. Maybe you were overcome with gratitude to him, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was the fact that you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at his pretty lips, wondering what they felt like between yours. And how you could have taken the chance and it would not have been inappropriate.

Without a word, you grabbed him by his coat and pulled him down so that his face was only inches from yours. You pressed your lips to his with so much force that your teeth clinked together and you both were quick to pull away covering your mouths in pain. You couldn’t believe you had done that. That was exactly why you never acted impulsively. It always just ended in embarrassment. 

You just shook your head as you felt your cheeks heat up and turned back to enter the gallery. Benedict wasn’t going to let you get away this time, though. He lost you once and he wasn’t going to let it happen again. And this time, he was actually attracted to you and he was going to let you know just how beautiful he thought you were. 

He grabbed onto your arm just as you were going to open the door and turned you around to face him. His hazel eyes bored into yours as he grabbed onto your chin, lifting it as he bent down. He slotted his lips between yours and you tried to move along with him, mimicking his actions exactly even though you had absolutely not fucking clue what you were doing. 

Your hands moved to his face and pulled him closer to you so you had more access to his mouth, becoming addicted to the feeling of his lips on yours. You had only gotten a little taste, but already wanted to do that exact thing for the rest of your life. Benedict pulled away to let the both of you breathe, but quickly dove in for more as he grabbed onto your waist and pushed you against the pillar that was behind you. You let him lead, taking exactly what he wanted from you as you were pliant under his touch. 

He pushed your mouth open as he slid his tongue inside, letting it swirl around your own and a sound escaped your mouth that Benedict definitely needed to hear again. And the fact that what you were doing was considered wrong only made him love it more. He continued to kiss you like his life depended on it as his hand moved up to your breast, massaging it the best he could over your dress as you let out another moan, this one louder. You pulled away as you felt a weird sensation between your legs, a lot of wetness collecting there. You began to panic as you pushed Benedict away, embarrassed about what was happening. 

“I had a lovely time tonight, Mr. Bridgerton, but now I must go.” You curtsied and then rushed inside, gathering your dress in your hands as you did so. 

You made a beeline for the restroom and locked yourself inside it before grabbing the nearest towel-like fabric and pulled up your dress before wiping. You pulled the towel away not to find blood like you were expecting but found that whatever was between your legs was almost clear. You were convinced that there was something wrong with you, having never seen anything like that before. 

While you were panicking in the restroom, Benedict was pacing in the garden, debating running after you even though he was sure that you had already left. Had he made you uncomfortable? That must have been it because you looked so scared. He had taken advantage of you and now he was going to beat himself up over it. Not reciprocating your feelings when you were a child was one thing, but taking advantage of you was another and now he had ruined his chances with you because he was selfish. He didn’t think that another painting was going to fix it either. Perhaps it was time to finally let you go for good and let you find a man who was actually worthy enough. A man that was actually able to keep you.

[willowsnook]

can i request a tall glass of vodka with lime? 🥰🥰

lando norris x gymnast!reader

It's always been you

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

Watching out the window as your plane landed, excitement bubbled inside you. You had flown out of Oklahoma City to Austin for the F1 race, all thanks to your friend, Lando.

Last year, when Quadrant was expanding into the US market, they signed you as one of their college athletic partners. As the captain of the University of Oklahoma's gymnastics team, you were already a standout. You met Lando when they launched the new program, and the two of you hit it off right away. With your demanding gymnastics schedule that you'd been used to since childhood, you understood the grind of high-level competition, and as you gained more attention after competing in the world gymnastics championship, you found yourself leaning on Lando to help cope with the pressure.

As you made your way down the escalator, you spotted Lando waiting with a smile at the bottom.

"Lando!" you called, jogging into his arms for a hug. "It's so good to see you!"

He grinned down at you with that boyish grin of his. "You too! Ready to go?"

You nodded, and the two of you headed toward the exit. Lando grabbed your bag off your shoulder and slung it over his, and you filled him in on your offseason workouts and the high expectations for your upcoming season. He listened attentively, amused by how carried away you got.

"I'm sorry," you giggled. "I've been rambling non-stop. Are you ready for the race weekend?"

"Yeah, I think so," he replied. "We've had good momentum lately, so I'm feeling good about it. I’m excited you'll get to see me race."

"Me too," you said, smiling. "And then maybe you can come see me compete in January or February."

"I’d like that," he said, shooting you a charming grin.

After checking into your hotel room, you met Lando back in the lobby. He had some promotional events with UT to attend, and you tagged along, planning to meet up with a few gymnasts you knew from their team.

"I'll meet you by the gym when I’m done, okay?" Lando said. You nodded, and after a quick goodbye, headed to the UT gym.

As soon as you walked in, you were pulled into a tight hug.

"Can’t believe you’re stepping into the gym when it’s not for a meet!" Sarah, one of the gymnasts, teased.

"All this burnt orange makes me want to gag," you joked, making her laugh.

You stripped off your sweatshirt, now in your sports bra and Nike Pros, and joined her on the floor to stretch and catch up.

Lando had finished up with McLaren and was tired of waiting outside for you with Oscar so they decided to just go in. You were showing Sarah something you had been working on for your bar routine and Lando was in awe watching you. The way you twisted your body that high off the ground with ease, eyes never losing focus on the bar.

"She’s incredible," Oscar muttered, starstruck.

"I know," Lando replied dreamily, a soft smile on his face.

Oscar smirked at the lovestruck expression. "Lovesick," he teased, and Lando playfully shoved him.

When you finished your routine, they applauded, causing you to give them a mock bow.

"You are amazing," Lando told you as you slipped your sweatshirt back on.

"Thanks," you said, smiling as you turned to hug Oscar. "Good to see you, Oscar."

"You too, Y/N. I’m glad we get to see you in person now so I don’t have to hear Lando’s daily updates about what you’re doing from your Instagram stories."

Lando’s face turned beet red, and you laughed loudly, your heart skipping a beat.

"My biggest fan," you teased, looking at Lando, who glared at Oscar before grabbing your hand and pulling you outside. "Come on, let’s go."

The next few days passed in a blur, with free practices and the sprint race keeping everyone busy. You spent a lot of time hanging out with Oscar’s girlfriend, Lily, and getting to know the McLaren team better.

Now, as you watched qualifying, your hands twisted together in nervous excitement as Lando sped around the track. When he secured pole position, you jumped up, cheering along with the team. As soon as he finished his interviews and made his way over to you, his eyes lit up, and you ran to him, throwing yourself into his arms.

"Congrats! You did so good!" you exclaimed, hugging him tightly. He said nothing at first, just smiled down at you, his gaze soft.

"What?" you asked, feeling a little self-conscious under his stare.

"Nothing," he murmured, chuckling to himself before wrapping his arms around you again. "I have to go to bed early tonight, but do you want to get dinner and watch a movie or something?"

"Sure," you agreed.

A few hours later, you found yourself sprawled out on Lando’s bed, munching on pizza. You had insisted on watching Cars for "inspiration," much to his amusement. But tonight, Lando was quieter than usual, and it was starting to throw you off.

After finishing your slice, you stood up to move the pizza box and faced him with your hands on your hips.

"What’s going on?" you asked, noticing the tension in his expression. "You’ve been so quiet tonight."

"I don’t know, I’m just... thinking," he replied, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.

"About...?" you prompted, concern creeping into your voice.

He fidgeted for a moment before meeting your eyes. "I don’t want to mess this up," he finally said.

"What do you mean?" you asked softly.

"I like you, Y/N," he confessed. "More than a friend. It’s always been you that's been there for me to lean on. I get so excited every time you call, and I miss you like crazy when we’re apart. I know our lives are insane with our schedules, but seeing you today after qualifying it all just hit me and I really want to try and make something work."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you sat in front of him, taking his hand. "I like you too, Lando. But how would we even do this? We’re rarely in the same country."

"Honestly, I don’t think much would change for now," he said. "We already talk all the time, and I know once your season starts, you won’t be able to travel much. But I can come to see you. I just want to stop torturing myself wondering if you’re seeing other guys."

You laughed softly at his vulnerability, crawling into his lap. His hands circled your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder.

"We can take it slow," you murmured, running your fingers through his curls. "My post-grad plan is to keep training for worlds and the Olympics. There are plenty of international gyms."

"Like in Monaco," he said without hesitation, making you smile.

"Like in Monaco," you agreed. "Can I kiss you now?"

His head shot up, and the eagerness in his eyes made you smirk. You brought your lips to his, savoring the moment as you set a leisurely pace.

"Will you stay here with me tonight?" he whispered against your lips.

"Yeah, I already brought my stuff," you said sheepishly. His grin widened before he pulled you into another kiss.

Even though you wanted to keep things slow and private, all of that flew out the window after Lando crossed the finish line first the next day. Fans watched him after celebrating on the podium as he scanned the crowd, eyes eagerly searching for you.

When he spotted you, everything else seemed to blur away. The cameras followed him as he jumped off the stage, making a beeline for where you stood with the McLaren team. He pulled you into his arms, and before you could say a word, he kissed you.

It was supposed to be a private moment, one shared just between the two of you, but the world was watching. The roar of the crowd faded as your lips met his. The electricity of that moment, the heat from the race, the adrenaline—it all melted away as Lando’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. You smiled into the kiss, your heart pounding with exhilaration.

As you pulled away, slightly breathless, you noticed the sea of camera flashes. Fans in the grandstands were screaming, and the McLaren team was beaming behind you.

Lando’s face was flushed with joy, eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. "I couldn’t wait," he whispered with a sheepish grin.

You laughed softly, touching his cheek. "So much for keeping it private," you teased.

He shrugged, not caring in the slightest. "I don’t care who knows. I’m just happy you’re here with me."

The next few hours were a whirlwind. Pictures of the two of you kissing were plastered all over social media, fans gushing about the newest F1 couple. The headlines read, “Lando Norris Celebrates Victory with a Kiss from Gymnast Y/N Y/L/N!”

[muddyorbsblr]

gestures & rain checks

See my full list of works here!

pre-story author's note: Yes I am very aware that it's been a solid month since Valentine's Day. Yes I am still posting this 🫡

Summary: It feels like your friends are getting plucked away from you one by one as their respective (or in Nat's case prospective) partners make grand gestures to ask them to be their Valentine.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning/s: language (nope still not sorry, Rogers); mentions of alcohol; tooth-rotting fluff; gun use [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Morgan being a precious beb; himbo!Thor hours; lowkey sad Reader hours; chaotic group chat vibes in the end

You always had a distaste for this day. Valentine's Day. To you, it was the one day a year that you would do everything in your power not to step outside because it reeked of flowers and chocolate marked up to the heavens for merchants to take advantage of last minute gift shoppers hoping to make a gesture big enough that their crush would let them score at the end of the night. Or guys buying extravagant and ridiculously large arrangements to make amends for wronging their partner as if a 10-foot tall teddy bear was gonna magically press some Undo button of him going on Hinge or Tinder and talking up a dozen other girls on the side.

There was one year that you let slip around Nat and Wanda that this day "smelled like a cemetery" with all the bouquets that bombarded you the second you exited the perimeter of the Compound. Hell, the second you left the main section that housed you and the rest of the Avengers. And you stood by that opinion stubbornly, mostly because you'd only ever witnessed flowers being given when someone was desperately trying to glue back together the pieces of a severely damaged relationship.

And also because no one had ever given you flowers in your entire life. Or chocolates. Or a teddy bear. All your past relationships were with men who were still mentally and emotionally boys that believed emojis and gifs sufficed and were as good as the real thing. Nary a single soul had ever actually spent a lick of time or effort to give you something that told you they deserved your time and effort in turn.

And after so many years of being barely an afterthought, the day just felt like this entity that you resented to an irrational degree, where all you wanted was to lay in bed and wait it out until the clock struck 12 and it was February 15th. Then you could go on a hunt for all the overpriced chocolate that suddenly got their prices slashed by 50% or more.

That was the plan again for this year, had it not been for both Nat and Wanda barging in to your apartment and practically dressing you up like you were their own life-sized definitely seen some better days Barbie doll. "Come on, we can go and have a Galentine's Day 2. Maybe hit up a club and get some free drinks…" the assassin trailed off, zipping up your dress and playfully swatting your ass to nudge you forward. "March on, soldier."

The common area was nearly bare and eerily quiet when you all got there, which made perfect sense considering that most of your teammates who were happily committed to someone were off spending their day together, probably executing their own personal twists on those cliched gestures of adoration. Knowing Tony, that would probably consist of a two-storey tall stuffed bunny or a lavish new vacation house as a nice private little getaway spot for him and Pepper when they wanted to have a date night.

Only Morgan and Shaun were at the big dining table by the kitchen, the little girl working on bracelets with the martial artist nursing a cup of coffee while he handed her beads to add to her work. "Whaddup, Ten Rings…Baby Stark," you greeted them, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of your goddaughter's head. "What're you two up to this fine completely ordinary day?"

"Oof, I take it you're gonna be spending the day watching a bunch of couples be all extra lovey dovey just like me?" You threw him a look, squinting your eyes at him that had him throwing his hands in the air in surrender. "No need to mentally squish my head, Y/N, we're on the same side, I swear," he chuckled, scooting over to the other seat so you could sit next to Morgan. "How about this, karaoke later tonight? Just us and anyone else that doesn't have a date with dinner and co--" You swatted his arm to get him to stop talking, not so subtly signaling in the little girl's direction. "I mean…adult balloons?"

"Wait how come you have special balloons?" Morgan asked, looking up from her activity book and earning barely stifled chortles from both Nat and Wanda. "Why can't I play with them? I like balloons."

You leaned back in your seat, making a motion with your hands as if you were wiping them clean of the whole conversation. "I'm not helping you out of this one, buddy."

He scratched the back of his head, obviously backed into the corner with his own words. "Eeeeeh…put a pin in that and ask me again when you can order a beer, Baby Stark."

The child pouted at both of you, slumping down in her place at the table and slipping back on her princess pink headphones before focusing all her attention on her activity book again, grumbling something about how grownups shouldn't have conversations around her if they didn't want her to ask questions. Valid enough point, but you still weren't going to be the one to give her her first lesson in Sex Ed class a good decade ahead of time.

"Anyways…" Shaun poked at your side, calling your attention back to him. "Karaoke, ladies? We can pick up Katy and Wong before we head over and sing some Disney duets and gorging ourselves on shots and nachos--"

"Hold up, Wong?" You all turned your attention to Stephen, who'd just walked in to the common area. "This I gotta see. You guys have room for one more?"

"Sure thing, as long as you use your sling ring to help us get into Tony's private stash," you quipped, taking a sip of your coffee. "There's no way I'm getting through this day stone-cold sober."

"Or we could go for the really hard stuff and break into Thor's stash of mead from Asgard before he depletes his supply." He showcased the ring in question with a wiggle of his fingers. "Just a portal away."

"I like the way you think, Strange."

"You can all cease your scheming to pilfer my liquor, my friends," Thor's voice boomed into the area, a bounce in his step as he made his way to the coffee pot. "I would happily supply you all with two barrels if that would be enough for your gathering?"

"That's perfect, Thunder. Thanks." You started to tuck into the breakfast plate served by the Compound kitchen staff, mumbling your next question to the blond god. "What've you got planned with Jane for today?"

"Ah." A wide grin stretched across his face at the mention of his girlfriend, the sight both warming your heart and pinching it at the same time. A bittersweet reminder that in the midst of romantic plans with sentimental or grand gestures, your plans involved getting shit-faced with your fellow single friends. Plus Wanda and probably Vision. "Well, I have employed the aid of Wilson to order an ornate bouquet of Jane's favorite flowers which should arrive this morning. Then for lunch I shall prepare her a meal."

"Lunch?" Wanda questioned, tilting her head to the side. "Forgive me if I overstep, my friend, but aren't the romantic plans usually made for dinner?"

"Well, yes…but Jane has graciously agreed to adjusting our schedule for this day so that I may spend the time after lunch aiding my brother in a gesture of his own." A lump formed in your throat at the words. "It seems he wishes to get into the spirit of the holiday, and I am simply ecstatic that he came to me asking for a helping hand."

"I asked nothing of you, you over-muscled oaf," you heard the raven-haired god call out from the main entrance, two large packages hovering a few inches above the ground blanketed with a glow of green from his magic. "You volunteered when you imposed yourself in my space and hovered over my phone."

"Pfft, semantics," Thor waved off, already making his way over to Loki so that he could do some more apparently unnecessary volunteer work. "Are the flowers in one of your parcels?"

"I like flowers!" Morgan chirped from her seat, bouncing in place with bright excited eyes. "Prince Loki, can I help? Please?"

He let out an exaggerated sigh, a trace of a fond, amused smile betraying his facade. "Very well, little Stark. Come along."

Your goddaughter squealed, skipping over to Thor and placing her tiny hand in his. "Uncle Barbie, tell me who his princess is?" He leaned down to whisper the answer in her ear, making her sprint in place with even more excitement. "I promise I won't say a word."

"Barbie? Like your doll, little Lady Stark?" You could practically see the wheels turning in Loki's head from learning about the nickname.

Morgan nodded her head vigorously. "Auntie Y/N came up with it. She calls him Macho Barbie." She proceeded to talk about how you came to give the blond Asgardian the nickname that bizarrely stuck to him more than "Point Break" ever did, said god looking like he already dreaded the coming days -- maybe even years -- now that his brother knew that little tidbit of information.

Once they'd all made their way up the stairs and you could no longer hear the little girl's chipper tone, realization sat heavy in your heart from her reaction to whatever Thor whispered to her just a few seconds ago. Whoever it was that Loki was going to make this grand gesture for, it was someone that Morgan knew enough to the point that she couldn't contain her excitement finding out who the woman was.

It was someone in SHIELD. Maybe even someone in the Compound.

"You good, Babes?" Nat's tone was cautious, approaching you like you were a wounded animal, teeth bared and ready to pounce if she so much as breathed wrong.

You answered with a terse nod of your head. "There is absolutely no fucking way I'm getting through today sober."

"Y/N, dude, I'm sor--"

Bang

"What the fuck?" All eyes grew wide at the sound, your body stiffening as another shot rang out, reverberating throughout the common area. "FRIDAY? Threat assessment," you called out, already readying yourself for combat once whoever was outside made their way to you in the compound.

"No threats have been detected," the AI answered simply. "There seems to be no living target for the gunman."

You could only manage to repeat your words. "What the fuck?" Shot after shot rang out, an interval of three to five seconds between them. Each deafening bang making you flinch, your head spinning with possible explanations on why FRIDAY didn't deem the supposed attacker as a threat. "Where's the target then?"

"Shots are being fired at the training area, by the track field, Agent Y/L/N." You all started to make your way to the area, everyone still on high alert despite FRIDAY's findings.

"Y/N?!" You shared a look with everyone else in the room at the sound of Loki's voice calling out for you, the god looking frantic as he appeared at the top of the main staircase, a sigh of relief escaping him once he saw you standing at the bottom. "You're alright," he exhaled, hurriedly making his way down. The quickening pace of the gunshots had him squaring his shoulders, stepping in front of you and marching toward the sound.

"We've handled way worse than gunfire, Laufeyson, you don't have to lead the defense," you told him with a touch more bite to your tone than you intended, irrational jealousy coursing through you knowing what he was preparing for before he started charging down the stairs. You sidestepped him and started walking toward the training area, brows furrowing together when you saw that from where you stood, the marks from the bullets digging into the ground where forming some sort of shape.

"It's a message…" Wanda mused, angling her head to and fro to see if she could get the whole picture from the ground. "I'm going up, I wanna see what's worth risking Pepper's wrath with all the lawn work she has to commission now." She held her hand out to you, wordlessly offering to take you up with her, an offer that you gladly took, clapping your hand over hers, both of you giggling as your feet lifted off the ground.

Once you two had risen high enough, it was clear what the message was. The shots had been positioned so that the markings would take on the shape of a heart, and the ongoing shots were creating initials. "N…" you read along, barely able to contain your excitement when you saw that the next letter was an R. "Natasha Romanoff!" you yelled out, the assassin's eyes lighting up with a mix of giddiness and curiosity as she tried to look at where the gunshots could've been coming from.

You did your best to turn your head, trying to see who was behind the gesture, kicking your feet in the air once you saw the gunman. "What? Who is it, Y/N?"

"It's Barnes," you squeaked, giving Rogers a reckless wave when you caught sight of him jogging toward all of you with a megaphone in hand.

"Natasha Romanoff," Bucky's voice boomed through the speaker system, making the usually cool and collected former Russian spy put a hand over her mouth to hide the way she was steadily turning pink from how flustered she was. "I know I have a long way to go to make up for how we first met, but I think you're swell and I'd like to try starting it off with maybe dinner tonight?" Both you and Wanda squealed and held each other tight mid-air watching her nod her answer, running over to her once your feet touched the ground again.

"You two won't be pissed if I take a rain check for tonight, will you?" she cautioned, still a wistful tone in her voice from processing what was happening.

"Absolutely not, you go enjoy your date. More drinks to go around and all that," you told her with the biggest smile. "But tomorrow night we're all staying at my place and you're giving us a full report."

"And remember to wear the red lacy underwear," Wanda teased with a comical wiggle of her eyebrows, earning her a poke to the ribs from both of you.

Nat pulled away from the two of you, walking back toward the indoor gym with Steve walking alongside her, starting to talk about how his best friend had been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out since he got sworn in to the team nearly a year ago. From the sound of the conversation, it seemed that Rogers was divulging some information that Barnes probably swore him to secrecy not so long ago.

"And then there were seven," Shaun spoke up, walking toward  you and the sorceress and clapping a hand on each of your shoulders. "Thor came through and left the barrels in the kitchen for us."

You were about to start talking about the food arrangements when the sight of Wanda's husband flying toward you all with a bouquet of camellias and hydrangeas in his hand. "Wanda, my love, I owe you my deepest apologies."

"Whatever for, Vis?" She broke away from you and Shaun to greet the synthezoid, placing her hands on his upper arms as he pulled her in for a chaste kiss.

"It did not occur to me that you might have wanted to make plans for today until Mr Stark had gone into detail of his own itinerary today for his wife," he explained, handing her the bouquet. "Unfortunately I cannot procure a reservation for us tonight, but I still wish to do something for you. Would you allow me the honor of making you a meal and perhaps watching a movie in the private theater?"

You and Shaun gripped each other's hands like you were high schoolers watching their best friend get asked out on their first big date, shaking and pushing each other over the sweetness of the gesture. "I don't need fancy restaurants or pretty flowers, Vis. Getting to spend time with you, especially after everything that's happened to us, is more than enough. I just need you."

The Sokovian turned back to face you and Shaun, a touch of guilt in her expression. "Rain check? I'll bring extra snacks tomorrow night to make up for it?"

"Don't worry about it, Babes," you reassured her, both you and the martial artist waving off her worries. "Enjoy your evening."

The couple have you a curt nod and a smile before happily flying away hand in hand back to their apartment.

"And then there were five," you and Shaun said in unison, walking back to the common area to load up those barrels that Thor left for tonight's 'festivities'. When you got to the kitchen area, Morgan was adorably sitting atop one of the barrels in question, feet happily swinging in the air with a big smile on her face.

"Off the goods, little Stark, we're not risking you getting drunk your dad's gonna kill us," Shaun said in a panic, already lifting the little girl up and off the barrel and making her squeal and giggle as she giddily exclaimed "I'm flying!".

"If you really think that she can get drunk from osmosis, we have a lot to talk about, sweet little summer child," you joked, walking up to one barrel and starting to push it toward the garage. "Think you can use that ancient mystical ring magic for makeshift wheels so we don't bust out our lungs lugging this all the way to your truck?"

"I can assist you, darling." Your skin bristled at the sound of Loki's voice, taking every ounce of strength you had to not stiffen or recoil at his use of the word. He was only saying it out of habit. Probably a remnant of his upbringing as a prince on Asgard.

He didn't mean it the way you wanted -- more than anything -- for him to mean it.

"No need, Laufeyson, I've got it from here," Strange butted in, conjuring an energy shield with his magic that he slid under the barrels, starting to wheel them toward the garage. "Carry on. Oh and friendly advice, man to god? Your future girlfriend, you know, the one you're making this big gesture for? She might not appreciate you calling other women 'darling', so I highly recommend kicking the habit while it's still early. Avoiding future battles and all."

The god sucked his teeth, the action causing his jaw to clench and sending your thoughts someplace they had no business being. You had no business thinking about another woman's man that way, no matter how hot he was.

"I will remember that. Thank you, Strange," he said softly, making his way back up the stairs.

"Thanks for the save," you muttered, opening the door to the garage for the sorcerer to guide the barrels through. "Don't think I could've gotten away with being on Bitch Mode with him a second time today. Not like I can help it, though. Some lucky Midgardian bitch is gonna be his by the end of the night."

"Pretty sure you're the only woman I know that considers being Laufeyson's girlfriend a good thing."

"Yeah, Y/N, like I know he's on our side and everything but most days he still has me on edge. Like passing him on a bad day's gonna get me a stab in the ribs, not a death glare like normal people," Shaun concurred, nudging your shoulder to hopefully stop your lamenting before you got in too deep. Again.

"I'm really down bad, huh," you sighed, letting out a little yip when a portal to the dark dimension appeared just a few feet in front of you. "The fuck--"

"Hey Strange," a reverberating ethereal voice called out from the portal, and then a tall woman with platinum hair with beauty that you could only describe as 'dark celestial' stepped out. Her eyes trained on the sorcerer next to you. "Heard that today's something of a holiday in this dimension. Figured it might be a good idea to stop by and maybe you could show me around your uh…" She turned to you and Shaun, both your jaws slack on the ground. "What's this place called again?"

"Avengers Compound?" Shaun said at the same time that you blurted out, "New York?"

"Compound York?" She raised an eyebrow at the two of you, amusement coloring her face as she gave you both a once over.

"Eherm…no," you answered her, chuckling nervously and shifting your weight between your feet. "This structure here is Avengers Compound, which is in Upstate New York. New York is a city, but also a region…and a state…?" you drifted off, already feeling a pinch in your head from trying to explain the best you could. You looked over to Shaun. "The more I try finding the words to explain, the more I realize how complicated it actually is. Save me."

Stephen stepped forward. "How about I just take you on a tour around New York, then?" His face stretched out into a wide grin, clearly unable to hide his giddiness over the knowledge that she crossed dimensions to be with him today.

"Is that…New York the city, the region, or the state?"

"The city. New York, New York. There's a whole song about it and everything I can play it for you in the car." He proceeded to drape his arm around the dark sorceress, leading her to his car further down the expansive garage.

"Your little human friend is right, things here are complicated. Downright confusing." She looked back at you and Shaun again as they walked away, hand in hand. "It was nice meeting you both! Stephen speaks highly of you all," she called out, her majestic voice echoing throughout the area.

"You're really pretty!" you blurted out in response, causing her voice to melt into a chuckle, telling her partner how she found you 'adorable'. You threw your head back and groaned toward the ceiling. "I'm a fucking dork."

"At least you're an adorable dork," Shaun shot back, nudging your shoulder and lightly touching the back of your head to get you facing forward again. His phone chimed with a text notification. "Katy. Her shift's over, she said she'll get us a room for eight. I'm texting her now to get a smaller one." He held up his hand, palm facing you. "And then there were four?"

You sighed, clapping your hand against his, your friend giving you a reassuring squeeze once you did. "And then there were four." You jerked your head toward the apartments. "I'll just go change into something that involves 'eating pants' and I'll meet you down here in ten."

The walk back up to your apartment wasn't that long, but it still felt like it with how quickly you slipped back into your lamenting over how your friends had such an eventful day today. Nat had her very public grand gesture. Wanda had her husband trying to cook human food in the name of spending time with her. Strange had his girlfriend literally rip a hole between dimensions to get here.

"And all I have waiting for me are two barrels of mead and karaoke microphones," you muttered, walking through your front door and begrudgingly unzipping your dress from the back. You were just about to half-stomp your way to your closet when something on your bed caught your eye.

Three shiny roses lined with gold, tied together with a gold ribbon at the foot of the bed. A large heart-shaped box of chocolates at the center. And a little teddy bear dressed as a bee with red antennas that had hearts at the end, at its fluffy little feet was an embroidered message. "Bee mine".

"What theeeee fu--"

"Y/N," an all too familiar voice called out from behind you. The air left your lungs at the sight of Loki in a form-fitting forest green button-down tucked into onyx black slacks, tucking his hair behind his ears before smoothing his hands over his shirt. "You're early--"

"What're you doing--Was this you?" you babbled, gesturing at the gifts on your bed. For a second, your heart beat erratically, the thought that maybe this was for you, before reality and logic sunk in. "Okay I think I know what's happening…"

"You do?"

"Yeah, you got the wrong apartment. Gimme a minute to change and I can help you move all this over to--"

The rest of your words died in a little squeak at the back of your throat, the god closing the distance between you two with a few long strides, framing your face in his hands and placing a tender fleeting kiss to your lips.

"Those tokens of my affection are exactly where they belong, little mortal," he murmured against you, tracing up the bridge of your nose with his lips until he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "As am I."

You let out a shaky breath, fighting against the urge to melt in the god's embrace as he snaked his hands around your waist. "The gesture your brother mentioned this morning…this?" He proceeded to press kisses down the side of your face, his warm exhale as he whispered 'yes' into your skin making you light-headed. "This is for me?" you gasped out, whatever was remaining of your logical brain smacking the rest of you with how stupid a question that was.

"Who else would it be for, darling?" He pressed a kiss to your jaw, tightening his arms around you and pressing your body against his. "There is no other in this or any other Realm that could have captured my heart so completely." He kissed the corner of your jaw, making his way down the side of your neck, holding you tighter to keep you up when your knees finally buckled from the sensation. "I did this for you, because I wish to ask something of you. That you become mine as much as I am yours."

"M-Mine?" you stammered. "Y-You're mine?" Since when? How come you didn't get this particular memo? Could've saved you a lot of turmoil and nights spent alone staring up at the ceiling trying and failing to hypnotize yourself out of being into him.

He kissed the tip of your nose, resting his forehead against yours. "I have always been yours, darling."

Your hands traveled up the length of his arms, like you were grounding yourself and trying to tell yourself that this was real. He was really here and he was telling you the words you wanted more than anything to hear for who even knew how long at this point.

He's here, you thought to yourself. And he's mine.

There was only one word that you could muster up in that moment. "Yes." I've always been yours, too.

Karaoke Dreamin' on Such a Winter's Day group chat

myfirstnameisagent: Don't kill me but…rain check?

busboy10: Are you kidding me, Y/N?? You said you'd be down in 5 minutes tops and we're gonna meet up with Katy.

nromanoff: Sweet, now you're gonna have a story to tell tomorrow night, too.

myfirstnameisagent: Actually about that…rain check on tomorrow night, too? I'm kinda not there right now…

busboy10: There?? What do you mean "There"?? How'd you get out the Compound without me seeing you? Or whoever the hot date you're ditching me for is?

imjustwong: Where is everybody? We ordered nachos.

myfirstnameisagent: Yeah…I'm not in the Compound…or in New York…any of the "New York"s. Might not be for the next week. Maybe more. The three of you better not drink all the mead in one go.

busboy10: ??????

thevision: Agent Y/L/N, my wife is showing many signs of distress over her inability to contact you. Your phone seems to be going straight to voicemail.

thewanda: Y/N WHERE ARE YOU I HEARD A BANG FROM YOUR APARTMENT ARE YOU OKAY??

myfirstnameisagent: Babes, I'm fine. That was just the Bifrost.

thewanda: EXCUSE ME??

nromanoff: BABES WHAT--

pointbreakbarbie: My friends, I heard the Bifrost be summoned near Lady Y/N's abode. Is there an emergency? Must I make my way to Asgard to assist?

myfirstnameisagent: Thor your brother said if he finds you here I have permission to stab you, don't even fucking think about it.

thewanda: I REPEAT. EXCUSE ME???

busboy10: Y/N are you in Asgard?? With Loki??

myfirstnameisagent: Yes. And yes. See you in two weeks.

thewanda: He better use that healing magic on your legs so you don't walk funny.

A/N: It took me a whole month to write this because real life was trying TKO me in the work department and also I got sucked in to the worlds of Hello Kitty Island Adventure, Disney Dreamlight Valley, and Delicious World and I've been too weak to even attempt time management 🤣

I'm working on stuff tho I swear it 🫡 Horny bitches cuts are in progress, stories are in progress…lots of progress 😅😅

Also for reference, this was the lil stuffed bear that Loki gave Reader:

and the roses looked like this:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears

[bellawoso]

You Belong With Me

Aitana Bonmati x fem!reader

(Sorry to my non-male attracted viewers, there’s only a tiny bit of straightness at the start!)

You and Aitana had met and instantly clicked as soon as you made the move to Barcelona, even though when you moved you had no experience speaking the Spanish language at all, Aitana used her broken English which never failed at making you laugh to teach you the basics of her first language.

When you were at Arsenal, you met a man at the bar when the team was celebrating a successful victory against Chelsea which ensured that North London stayed red. After engaging in a conversation with him, you learnt that the two of you shared similar interests including football, and he later asked you out on a date which you immediately accepted.

After a few more dates, texting back and forth, and the short but sweet kisses you two shared, he soon asked if you would be his girlfriend, which you accepted happily.

In all honesty, you hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and so when you met him, you completely misunderstood your platonic connection with him as a romantic connection between you two.

When your contract ended with Arsenal, Barcelona almost instantly reached out offering you a new contract, one that you couldn’t turn away.

At the time, you and your boyfriend were hitting the 8 month mark, you had moved in together and broke the news to him over dinner. He agreed to long distance, and when he mentioned how proud he was of you at the time, you really thought he was the one.

You two did long distance for around 3 months, almost hitting your 1 year anniversary, your boyfriend had previously explained his plans to come over on the 12th, 2 days before Valentines Day. But on February 8th, you received a phone call from him, explaining he couldn’t come as he had thought over your relationship and didn’t think it was worth it to continue long distance for over a year.

You weren’t heartbroken, but you more just felt numb, you told Aitana about what happened but failed to notice the look of relief masked by her predominantly angered state at your boyfriend for hurting you only a few days before Valentines.

The night before Valentines, Aitana had come round one again to comfort you as your head rested in her lap, and once again you missed the red tint to her cheeks as she ran her fingers through your hair. As you looked up at the brunette midfielder, you saw a look of hesitation in her eyes.

“What’s wrong tana?”

“I- I was just wondering if you would like to spend Valentines with me tomorrow? To take your mind off him.”

“As friends?” You asked, but for once the idea of you spending the day as ‘friends’ with Aitana made your heart ache.

A flash of hurt appeared in Aitana’s eyes as she answered you softly, “Yes, as friends.”

You only hummed in response and buried your head into her lap, hoping to hide the disappointment on your face.

———————————————————————

When you awoke the next morning, you were hurt to see that Aitana had left, only leaving you a short message.

From: Aitana

- I pick you at 7, formal wear.

For once, Aitana’s bad English didn’t make you laugh. Instead it reminded you of the uneasy feeling in your chest about your newfound feelings towards your best friend.

You spent most of the day moping around, trying to cure your confused mind about Aitana. You had only ever been with boys in your life, why were you beginning to feel like this now, at 24?

You knew that there was nothing wrong with figuring out your sexuality later than others, but you had listened to most of your teammates’ stories about how they figured they were into girls at 12. You are now double the age they found out about themselves, and a sense of fear settled in your chest at the thought of coming out to everyone, your friends, your family, the public.

So you called one of your closest friends, Keira.

You already knew Keira from the Lionesses team, and when you moved to Barcelona, she was quick to take you under her wing with her and Lucy being the only fluent English speakers in the team.

After a few tries of ringing Keira, the English midfielder finally picked up.

“How did you know you were into girls?”

A chuckle could be heard from Keira’s end of the call, which you made out to be Lucy sat near her.

“I just realised that what I felt for them wasn’t platonic, and was romantic feelings instead, why do you ask?”

“Aitana asked me to spend Valentine’s Day with her as friends, but I’m not sure if I want it to be more than that Kei.”

For a moment, Keira’s end of the line went quiet, which you guessed was the older girl being in thought, until you heard some rustling and then Lucy’s voice through your phone.

“Hello kid, I have news for you.”

“Lucy I swear to god if your going to make fun of me then save it, I have a real problem here.”

“Calm down kid, what I was trying to say that due to me being amazing friends with Mapi, she often talks about how when Aitana third-wheels her and Ingrid, Aitana often spends the entire time gushing about you, does that sound platonic to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“God y/n! Your useless, no wonder Aitana hasn’t asked you out yet, if your this oblivious to all her flirting!”

“She does not flirt with me!” You retorted.

“She calls you amor, lets you sit on her lap, and always blushes when you kiss her cheek, the poor girl probably thinks your 100% straight and leading her on!”

“Well actually Lucy, less than a week ago I thought I was a 100% straight, so..”

“Shut up, just treat it as a date, and kiss her at the end to get your point across and you will be fine”

“Your no help Lucy, goodbye”

And with that, you hang up still trying to process Lucy’s earlier words, Aitana talks about you to others, and now you think about it, is Aitana really flirting with you, have you mistook it as general Spanish affection?

Aitana has never been one to shy away from her sexuality, always making her disgust for romantic activities with men known. You on the other hand, had never confirmed your sexuality as straight, but equally you had only ever dated men, which left people to assume. Did Aitana share your feelings, or had you and Lucy misread the situation?

What you were unaware of though, was Lucy and Keira’s shock which they masked well on the call, and Lucy’s first words when the call ended being: ‘What the actual fuck.’

The whole team knew about Aitana’s tragically unrequited love for you, they saw each time Aitana made a hint of you to reveal your sexuality by making a comment of:

“I just don’t know how you put up with men!”

And each time, they saw how the small glimmer of hope that you would agree with her shatter as instead you laughed it off, replying with “I don’t know I just do!”

———————————————————————

As promised, Aitana’s car pulls up outside your house at 7, to which you rush out of your house ready to meet the beautiful brunette, who was clad in the most gorgeous suit you had ever seen in your entire life.

You didn’t miss how her eyes raked over your figure which was hugged by a strapless back dress which accentuated all of your curves.

She opened the passenger door for you and then walked round to the drivers side, the drive there was filled with silence, little did the both of you know, you both shared the same thoughts of what exactly the other wanted this ‘friend’ date to be.

When you got to the restaurant, you were unsurprised to see that it was some fancy 5-star restaurant that Aitana had picked out.

You had both ordered starters, mains and deserts and had chatted just as you normally would over a bottle of red wine.

Aitana couldn’t help but notice the way the red wine had slightly tinted your lips, and she wished nothing more than to have a chance to taste them some day.

Of course you noticed Aitana staring at your lips, but Aitana didn’t know that at that moment, you had realised that there was no one else you would rather be with right now. That you would trade the past year of good memories spent with your boyfriend, just to remember this one perfect night with Aitana.

“I don’t want to be here as friends.” You said nervously.

A look of shock was evident in Aitana’s eyes, “What do you mean? Have I upset you?”

“No, no! Of course not tana. I meant that I- ”

You paused for a second and made the haste decision to be completely honest with Aitana.

“God, I don’t know how to say this, I’ve never actually asked anyone out before!”

There it was, the look in her eyes that you wanted to see for the rest of your life time, the glimmer of hope that even Aitana herself thought you had fully extinguished long ago.

Aitana could not help her smile which stretched ear to ear, as she helped you out.

“Could this be a date then if you are okay with that?” Aitana asked softly.

“I would love that.”

With that you and Aitana got up and walked out of the restaurant, the previous adrenaline rush Aitana was still on from coming clean about her feelings with you, urged the brunette to lace her fingers with yours as she led you back to her car.

On the drive back, you noticed how tense Aitana looked, so with a similar sense of confidence to Aitana earlier, you grabbed her hand, which rested awkwardly on her lap and moved it to your thigh. Upon doing this Aitana’s stance relaxed visibly, and she looked over at you with a dopey smile, one which you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips.

When it was time to get out of the car when it pulled up outside your house, Aitana quickly scrambled up and walked you over to your door.

“I would invite you in.” You said with a smile, “But I need some time to think, okay?”

“That’s fine, I understand, I will pick you up for training tomorow?”

“I look forward to it.”

But as Aitana turned to leave, you grabbed her bicep pulling her back to you where your lips met hers in a soft, sensual kiss.

You were the first to pull back, offering her a smile, “Night tana.”

“Goodnight y/n.”

———————————————————————

The next morning, Aitana pulled outside of your house at 7:45, ready for the 8am training session, when you both arrived and got out of the car, you made the decision to hold the brunette’s hand as you walked to the locker room.

“Ready?” Aitana asked.

“Always.” You responded.

With her free hand, Aitana pushed open the door, only to hear the familiar chatter and laughter stop.

As you and Aitana came into the view of the other players, you two were met with a few wolf whistles, and many of your teammates muttering:

“I can’t believe it.”

Until Mapi comes barrelling over and basically throws herself on poor Aitana’s back.

“Well done my friend! I see you finally came to your senses and asked her out!”

Aitana’s glare was enough to silence Mapi, who instead turned to you.

“And you, miss england, I thought you were straight!”

This statement recieved yet another scowl from Aitana, who instinctively wrapped her arm around your waist.

“I never confirmed my sexuality.”

“You’ve only ever been with boys, in fact you have a boyfriend of like a year?”

“They broke up, idiot.” Aitana answered for you.

“Hey don’t call me idiot! This is just…unexpected?” Mapi said, feigning a look of hurt.

Only then did Lucy and Keira walk in, to see you with Aitana’s arms still securely wrapped around your waist.

“Ha! I told you guys and none of you believed me, every single one of you except Ona owes me €10!” Lucy exclaimed.

“You betted on us?! And they don’t owe you anything, it was an unfair bet, I already told you I liked her!” You said whilst blushing.

“Lucy you cheater!” Mapi shouted.

Lucy, ignoring them sauntered over to you and whispered “So, what type of gay are you?”

“Lucy that’s possibly the weirdest thing that you’ve ever said in your life.” You said, whilst grabbing Aitana’s hand from your waist and tugging her out if the room.

“I still can’t believe this.” Patri muttered.

———————————————————————

Please loves don’t be shy to send in some requests! 🤍