#This is so not fair.. how do you keep catching me off guard like this?!

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie I

~8.4k words

From me: here she is. gonna be at least one more part (probs 2) sorry. I didn't mean to do a series. I just can't shut up and I introduced too many fun characters. I don't know a lot about hockey so a lot of this is probably unrealistic.

Warnings: douchey ex-boyfriend, a little violent (it's hockey after all)

Summary: When the assistant coach's niece comes to take pictures of the team, her lens isn't the only thing capturing Harry Styles heart and soul on and off the ice. Harry wants to win her over more than he wants to win the entire league championship. (Although it would be nice to rub it in her ex's stupid face if he won that too).

The rink was chilly even with the appropriate clothes on. Despite the fact she practically lived in ice arenas for the two years, it never ceased to catch her off guard with how cold it was. To be fair, she was a lot closer to the ice this time around. Her camera pressed into the little glass cutout, her eye checking the visual before she clicked the shutter.

Quickly she pulled away as two of the guys pressed against the glass right next to her. “Hey Sweetheart,” Noah Ashford smiled briefly as he skated off in the other direction. She rolled her eyes. Uncle Charlie, assistant coach of The Arctic Chargers, warned the entire team that his niece was taking residence at the rink and would be part of media photos, headshots, and would be submitting to all major sport reporting outlets. The team was told without question, not to bother her in any way.

Naturally the group of twenty twenty-something year-old hockey players were going to do nothing of the sort.

Captain Evander Langston swished almost gracefully over to her. He stopped in front of her with a puff of ice at his feet. “Do you think I have a good side?”

She shook her head with a smirk and looked over the photos she just took in the last three minutes. “Probably not the left. You’ve been checked into the board over there about five times this practice alone.”

He put a hand on his chest. “Sweetheart, you wound me.”  Sweetheart was the name Uncle Charlie called her in front of the whole team during the introduction and so it was the only thing any of them paid attention to from their coach. “Don’t say that in front of the others,” he pleaded quietly.

“I would never, Cap,” she smiled kindly.

He returned her grin with his own. “You call me Cap, and I’m going to have a problem with Coach’s rule, Sweetheart. But I know we’re all going to like having you around to keep us in check.”

“Lang, you better not be flirting when your technique needs work!” Kian Calloway shouted across the ice where he slapped a puck into the open net from the blue line.

“You better not be flirting, period, Lang!” Uncle Charlie called.

“Yeah!” Callie repeated to his captain. She had gone over the nicknames with her uncle before starting. Lang, Asher, and Callie were easy and as some of the major stars of the team, it made sense she would chat with them most. “If anyone is going to flirt with her, it’s going to be me!”

“I’ll sit you for less, Callie,” Charlie warned.

She couldn’t help but laugh. But she didn’t mind the attention nor care. It was adorable. Like a group of puppies looking for attention. With a shake of her head, she made her way around the glass and boards for another angle of the players on the ice. She wanted shots of the goalie. Niall Horan seemed much too nice to be a hockey player but perhaps that’s why he was the goalie. He was the first one to introduce himself and he didn’t seem to have the temper that the other players did over trivial things (like tying skates together or putting salt in someone’s Gatorade). Niall blocked shots from his teammates as if it was nothing but breathing. In a way it was stunning, nearly beautiful.

Hockey was violent, yes. But there was beauty in it, too. The way players skated backwards, cupped the puck on their stick. The speed, agility, and gracefulness required to stay standing. It was all really beautiful, and she was excited to be up close this time around. For the last two or so years she had been in a box cheering for her ex-boyfriend, right forward for the Glacier Wolves, Kael Crowe.

To be completely honest, she should have known it wouldn’t have worked out. Among the cheating, the belittling, and all the other things that were, in hindsight, an abysmal part of dating him, the orange and blue coloring wasn’t her favorite. The Arctic Chargers black and silver jerseys were much more her speed. Kael was her boyfriend of years and years but once he made it to the majors three years ago, things were very different.

“You can come on the ice, Sweetheart, we’re almost done!” Asher said.

Even though she had dated a hockey player for nearly a decade (most of which took place during college) she couldn’t skate. Uncle Charlie tried when she was younger to teach her, but the balance and coordination was not in her wheelhouse. She longed to skate better. Figure skaters were so dainty and beautiful as they glided on the ice. She was neither of those things and almost dreaded getting on the ice in the boots she was wearing. If she fell in front of her uncle, it was embarrassing. She could only imagine how embarrassing it would be in front of an entire professional hockey team.

“One second!”

She wanted to prolong the agony. Plus, with her fragile camera it seemed like a death sentence to send her out there. Even if it was what she was getting paid to do. It wasn’t the most lucrative job she had, but it was what she wanted to do most. She was grateful for the opportunity and hoped it would kickstart into something more. Photography was a major passion for her. Pictures of anything. Her computer was filled with pictures of the sun and sky from the summer. Snowy days in the winter. Pictures of her parents’ dog. Her uncle’s kids on birthdays. She was the official photographer of family weddings and more. But it wasn’t steady. A lot of her post-college young life had been put on hold to dote on Kael. Something she regretted but couldn’t do anything about now.

Uncle Charlie was kind to help her out and she thought starting now was better than never starting at all.

“Styles is that you?!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t piss yourselves in excitement,” the voice was right beside her.

“You better be fucking cleared before touching this rink,” Ray Wheeler, head coach and another surrogate uncle to her was a bit gruffer in his delivery to the players than Charlie most of the time.

The man beside her slapped his hand, paper held pressed to the glass. “Doctor-cleared for takeoff,” he called. A round of cheers went up and she snapped another picture of the excitement, ignoring the one and only Harry Styles beside her.

Harry Styles was Kael’s rival. The same draft class (although begrudgingly, Kael would admit Harry went first), and almost the same position—left forward. Fortunately, they were in different conferences, so they only ever played one another twice a season. Unless they made it to finals which hadn’t happened yet. But in her opinion, it was only a matter of time. Harry made headlines for his skill and ability, fitness, and overall dominance on the ice. He was protective of his best friend in goal—he and Niall were a pair like no other. Which meant when they did play each other, Kael knew exactly how to get under Harry’s skin.

“Who are you?” He asked.

Harry wasn’t here for her formal introduction to the team. Before she could open her mouth, Uncle Charlie was there. “That’s my niece Styles. She’s off limits so just make your way to the locker room.”

“Ah,” he smiled.

It should have been noted that in addition to skill and ability, fitness, and dominance on the ice, Harry was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. His eyes were green which sure as hell meant God was in fact a woman because no man would know to make Harry even more beautiful with forest green eyes. He was tall, even taller on skates. His skin glowed in a way that should have been illegal when she spent half an hour dousing her face in ten moisturizing products each night to achieve the same look and Harry spent most of his time indoors on an ice rink. Was it the chill that made his cheeks pinker? Would she get the same glow working here all season? She could only hope.

But it was that smile that did her in. His straight teeth peeking out from his lips. The dimples. The arrogance behind the expression. The pink curve of his upturned lips went right through her as he grinned at her.

“Nice t’meet you,” he held his hand out.

“Hands off!” Charlie shouted again.

Harry chuckled as she took his hand with an eyeroll introducing herself. “I’m your photo media specialist, if you will.”

“Excellent,” Harry grinned. “Let me know if y’need me t’pose a certain way,” he winked.

She shook her head and Niall skated up to the side. “Hey Sweetheart,” he said.

“Hi, baby, I missed you,” Harry answered with a grin. Niall shook his head flipping his friend off which made her giggle. Niall remained focused on her.

“Your Uncle said you might need help walking out here.”

“Oh, do we have a skating rookie on our hands?” Harry asked. Her cheeks felt hot under the assumption. Even though it was accurate.

“I suck at skating,” she shrugged. There wasn’t any use playing it off—they would know in a matter of seconds. “I get too nervous and lose my balance,” she admitted.

They both tilted their heads at her. She knew that vulnerability wasn’t something seen on the ice. It seemed almost trivial to admit, but she knew it clearly threw them for a loop. “I can walk you out,” Harry offered with that sinfully delicious smile.

“Coach said he was going to rebreak all of your fingers if you touch her."

“Oh, please let me walk you out,” Harry practically bounced with excitement.

She worried her eyes were going to remain in the back of her head from rolling them so much, but she supposed that would come with the territory with working for a group of boys. “Thank you, Niall. I should be okay. Just don’t let anyone laugh at me too much if I fall on my butt.”

“We don’t want you t’fall on such a pretty asset, Rookie. Are y’sure I can’t help?”

She ignored Harry, keeping her eyes on Niall. “No one will laugh,” he assured her, a smile toying at his lips as he slipped his helmet back on. “I offered, but she’s stubborn like you, Coach!”

The laughter that ensued was a good distraction for her to make her move. She unlocked the rink door and stepped onto the ice following behind Niall. Each step was carefully taken, knowing the traction of her winter boots were better than any other pair of shoes she owned but would never compare to the blade of skate.

Three little steps was about as far as she could go it seemed. Right as her footing was about to be lost on her and send her to the hard ice, a hand caught her elbow and kept her upright. “Rookie, love,” he tisked. “I told you I could help.”

She looked at him briefly knowing that his good looks got him any girl he wanted. She heard the rumors of the string of girls he had (perhaps one for every city he visited) and she knew of every bad thing that Kael had to say about him. But the kindness of him to catch her was sweet. Even she couldn’t deny that. Kael merely laughed each time she fell, it wasn’t mean spirited per se, but it was almost like he was glad she couldn’t skate. A way to be better than her.

God, she wished she had taken the hint a lot sooner.

Harry’s skates weren’t even tied yet. “Jus’ wait,” he said and knelt to lace them up. She had to imagine he rushed to get out here just knowing she wouldn’t make it across the ice.

Once tied, Harry held her elbow again and skated so effortlessly beside her barely moving as he glided alongside her. No one paid attention to her slow steps, and she could feel Harry’s grip firm but not hard on her arm. Almost sensing when she was going to misstep before she did. It made her heart skip a beat.

No. She couldn’t think like that. She wasn’t going to fall for another hockey player ever.

“M’teaching m’niece t’skate. I can teach you,” he shrugged. It wasn’t arrogant the way he said it. She was sure anyone else that knew she was in their mid-twenties (especially someone with a famous hockey player for an ex-boyfriend of eight years, and famous major league hockey coach for an uncle) would expect her to be able to skate. Instead, one of the top players in the league was at her elbow barely acknowledging that it was weird. Perhaps the vulnerability she mentioned to him and Niall really meant something to him. Or maybe she was just reading into it—which she definitely shouldn’t have been reading into it.

“It’s a real shame you won’t have that hand to play with after all, Harry,” Uncle Charlie shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Charlie, I can handle a group of boys,” she rolled her eyes again, earning a bout of laughter from the group. But she knew that Uncle Charlie was worried about Harry specifically. He was a lot like Kael. In another life, Harry would have been a weakness for her. But not anymore. She was done with hockey guys.

“M’jus’ making sure she doesn’t fall. Sad y’couldn’t teach her t’skate. Some uncle you are,” he shrugged casually.

The group laughed again, and she smirked. Charlie ignored the childish behavior of his players but rubbed his middle finger on his nose like he had an itch aimed for Harry “They’re all yours, Sweetheart. Just tell them where you want them. They’ve all been instructed to listen carefully unless they want to do suicides tomorrow at practice, so be honest if they don’t listen. Or lie if you see fit,” Uncle Charlie remarked making everyone groan. “Harry, go get your gear she needs individual pictures too.”

His eyes flickered to Niall for several seconds. Right as he released her arm, Niall now stood beside her and waited for direction. He didn’t hold her elbow like Harry did, but it was clear there was an unspoken message they shared telepathically. That little flutter in her chest made it’s appearance once more solely because Harry was kind to her about her inability to skate.

No, she wasn’t going to fall for it.

She wasn’t going to fall for the hot left wing of her uncle’s team just because he offered to teach her to skate and didn’t make fun of her because she couldn’t.

Nope. She wasn’t.

Not even a little.

Right?

*

The boys were decidedly sweet. Despite the fact it was like trying to wrangle a group of twenty toddlers into one spot. They sat nicely for their headshots individually, but once she tried to get them into various poses and group shots with their respective lines it proved a little more difficult. (Don’t even get her started on how the whole team shot went).

Harry stood beside her while she took pictures of everyone but him. His presence was comforting in a way she didn’t want to admit so readily. It had been less than an hour since she spoke to him. When he returned with all his gear in place, he held a small rug that the coaches often used to stand at center ice and call drills. He laid it before her feet, and she didn’t have to worry as much about falling. Niall was her test subject in front of the goal. When she wanted to get another angle, Harry scooped up the little mat and held her elbow and let her guide while he slid alongside her at a pace that was much too slow for a professional hockey player. But Harry didn’t seem to mind.

“Can I see?” He asked while the others skated around, messing around at the other end of the rink. She was now at the bench where she was safe from slipping. Harry leaned over the rail, dropping his gloves onto the wooden seat beside her. She offered her camera to him. Carefully he cradled it, like he knew it really was precious to her. Silently, he looked at the little screen. A smile grew on his face as he admired how his pictures came out. “These are awesome, Rookie.”

“Thank you,” did her cheeks feel warmer from the compliment? She smiled softly as he looked through several photos of himself. Harry Styles was lucky he didn’t have a bad side. Not that she would tell him that.

“How come y’didn’t do this for Crowe’s team?” He asked clicking through photos of his teammates.

She blinked, the smile melting from her face. “You know about me and Kael?”

“Well, yeah. S’the whole hands-off talk Coach gave us. Said you’re done with hockey players,” Harry shrugged one shoulder, his gaze focused on the lines and group shots on the screen of her camera. “Fortunately for me, I don’t consider your ex a real hockey player,” he smiled at the screen. “But I haven’t told Coach ‘bout that loophole jus’ yet.”

She snorted and shook her head. The flirty comment was cute. She could admit that. Plus, a dig at her shitty ex made her feel a little lighter. But she wasn’t going to fall for Harry’s easy-going charisma.

If she repeated it to herself enough, it would stick.

“I will not be dating real and-or imaginary hockey players,” she told him.

“At least give me a chance t’change your mind, Rookie,” he offered.

“No, thank you,” she shook her head politely. He frowned. She laughed softly. “You genuinely look down by my answer.”

“Hell yeah,” he scowled. “Y’take pretty pictures and y’wrangled this ragtag group,” he sighed almost dreamily. “And you’re absolutely beautiful t’boot.”

That made her smile, at least. He was an expert flirter. “Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that.”

“Enough t’let me take you on a date?”

“No.”

“Ugh.”

She laughed again. “Thank you for helping me around the ice,” she said graciously. “I’ll tell Uncle Charlie you were a perfect gentleman after he left.”

“Rookie, love, you’ll ruin m’reputation,” he called after her as she made her way around the rink toward the exit.

*

Her apartment was not in the nice part of town. To be fair, it was only just over the border from the nicer side. From her place she could see the bar she would be working at on the days she wouldn’t be at the rink. She hadn’t told Uncle Charlie about it because she knew he would be pissed if he saw where she lived. But it was the right price and honestly, the other tenants weren’t bad.

She suspected one of her neighbors on the first floor was... an entrepreneur... for his... small business. Michael was very wary of her at first, but she was lucky because he wore a hockey jersey the day, she met him, Callie’s number and name on the front and back. She hadn’t gone to the rink yet because she was getting a lot of her things and affairs settled. That evening she moved in, she got him tickets to a home game through her uncle (along with a dozen cookies to welcome herself to the building). To his credit, Michael looked weary that the tickets were fake, but the cookies were good. They weren’t special seats or anything, but they weren’t bad seats either. He knocked on her door the day after the game and it was clear she wasn’t going to have any issues with her neighbor. “That was cool. If you need anything, I got you,” he assured her with a grin. “That car you got, I’ll keep an eye on it for you when you’re not around... you’re too sweet to be living here.”

She smiled. “Thanks Michael.”

On the second floor lived an older couple. They kept to themselves, but she was sure to give them a dozen cookies as well and offered to shovel out their cars when it snowed. But once Michael saw her out there shoveling, he joined her as well. She brought a hockey stick autographed by the whole team for their grandson. She couldn’t wait to hear how he enjoyed that Christmas gift.

Her neighbor on the third floor just down the hall was Marcellus. He went by Marc and told her that he had a boyfriend and if she had an issue with that, it was too fucking bad. The previous tenant must have been a piece of work. She laughed at him, handed off her dozen cookies and shrugged. “If he breaks your heart, I have a team of hockey boys who can take him on,” she giggled.

So, Marc loved her too.

She wouldn’t be jogging around the neighborhood any time soon, but it was nice she wouldn’t have to worry about her car being stolen (although good luck to anyone who tried to get that piece of crap to start without a prayer), or getting robbed on her way into the building.

Inside her little studio apartment was a small kitchen. There was enough space for a small loveseat, a bed, and TV. She had a coffee table and a counter to sit at for breakfast. The bathroom was surprisingly spacious and modern for a rundown studio apartment building.

After a full day at the rink, she was chilly. A shower was just what she needed before she ventured into the cold again. Letting the hot water soothe her cold neck and back was so nice. While her hair air-dried, she transferred and then sifted through her pictures on her laptop. The edits she made were small. The lighting and shadows only needed to be adjusted a little. She loved the natural look of the of the players in their element.

She forwarded the photos to Charlie for approval, and he would send them to the higher ups for printing.

They look stunning, Sweetheart. Incredible job.

Grinning she looked over the photos she took of Harry again. He was by far the best-looking guy on the team (not that the others weren’t good-looking but alas). Even in the photos where you couldn’t see his pretty face, there was a presence that made him look more attractive. It was obvious he was a good player. His talent was evident in the photos, and she was proud of herself for being able to capture it.

There was a knock on her door. She padded quietly across the room, peeked through the peephole to see Marc, before she opened it. “Hi,” she smiled.

“You have to teach me hockey,” he said. “This man is obsessed, and I don’t even know what you call the ball.”

“Puck.”

“Exactly.” She laughed. He glanced around her apartment. “Your talents are wasted on this run-down place—holy hottie, who’s that?”

Her computer screen remained on Harry’s smiling individual photo. Dimples on full display and looking intense but happy. “That’s Harry Styles.”

“I think I’ll like hockey after all.”

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Listen, I have a shift I have to get to, but there’s a game on tomorrow afternoon, come over and we’ll watch it, and I’ll teach you,” she offered.

“Bring flashcards of the players. It’ll make me more interested.”

She tied the apron around her waist as he sifted through the photos. “God damn, is this what all hockey players look like?” He asked.

“Bye Marc,” she pulled his arm and pushed him toward her door. “See you tomorrow.”

*

The Locker Room was a local restaurant owned by Louis Tomlinson. It was a hot spot for the players to go to on off days and after a win (they refrained from going after a loss unless absolutely necessary). The fans that went were not allowed to be aggressive about the players, but after a while, they got used to seeing the players so often, it became a nice place to be themselves.

Asher and Lang were playing darts while Niall and Callie focused on a game of pool. Harry sat back sipping his beer analyzing his contacts looking for the hookup he wanted for the evening. They had curfew at midnight since there was a game tomorrow evening which left him with ample time to peruse his list, meet up with the girl, and get home by midnight before he turned into a pumpkin.

“Who’s the lucky lady tonight?” Louis asked clapping a hand on Harry’s back.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he chuckled.

“Well, when the new waitress comes over, you are not to make her uncomfortable. I already warned her.”

“I would never,” he rolled his eyes, still scanning the names.

“Uh-huh,” Louis nodded. “Of course. Tell your teammates too. She’s off limits.”

“What’s up with every new girl being off limits in our life?” Callie asked.

“Coach won’t let us date his niece and you won’t let us date the new girl,” Niall explained to Louis for clarification.

“Fortunately, it’s the same person, so you don’t have to lose out on two girls.”

Harry pulled away from his screen to admire the pretty girl he met at the rink earlier in the day. His grin grew. “Oh, Rookie, it’s you,” he cooed.

“Oh Jesus,” Louis sighed. “Watch out for that one, love,” he patted her on the back.

“So, I’ve heard,” she smiled.

“Is she ours?” Asher asked excitedly.

“As long as you don’t torture her,” Louis shrugged.

“We would never!”

“Eleanor refuses to set foot back here because of you all.”

“Hire meaner waitstaff.”

“Best of luck, love,” Louis shook his head.

“What can I get you guys?” She asked sweetly.

“Uncle Charlie doesn’t pay you enough that you have to slum it here?” Lang asked.

“I heard that!” Louis shouted.

Harry was...quite taken. From the moment he laid eyes on her. The concentration on her face as she took pictures, the way her hair was pinned up, how bundled she was. Her smile was sexy. The quips that spilt from her mouth perhaps even sexier. Harry was certain she was a dream because good things at the rink consisted of goals, interviews, and the pizza from the snack bar. Not a pretty girl with an expensive camera and his assistant coach as her uncle.

Now her hair was still pinned back, an apron tied around her waist, and the black and silver uniform as homage to his own. Harry wanted her draped in the number eleven and his name on her back ASAP.

It was cute she couldn’t skate. Cute how passionate she was on day one taking pictures. She wasn’t flustered by their rowdiness, or their annoying nature. Harry knew that she was used to hockey boys—had to be if her ex was one of the top forwards in the league (although Harry didn’t recognize that too often). He liked how she didn’t take shit from them but was still kind. She was funny, creative, and lovely.

And he only saw her in action for a short time.

But it was enough to make him put his phone away and not think about hooking up with someone tonight. His focus would be on her waiting on the team and (hopefully) getting to know her more so he could rationalize falling for someone so out of his league and someone so off limits.

“Hi Rookie, love,” Harry smiled as she approached his table. She took orders from the other four hanging around.

“Hi Harry,” she answered.

“M’happy to see you again.”

She nodded. “It’s only been a few hours, Harry.”

“S’too long t’go without seeing your pretty face,” he assured her.

She rolled her eyes, but Harry noticed how her cheeks flushed with color. “What do you want to drink?” She asked instead.

“Are you on the menu?”

“Does that work on other girls?”

“Yes.”

“It’s probably because of the hockey thing you have going on. I promise it wouldn’t work if you weren’t a professional,” she shrugged.

“Good thing m’very professional,” he continued, his voice flirty.

“I’m putting down whatever the other guys said,” she shook her head and headed off to get the drinks.

“Harry, don’t bother her. Coach said she’s off-limits,” Niall reminded him while Callie took his shot.

“Yeah, she doesn’t strike me as one-night-stand material,” Asher murmured focusing on his dart going directly into the board.

“Mmm,” Harry sighed. In the brief interaction he had with her, he kind of figured that too. In fact, given she had been with Crowe for nearly a decade, he imagined she didn’t have too much experience dating other than her ex. Not that he would force her—or any woman. Like he said they all knew what they signed up for. Harry wasn’t great at the whole relationship thing. He was constantly traveling with the team. Practice most days, games most nights. Relationships were often one-sided and tiresome. It wasn’t fair to expect someone to wait for five months of the year to have a relationship.

One-night stands were better for him.

But he could at least ask her if she was willing to try him out. God, knew he wanted to try her out the second he looked at her.

“Your drinks,” she announced setting them on Harry’s table. He eyed her as she set the drinks down from the little tray in her arm. “Do you guys want food?” She asked.

“Are you on the menu now?”

“Jesus Christ,” Lang shook his head.

“You’re embarrassing us, Styles,” Callie sighed.

“Chicken wings, you said?” She asked scribbling on the pad of paper in her hand. “Great choice. Do you want anything else?” Harry smiled, opened his mouth to speak but she turned immediately. “Not you,” she said over her shoulder and sauntered over to the pool table. Lang and Asher chuckled to themselves at Harry’s strike out.

“You’re our hero, Sweetheart,” Asher sighed dreamily.

*

When Harry was on the ice there were zero thoughts of anything but slicing up the ice with the blade of his skate. He thought about the opponent across from him. The puck sliding across the ice and into the net. Protecting Niall in goal if anyone dared to lay a hand on him.

But now when they had timeouts, or when he was waiting for the puck to come up to him, he saw the pretty girl with her camera lens pressed to the glass, or in the cut out for the press. Her little badge draped around her neck looked so cute. Everything about her was cute and dainty.

Crowe was a fucking idiot to let her go.

Which made him wonder why he chose to break up with someone so pretty and witty. Creative as well.

Fuck. Coach was going to kill him.

But she really stood her ground. In the month that she had been part of the team, she seemed damn near impervious to Harry’s flirting. Harry worked hard to make her blush (which he could see was easy) but it took a lot to make her speechless. It was obvious Crowe didn’t treat her well. It seemed like Harry’s attention to her was the only time she had been shown affection. That alone pissed him off and made him hate him more. It was like she had never been told how pretty she was. Even when Harry wasn’t actively flirting with her, when he complimented her hair or how her pictures came out, she seemed completely off-guard.

What a fucking dick.

Harry once more wondered why they broke up. He still hadn’t figured it out. There was no way she wasn’t the perfect girlfriend. Especially for a hockey player. For all the reasons Harry didn’t date, she knew precisely what she was getting into and did it anyway. But she doted on his teammates as if she was dating all of them (there was no other way to describe it.) She always had extra tape for sticks. She walked with her cross body filled with supplies for hangovers, minor injuries, and the like. When she waited on them at Louis’ place, she knew their orders and had them ready almost like clockwork for when they arrived.

“Styles!” Coach Wheeler called. “If you’re not going to practice, you can sit out!” He shouted.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to rid his mind of the team’s photographer. The coach’s niece. His pretty waitress.

The star of all his dreams as of late.

*

“Sweetheart, where do you want us?!” Lang called.

She was on the bench, waiting to take some gameday photos. Today she was wearing skates, which made Harry nervous. He knew if she went down, she would protect her precious camera and he didn’t blame her, but it he hated the thought of her getting hurt. “Just by the—” She sighed, closing her eyes mid-sentence and she put her phone to her ear. “Stop fucking calling,” she snapped and then put her phone in her pocket again. “By the goal,” she cleared her throat.

The team stared at her. “Do you have a stalker, babe?” Asher asked.

“No,” she snorted and looked at her camera. She took a test shot of the empty net to make sure everything was set. She stepped tentatively onto the ice, more graceful than the last time she did. But Harry glided over to her quickly. He didn’t touch her, but he was more than ready to catch her. She ignored his presence, not in a mean way at all. Not an ounce of her was mean. Which is why it was so surprising she had that much malice in her voice on the phone.

“Everything okay, Sweetheart?” Charlie asked.

“Yup,” she popped the ‘puh’ sound.

She slid forward very carefully. “S’kind of shooting yourself in the foot here, Rookie. Figure skates have a better blade for beginners. S’harder t’skate on hockey skates for what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I was always told a hockey blade was thicker, so it was better.”

Harry shrugged. “S’not really that big of a deal in m’opinion. Figure skates have a longer blade, better for y’balance. Charlie set y’up with those?” She shook her head.

“No,” her voice was quiet.

“You bought hockey skates on your own?”

“Can you go stand with your team?” She asked dodging his question. He frowned.

“Yeah, sorry, Rookie, love,” he skated off but whistled at his younger teammate, Garrett, the third string forward for his position. Harry tilted his head in her direction and Garrett went over to her, standing way too far away in case she did fall.

“Who got her the skates?” He mumbled to Charlie. He shrugged.

“Not sure. Probably Kael. I would imagine he got a deal from his sponsors.”

God Harry hated him.

*

Mila was someone he saw on a semi-regular basis. Which meant she knew the drill. After their win, they would do their thing. Harry would stay until she fell asleep—because he wasn’t an asshole; and he wasn’t too proud to admit that he liked cuddling. Even if it was only for a little while—and he would send a text the next day to make sure she felt okay. There was no breakfast, no awkward small talk. Just sex. There was no setup to get feelings hurt or hearts broken. Harry was too busy for a girlfriend, and he would make for a shitty boyfriend.

It was cold when he left her place, and he blew into his hands for warmth when he as he headed to his car. There was a text on his phone from an unknown number.

Thought you would want to see the picture that’s on the front page of the sports section for tomorrow :) There was an impressive picture of Harry’s game winning goal. It wasn’t time sensitive but it was the one that broke the tie. The rest of the team held off the offensive line for the remaining ten minutes of the game.

Thanks, Rookie. I’m going to send it to Mum. She’ll print it for the fridge. How’d you get my number?

Kian gave it to me. Is that alright?

Who?

Callie 🙄 You should really learn your friends’ names. Is it okay I have your number?

Of course it’s alright. Just surprised YOU asked for it. Didn’t know you would want to talk to me so bad. You could have asked me yourself.

Sorry, I think have the wrong number.

He chuckled to himself while his car warmed up. The seat heater was heaven on his stiff muscles. Harry liked the cold—he had to being a hockey player. But it was her funny wit that warmed him from the inside out. Are you all still at Louis’?

Yes. Niall and Noah are about to break the air hockey machine.

Who?

🙄 Asher. Sorry. Jesus.

I’ll be right there, Rookie.

*

The next time the team won, Harry looked at the message from Layla asking if he wanted to come over to celebrate. He didn’t really want to. The guys were headed home because they had an early flight and there was no celebrating. Which meant that the pretty girl he wanted to celebrate with wasn’t going to be out and about either. She wouldn’t be doting on his drunk teammates. Wouldn’t be stopping their stupid fights about who’s turn it was to play her in darts. She wouldn’t be making sure they all made it home safely in the Ubers she ordered.

But Harry couldn’t just hang out with her either. There was no reason. She was basically his teammate and he couldn’t figure why she was so guarded. At least not beyond whatever it was she was dealing with Crowe.

“Is he still calling?” Niall asked looking at her phone the bench while she looked at her camera. Her hair always fell so perfectly as she watched the screen.

“Who?” Lang asked.

She sighed. “It’s just Kael.”

“Why?” Callie asked.

She shrugged. “I would have to answer to find out. Which is the last thing I want to do. I need a new phone number; I just haven’t gotten around to it. My schedule conflicts with most regular business hours so I could go to the store.”

“Charlie, you can’t spare her to give her a day off?” Asher asked.

Her uncle rolled his eyes, flipped him off, and continued practicing with the second and third stringers.

Harry sat beside her and peeked over her shoulder at her photos. “Do y’have any non-hockey photos?” She nodded and picked up her phone that was still showing Crowe blowing up her phone with calls and texts. “Why don’t y’block him, Rookie?” She swiped his notification away and she opened the web browser. It was currently on a recipe for carrot cake cupcakes. “Those look good,” he smiled.

She smirked. “It’s Ray’s birthday next week. Carrot cake is his favorite. Figured I’d make you all cupcakes.”

Harry thought she was too sweet for him. Someone with a lineup of women didn’t deserve her sweetness. Someone who was meeting Arya at her place after practice because he could didn’t get a girl like her. Him meeting Nyla after tomorrow’s away game three states away didn’t get someone like the pretty photographer.

Kael’s name kept popping up. “Y’probably never had t’block anybody before,” Harry said quietly. “D’you know how?” He hoped he didn’t sound condescending. But he had the unfortunate pleasure of blocking someone every now and again.

“I know how,” she laughed softly. “It’s just... with Kael, it’s likely to be a thing, you know?” She shrugged. “It’s easier to ignore him.”

“It probably gives him hope,” Harry frowned.

She held out her phone to him and shrugged. “That’s not my problem. I’ll see him in a couple weeks when we’re up North,” she reminded him. “Hopefully by then he’ll get the message; or I’ll have to talk to him in person.”

Harry took her phone and admired the portfolio of photos she displayed for him. The website was all black making her images pop. She was so talented. There were babies and weddings. There were family portraits and just general landscape shots. All of differing but equal beauty and perfection. Natural. Lovely.

Harry swiped away Kael’s name again and clicked on the menu item of the about section.

Two side by side pictures of the pretty girl next to him were on the screen. One with the camera in front of her eye, the other a sweet smile on her face camera in front of her like a prop. Behind the Lens... Thank you for browsing. If you like what you see, I’d be happy to quote you for any need. I have experience in just about any area of photographing. Thank you for letting me part of you day!

Too sweet for someone who was going to never be able to settle down because of his job. No matter how much he wished she could be part of his day.

Kael’s stupid name popped up again. Without another rational thought, Harry answered the call, pressed the phone to his ear, and skated off knowing she couldn’t go after him.

“Finally, baby,” Kael groaned.

“STYLES HOW DARE YOU!” She screamed.

“Crowe, nice t’hear from you.”

“Who the fuck is this?” He growled.

“HARRY!” She was on the ice in her ever-present boots. They weren’t great for walking on ice. She slipped immediately but Lang was right nearby to help her up. Harry was going to feel guilty about that for ages.

“None of your business,” he shook his head. “She doesn’t want y’calling anymore.”

“What the fuck? Put her on the phone!”

“No,” Harry said defiantly. “She doesn’t want t’talk t’you. Ever. Stop calling y’piece of shit.”

Lang looked at Harry wildly as he glided with the pretty girl clutching to his arm. She smacked Harry multiple times on the arm and chest making the coaches laugh. “Give me the phone!” She snapped.

“Give her the phone!” He repeated. “Listen to her!”

“No, y’don’t deserve her,” Harry stepped out of her reach where she lost her balance as she lunged for him. She fell again catching her hands. Thank God she didn’t have her camera. Lang helped her to her feet again and Harry felt a wave of guilt wash over him again. “Y’didn’t appreciate her, her talent, or anything. Y’didn’t get her the right skates, and I don’t know what y’did t’piss her off so bad, but y’not getting her back,” Harry said it so casually. But every word was meant for her.

“Is that you, Styles?” Crowe snarled.

“Bye Crowe, see you in a month!” He said cheerily handing the phone off to her.

She nearly fell again despite holding onto Lang. “What the hell, Harry!”

“I got rid of him,” he shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

Her face was beat red with embarrassment. Her hands had to be cold from the fall. But she still looked adorable as always. Even with a sour expression, she was sweet. Pretty beyond belief. Wide eyes, soft skin, even her nose was cute. She glared at him and spun on her heel. “Get me away from him,” she snapped.

Harry sighed, feeling bummed he pissed her off too much. Lang shook his head at Harry as he helped her back to the bench. She packed up her things and left.

But he couldn’t help but notice that her phone had stopped ringing.

*

She was still mad at him a week later. If she ignored his flirting before, this was an entire new level. She hardly acknowledged his presence. He missed her. In a weird way. He enjoyed bugging her, but perhaps it went to far. It was an invasion of her personal life that he wasn’t privy to, and he didn’t really have any right to deal with her ex-boyfriend.

That didn’t mean anything he said wasn’t anything but the truth.

“Hey Rookie,” he said as she entered the room to get their drink orders for the evening.

“Hi everybody,” she grinned at everyone in turn and glared at Harry.

“Boy you pissed her off,” Niall chuckled.

He shrugged. “Worth it,” because it was. He hated Kael before, he hoped he got the clue.

“You know she had to talk to him, right?” Callie asked. Harry’s head snapped up from his phone screen looking at his contacts once more. Harry wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it exactly but his evenings with the women in his phone were leaving him less and less fulfilled. He wasn’t looking for any grand pronouncements of love. That wasn’t his thing. But the idea of spending the evening with someone didn’t give him the same excitement as it used to.

It was probably the day he met her. But it was sinking in more over the week she had barely spoken to him. “What do y’mean?” He frowned.

“Crowe? She had to talk to him after that stunt you pulled.”

Harry glowered at the table. “Why?”

“Because he wouldn’t stop blowing up her phone and he was threatening to come to her if she didn’t just talk to him. Why do you think she didn’t come with us on the plane the next day?”

Harry felt like a jerk. “Oh.”

“She hates you,” Asher reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “She could have told one of us,” he mumbled. Harry would have sat outside her apartment waiting for him.

“I don’t know if you noticed Harry, but she’s pretty private,” Niall sighed leaning on his pool stick. “I know you meant well, but it kind of fucked up her day.”

Harry pouted. He met her gaze as she brought their drinks out.

And if she spilled Harry’s on him, well, he supposed he deserved that.

*

Harry was a great hockey player, a great friend. A great brother and son. Not to toot his own horn but he thought he truly was the World’s Best Uncle like it said on the T-shirt Gemma had got him when she told him she was pregnant. He was still pretty humble all things considered; always looking to improve. Coach Wheeler was one of his favorite mentors (right after his mum) and he strived to do better by them.

He was bad at Chemistry in school. He wasn’t good at Sudoku. Most recently he felt like he was bad at having sex. The thing he had going with the women he knew didn’t seem to be working for him the way it used to. There was an awkwardness to the hookups when he left. He wasn’t mentally present in the moment.

Harry was pretty certain he would be a shitty boyfriend.

He needed her forgiveness, or the other remaining areas of his life were going to get worse too.

Most notably, he was shit in practice. He worried he was going to be demoted to second string.

Harry arrived early to practice, putting goals in the net two hours before everyone else arrived. He would have to pay to resurface the ice twenty minutes before practice officially started. But he hoped that she was going to show up early with her carrot cake cupcakes. He anticipated she would be just one short. Which Harry deserved on top of everything else too.

Fortunately, she did arrive early.

“Hey,” he waved.

She ignored him, set the cupcakes down on the bench and pulled out her camera. She fiddled with it, wiping the lens off with a cloth, and took some test shots of the ice.

“Rookie, love,” he sighed and skated over to the bench.

“Yes, Mr. Styles? Can I help you?”

“C’mon, Rookie, I’m sorry,” he frowned. “I was just trying to help.”

She rolled her eyes and ignored him. “You must get whatever you want all the time.”

He frowned. “No, I don’t actually,” although from her perspective he could see what she meant.

“Well, me either, so if I’m going to be miserable. So are you.”

He snorted, shook his head. He stepped off the ice and sat on the bench beside her. “I’m sorry, Bunny. Really. I hated that he was bothering you. I didn’t mean t’make it worse, honest. I would have done the same for m’sister or any one of the guys’ girls.”

“I am an adult Harry. I’m independent and I can handle my own shit. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I understand. M’sorry, really. I won’t do it again. But m’sick of y’being mad at me. S’been no fun this week without skating you around, grossly overtipping you jus’ so you’ll spend extra time with us,” he smiled shyly at her.

She sucked her lip into her mouth. For a moment she looked at her lap, obviously thinking something over. “How’d you know he bought me the wrong skates?” Her voice was quiet.

Harry blinked wondering how long she had that question locked and loaded. He shrugged. “I asked Charlie. He said he didn’t. So, I assumed it had to be him.”

She sighed and looked up. “He said figure skates would make me look like try-hard. Hockey skates would make me look more like I belonged on his arm,” she explained. “I didn’t know. I would have...” she shook her head. “It was eye-opening when you said that, and it hurt... and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry too.”

Harry sighed with relief. “You don’t have t’apologize,” he promised. “I’m sorry. Seriously.”

“Apology accepted.”

Harry grabbed her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Thanks Bunny.”

She wrinkled her nose at him in distaste. “I don’t like Bunny.”

“Oh...” his smile grew by the second. “Y’don’t Rookie, love?” He chuckled standing up and getting back on the ice. “Y’probably shouldn’t have told me that,” he winked and skated off.

“There’s no cupcake for you!” She called.

“That’s okay, Bunny!” He shouted back with a grin and sank a shot from half-ice.

Maybe Harry would be a shitty boyfriend, but he was going to be her best friend instead.

--

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[yenqa]

SO AMERICAN! | where you meet tsukishima and—wow you are so american.

♫ – currently playing… olivia rodrigo

warnings – profanity, reader is learning japanese and is american if u couldnt tell! reader is called pretty

pairing – tsukishima x fem!reader

a/n – hashtag semi hiatus! anyways i was reading an ao3 fic while listening to this song and it sparked smth in me so enjoy! (did my research on culture shocks btw guys!!)

word count – 571

You’re smiling at him like you know him.

Tsukishima doesn’t know you. He’s just seen you for the first time when you walked into the gym–presumably to become the manager for the club next year.

It’s starting to worry him, you haven’t been properly introduced, only your eyes have met a few times, yet you don’t hesitate to smile every time you make contact.

You’re not in the same class. But he can tell by your mannerisms that you’re a foreign student. You talk a little louder than most, and your Japanese is accented but not enough where he can’t understand.

He knows he’s spot on when you go to greet Daichi with a handshake, he can see you firmly grip his hand which catches him off guard.

Y/n. That’s your name.

It’s a pretty name he admits to himself, you’re a pretty girl so it fits. He doesn’t acknowledge that–or tries not to.

You’re standing in front of the whole team being introduced to everyone, waving and smiling like you’re old friends.

He can see from his peripheral vision when they all bow that you’re unsure of what to do. You awkwardly tilt your body down too, and he lets out a quiet chuckle.

It’s cute.

He’s disgusted by himself, he thinks that something is up with him.

Shaking his head, he starts his warmups.

He tries not to keep his eye on you, but he can’t help it.

You’re holding a clipboard now, there's a paper on it he can’t see, but he can tell by your furrowed brows that you’re still struggling a bit with reading.

Making an excuse for himself, he walks up to where his water bottle–luckily right next to where you are, turns around and takes a sip of it. He’s standing right next to you now, reading the same paper as him.

Your eyes scan left to right on the paper, he laughs.

Whipping your head over, you ask, “Is something wrong?”

“Right to left, we read right to left.” He speaks a little slower than his usual pace—hoping you wouldn’t be offended.

You aren’t a smile grows on your face instead. “Oh my gosh–I was wondering what was wrong this whole time!” You laugh at yourself, thanking him quietly before restarting, eyes moving right to left this time.

“You’re so american.” He mutters, a chuckle comes out of him as he says it.

“Is that a compliment?” You ask, the paper is discarded now, your full attention is on him.

“Whatever you want it to be.”

You roll your eyes, hitting his shoulder with no real force behind it, “Whatever Kei.”

He doesn’t miss the fact that you’ve called him Kei instead of his surname. He brushes it off as another mistake, you’re new to the country after all.

Later he hears you complimenting “Kageyama and Hinata”, your voice is still louder than what a normal student speaks, and you’re gushing about their skills, to their faces. But then he looks over at you, and you two make eye contact.

He almost misses how you wink at him, it's a teasing one but it still makes his heart flutter. Then as quickly as you looked over, you looked away, a bright smile present on your face while you talked to his other teammates.

It’s definitely not fair of you to make him feel this much. Because he might just fall in love.

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[levisjinchuriki]

truly, madly, deeply - toji fushiguro

part 1

summary: toji didn't realize what he lost until he did

warning: angst, crying, toji pleading his case, yelling, mentions of toxic relationship

toji rests until late morning. you don’t disturb him, knowing he needs the sleep after the storm he weathered last night. while he’s out, you sneak into the room to set a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand for his inevitable migraine. it's not much, but it’s something. 

you linger in the doorway for a moment after, watching him. in his sleep, toji looks so different. the sharp edges of his features are softer now. the furrow in his brow from last night is gone, replaced by a peace that’s rare. it pains you to watch him this way, knowing that the man lying before you carries so much anguish.

when he finally wakes, you hear the creak of the mattress and quiet shuffle of his feet before he appears in the living room, drawn by the smell of you making breakfast. he lingers in the doorway at first, then steps further into the kitchen, his footsteps slow and tentative.

you don’t say anything, keeping your focus on plating the food. you know he’s watching you, debating what to say—or if he should say anything at all.

you plate the meals, just like you always used to, and set his on the counter. still, you don’t make eye contact. it’s not intentional, just the natural result of a mind weighed down with too many thoughts. but toji’s eyes are on you, steady and unrelenting, following your every movement.

should he thank you for last night? apologize for the mess he dragged into your home? ask how you slept, even though he knows the answer? none of it feels right, and the words remain lodged in his throat.

instead, what comes out is something entirely different.

“can you stop?”. his tone is sharp but not angry—tired, maybe. it’s enough to make you pause, your hands hovering over the dish towel on the counter. slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze for the first time.

“stop what?” you ask puzzled. you’re not trying to frustrate him. you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing.

"acting like everything is normal. it's driving me crazy" toji says, his tone edged with frustration. it’s not really what he wants to say. he’s never been good at expressing himself, not in the way you need him to be.

you notice the turmoil flickering behind his eyes. his words only skim the surface of what’s really going on beneath. there’s so much pain there, unspoken and unresolved, that even he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it.

"i don’t like seeing you like this" you admit softly. it’s an honest confession, one you’ve been holding back for longer than you care to admit. your words catch him off guard, and he visibly flinches, his tough exterior momentarily cracking. for a second, he looks like he’s about to say something vulnerable, but just as quickly, he recovers, masking his emotions with sharp words.

"yeah, well, whose fault is that?" he bites out, his tone harsher than he intends. the second the words leave his mouth, regret flashes across his face. 

he knows it’s his fault. it’s always been his fault. every hardship, every heartbreak, every sleepless night you endured in this relationship has been caused by his actions, his choices. and yet, he still lashes out, deflecting because it’s easier than facing his guilt head-on.

you draw in a breath, steadying yourself against the sting of his words. "that’s not fair" you say quietly. it’s not. he knows it’s not.

toji’s gaze drops to the floor, his jaw tightening as the truth of your words settles over him. the blame shouldn’t be on you for leaving him. if anything, he’s lucky you stayed as long as you did, long past the point when most people would have walked away.

in hindsight, he doesn’t even know why you didn’t leave sooner. you deserve so much more than he ever gave you. 

"how many times has this happened before last night?" you ask carefully, afraid of pushing him too far.

toji’s shoulders sag under the weight of your question. embarrassment flickers across his face, and you can see the truth in the way his jaw tightens. he’s lost count. he doesn’t want to say it, but you already know. his bad habits weren’t new, and they’ve worsened since the separation.

"why does it matter?" he mutters, his tone defensive but laced with shame.

you hesitate, your heart heavy with the truth you’ve been keeping to yourself. it feels too big to say, too tangled with all the unresolved emotions swirling between you. but he’s looking at you now, his eyes searching yours, and you know he deserves an answer.

"because i care about you" you say.

for a moment, his expression softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as your words sink in. he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the conflict playing out in his eyes. 

just because you’re not together anymore doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring. it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped worrying about him. it doesn’t mean you want to see him drink himself into an early grave. and it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving him. that part, you don’t say, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniably there.

you half-expect him to make a flippant comment, a typical toji move to deflect from his feelings. but instead, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. there’s a twitch in his nose—a tell you’ve come to recognize, the small sign that he’s fighting back emotions he doesn’t want to show.

“don’t do that” he warns. you can hear the strain in his voice, like he's on the edge of something he doesn’t know how to handle. he’s so far from the image of the hard, untouchable man he’s always pretended to be. instead, he looks fragile—struggling, hurting, desperately trying to hold himself together while everything inside him feels like it’s breaking.

toji sniffles, his hand coming up to rub over his face, as if he can scrub away the emotion threatening to surface. the sight of it tugs at your heart in ways you can’t control.

“why did you call me last night?” you ask quietly, your voice careful. 

he looks at you then, and for a second, your resolve nearly crumbles. his gaze is so broken, so full of regret. the deep sigh he lets out seems to drain what little fight he has left.

“because no matter how hard i try, i can’t get you out of my damn head” he says.

your heart hammers in your chest. you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. 

“i know i don’t have the right to call you anymore” he continues bitterly—mostly at himself, at the situation, at everything. “but i just—i needed to hear your voice”.

there it is. the truth hurts to hear. despite everything that’s happened, despite the space and pain between you, he still turned to you. when he had no one else, when he was at his lowest, it was you he called. that has to mean something—doesn’t it?

you blink, your chest tightening as you watch him struggle to keep his composure. toji— tough, unshakable toji—looks like he’s barely holding it together.

“i don’t know how to stop” he admits after another long moment of silence, his voice breaking just enough to make you flinch. “thinking about you. missing you”. his hands hang at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as if he’s fighting some invisible force. “i screwed it all up. i know that. but you—”. he looks at you then, his gaze so intense it feels like it might break you. “you’re still the only thing that makes sense to me. even now”. 

his words sting, but you can see the pain in his eyes—the regret that’s etched so deeply into his features as if it’s become a part of him. he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach for you, even though you can tell he wants to.

you’re not even sure what you want to say. that he’s wrong? that he’s right? that you’ve been struggling too?

your heart twists painfully at his words. you want to be angry. you want to tell him that he doesn’t get to just show up like this, throwing his pain at your feet. but you can’t. because deep down, you know that anger isn’t what you feel.

“do you think that makes it any easier for me?” you ask, your voice trembling. “watching you like this? knowing you’re hurting?”. your eyes fill with tears as you stare into his. 

“we ended things for a reason. for a lot of reasons.” your voice wavers as a thousand emotions swirl inside you. his eyes squeeze shut, and he nods, like he’s bracing himself for the final blow. but when he looks at you again, there’s a desperation there you’ve never seen before.

“i know” he says hoarsely. “and you were right to leave. i know i screwed everything up. i know i don’t deserve this—don’t deserve you—but…” he trails off, his voice cracking. “i’ve never felt like this before. not with anyone else. not even close. and i can’t… i don’t want anyone else”.

you want to believe him. you want to believe that he’s changed, that this time will be different, that he won’t let you down again. but you’ve heard promises before. 

“i can’t trust you” you say, the words trembling as they leave your lips, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. even though you’re the one who left, it feels like you’re breaking up all over again, reopening wounds you thought had begun to heal.

“i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i mean it this time. i swear i do”. his voice cracks, and it’s enough to make your chest ache. 

his words sound genuine, the emotion in his voice undeniable, but how can you trust that? he’s hurt you before, made promises before. still, the way he looks at you now—like you’re the only thing holding him together—makes you hesitate.

“i still love you” he adds, the confession spilling out like it’s been tearing him apart. his gaze locks onto yours, desperate and searching for something—anything—that might give him hope.

you look away, wiping at your tears with trembling fingers. you're torn, trapped between the part of you that aches to believe him—the part that longs for the warmth of the love you once shared—and the part that knows better, the one that remembers the cold, sharp edges of his neglect.

you think of the moments of love and laughter—his low chuckle in your ear, the way he’d pull you into his chest and kiss the top of your head, the rare but precious mornings where the world seemed to stop, just the two of you tangled together in the quiet.

but those memories are eclipsed by others, darker and heavier. broken promises whispered in the aftermath of fights that left you raw, the sting of his absence when you needed him most, the hollow ache of lying awake in bed while he chased after his own demons, leaving you to face yours alone.

it hurts too much.

“i think you should go” you tremble.

toji freezes. for a moment, he looks like he might argue, his mouth opening slightly as if the words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out and plead his case. but they never come. instead, his shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him as your words sink in.

he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as they rake over the strands. his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much confidence, so much fire—are now clouded with regret.

“okay” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it any louder might shatter what little composure he has left. 

he doesn’t move right away. instead, he lingers, his gaze locked on you, searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail, to hold onto this moment even as it slips through his fingers. there’s a quiet desperation in his eyes, a silent plea for you to take it back, to tell him to stay.

but you don’t.

you stand there, frozen, watching as he takes a shaky breath and finally turns toward the door. his movements are slow, reluctant, like every step is an admission of defeat.

when he reaches the door, he hesitates, his hand resting on the handle. for a second, you think he might say something, one last attempt to change your mind. but he doesn’t. he opens the door, stepping out without looking back.

and just like that, he’s gone.

you press your hand to your chest, the ache there unbearable, and you sink onto the couch, tears streaming freely now.

your mind races, his words replaying over and over. i mean it this time. i still love you. i’m sorry. what if he really does mean it? what if he’s changed? what if this time, things could be different?

but then the other voice—the one that remembers the hurt, the loneliness, the promises that were always broken—creeps in. what if he hasn’t? what if it’s the same cycle all over again?

the tears keep coming, and you let them. the ache in your chest feels unbearable, a mix of anger, love, and regret twisting into something you can’t untangle.

you want to believe him. god, you want to believe him. but trust is fragile, and yours has been shattered too many times.

you picture toji on the other side of that door, his shoulders slumped, his face etched with the pain of rejection. you know what he’s feeling because you feel it too—a deep, gnawing emptiness that no amount of reasoning can fill. 

but you also know the truth.

this is the path you chose because it’s the one that hurts less in the long run. toji has to accept that he’s lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you have to accept that some things, no matter how much you want them to, can’t be fixed.

memories of the life you once shared flash through your mind—the laughter that came so easily in the beginning, the quiet nights when words weren’t needed, just the steady rhythm of his breathing as he held you close. 

but then comes the other memories… the arguments that seemed to come out of nowhere, his voice raised, yours breaking. the promises that felt like lifelines at the time but were discarded so casually. the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, the bed cold and empty, wondering why you weren’t enough.

it’s not fair.

you were never the problem.

you clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fight back the surge of anger and grief that threatens to overwhelm you. how many times did you tell yourself that love would be enough? that if you just tried harder, gave more of yourself, things would change? how many times did you accept his apologies, his promises to do better, only to be left in the same cycle of disappointment?

still, the tiny flicker of hope refuses to die. it lingers, stubborn and persistent, whispering what if in the back of your mind. what if this time is different? what if he really means it? what if the love you both still feel is enough to mend what’s been broken?

you hate that hope.

it feels like a betrayal of all the pain you’ve endured, a cruel trick your heart plays to keep you tethered to someone you know isn’t good for you. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to let it go completely.

the weight of your decision feels suffocating, but you remind yourself that trust is a fragile thing. once broken, it’s nearly impossible to piece back together. 

toji has to learn to live with what he’s lost. he has to understand that love isn’t enough without trust, without effort, without change.

your tears have stopped, but the ache in your chest remains, a dull and constant reminder of what you’ve let go.

you hope toji will find a way to heal, to become the man he claims he wants to be. but more than that, you hope you can find the strength to move forward, to leave the pieces of your shattered trust behind and rebuild yourself into someone whole again.

because no matter how much you still love him, you can’t keep breaking your own heart in the hope that one day, he’ll stop breaking it for you.

---

taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @smaranshakthi

thank you for reading my mini series!! i haven't made an angst fic in a long time and as much as i wanted to have them be together in the end, it felt forced. don't be mad! <3

[wendichester]

₊˚⊹♡ swipe right,

summary. dean winchester doesn’t really do dating apps. but then, he matches with you.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 928

You almost didn’t swipe right.

His profile was suspiciously vague—just a single, grainy picture of him leaning against a sleek black Impala, wearing a worn leather jacket, a confident smirk playing on his lips. No bio. No interests. No cheesy pickup line.

Just Dean, 35 and a damn good smirk.

You stared at it for a moment, finger hovering over the screen. This guy could be anyone. A serial killer. A scam artist. A catfish. But something about that stupid smirk made your stomach flip.

So, against your better judgment, you swiped right.

And to your surprise, you matched instantly.

Now, you’re sitting across from him in a dimly lit bar, a little buzzed from your second drink, trying to process that yes, this is real, and yes, he is even hotter in person.

Dean Winchester is a flirt. A charmer. He’s warm whiskey and cocky grins, all easy confidence and smooth one-liners. But there’s something else, too—something genuine beneath all that bravado.

“So, tell me,” you tease, swirling your drink, “do you always meet women off Tinder, or am I special?”

Dean huffs, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know how I ended up on that damn app. My brother set it up.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He takes a sip of his beer, lips curling around the bottle in a way that makes your stomach flip. “Said I needed to ‘get out there’ more. Thought I’d just get a bunch of bots, but then—” He gestures at you with his bottle. “Lucky me.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I prefer charming.”

“Debatable.”

His grin widens, and God, he’s got a nice smile. It’s not just his looks—it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

And maybe it’s the drinks, or maybe it’s the way he keeps looking at your lips, but there’s a charge in the air, crackling, electric.

Dean leans in, forearms resting on the table, voice dropping just a little. “You’re a lot cuter than I expected.”

You arch a brow. “Expected?”

He shrugs, smirk playing on his lips. “Well, you never know with these apps. Thought I’d get catfished.”

You scoff, pretending to be offended. “You thought I was the catfish? That’s rich, coming from a guy with one blurry picture and no bio.”

Dean chuckles, eyes twinkling. “Okay, fair.” He takes another sip of his drink, gaze flicking over your face, warm and amused. “But if I’m being honest, I almost didn’t swipe on you either.”

Your heart dips slightly. “Oh?”

“Yeah. You seemed…” He searches for the right word. “Too good to be true.”

The words catch you off guard. Your lips part slightly, and Dean holds your gaze for a moment longer before glancing down at his drink, almost like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

The air between you shifts—less playful, more charged.

You tilt your head, giving him a soft, teasing smile. “So, is this the part where you ask me back to your place?”

Dean hums, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Tempting. But I’m a gentleman.”

You snort. “Oh, really?”

He leans in a fraction closer, voice dropping lower. “Yeah. Which means I’ll at least walk you to your door before I start thinking about how bad I wanna kiss you.”

Your breath catches. His tone, his expression—it’s all heat, all smoldering intent.

And suddenly, you’re not so interested in finishing your drink.

It’s a blur after that. The way he keeps his word, walking you to your door like some old-school gentleman—until you pull him inside, pressing your lips to his the second it closes behind you.

Dean groans, hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. His mouth is warm, insistent, and when his fingers slide into your hair, tilting your head back, you let out the softest sigh.

His body is solid beneath your hands, strong, radiating heat. And when he backs you against the wall, pressing his hips into yours, you feel just how much he wants this.

“Jesus,” he pants against your lips, forehead pressing against yours. “Tell me if I need to slow down.”

You shake your head, fingers curling into his jacket. “Don’t you dare.”

His chuckle is dark, rough, as his hands skim down your sides, settling on your hips. “Bossy.”

You grin, dragging your nails lightly down his chest. “You like it.”

He makes a sound low in his throat, then lifts you easily, guiding your legs around his waist. You let out a surprised laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Show-off,” you murmur.

Dean smirks. “Told you, sweetheart. I’m charming.”

And then he’s carrying you toward your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

Later, when you’re tangled together in your sheets, breathless and warm, Dean lets out a satisfied sigh, fingertips tracing lazy circles on your hip.

“Gotta say,” he murmurs, “best damn Tinder date I’ve ever been on.”

You laugh, stretching against him. “Oh, so you’ve had others?”

Dean pauses, then smirks. “Nope. Just wanted to mess with you.”

You swat his arm, and he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips. The playfulness fades slightly as he looks at you, something softer in his gaze.

“Glad I swiped right,” he admits quietly.

Your heart does a stupid little flip. “Me too.”

Dean’s smirk returns, but it’s warmer now, fonder. He pulls you closer, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Told you,” he murmurs against your skin. “Lucky me.”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @img14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @aerinu

[dixonsstinkysock]

It’s Temporary

AN: This was going to be a random blurb but I’m too into this and he’s such a dork. Guys don’t tell anyone but I kinda wanna write smut, I’m not going to because I’m scared but y’know.

(Heavily inspired by a bot on C.AI, pretty sure the user is @/zetali_09 so if you see this i love you.)

Warnings: Swearing, mention of an apartment blowing up….suggestive???

Set during Season 1, before the timeskip…

The cold, Upper city, night air chilled you to the core. The dark streets only illuminated by the few street lights scattered here and there. You wrap your cloak around you a little tighter as you made your way to the meeting spot. Making a sharp turn down a dark alleyway, you narrowly miss a couple of enforcers doing their nightly rounds.

Leaning against the cool, damp, brick wall. Enjoying the noises of the city, letting time pass by as you wait for your companion. Around a half an hour later, you hear heavy footsteps and the soft click of the high-cost, well made shoes echoing throughout the alley. You recognized those steps, he saved up for a long time to purchase those shoes, no way could you forget them. You open your eyes, turning towards the culprit of the noise. “Took you long enough, thought I was gonna rot out here.” You smiled at the shadowed man, stepping into the moonlight.

“Sorry, had a few things to finish up with my work. Left later than I expected…”

You walk up to him, trapping him into one if your famous bear hugs. An unfamiliar scent wafts from him, its sweet…it’s expensive. Definitely not his signature cologne smell—no, something different. You both stay there for a moment, enjoying the new company. Everything seems to fade away when your with him, it’s like he’s the cure to your disease.

“Been a while since we last talked—“

“Yeah, I…” You pull back, looking Jayce in the eyes. “I’m sorry. There’s been alot going on.”

His hands come up to your face, gently caressing it. He’s always gentle with you, a contrast from the rough, dangerous streets you grew up in.

“Hey…What’s going on?” His voice is soft and smooth, with the occasional voice crack, it’s not fair. His looks already make him desirable, but hearing him talk to you with that tone? Drooling.

“It’s my siblings, they’ve been getting into more and more trouble.” You fully pull away from him, turning towards the lit up entrance of the alleyway. “It’s like Vi doesn’t even realize how bad things can really get.”

“Hey—“ He takes a step foward, gently grabbing your shoulders and turning you to him. “I’m here. I’m here to help—with anything. We’ll figure this out okay?”

A bittersweet smile graces your lips, you close your hand over his placed on your shoulder.

“You don’t know the Undercity, Jayce. I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help me on this one…”

The two of you stood there, unspeaking. You can practically hear the gears burning inside Jayce’s head. You can almost smell the smoke coming from them, It’s obvious he’s thinking of ways to try and help you and your family. After a moment, you rest your head onto his chest, defeated, and looking for comfort.

“I can’t let you risk you life for this. You have too much ahead of you.”

You feel his arms wrap around you, bringing you closer. He buries his face into your hair, breathing in your scent.

“There is nothing ahead of me without you.” You lock your arms around him, holding back a few tears. Jayce feels you taking fast, deep breaths, attempting to keep your composure. It’s all been alot, apparently your kid siblings were being nosy—blew up some guys apartment. Now every enforcer in Piltover is searching for them. You take a deep breath, leaning up straight to face him again.

“I won’t let you risk your life for me…risk your future—”

“I’m not some idiot throwing himself into danger for fun! I’m protecting someone I love.”

That. That catches you off guard. Yes, you two have been messing around every other night, cuddling after, speaking soft sweet words to each other…but love? He didn’t really love you did he? You’re from the Undercity. The scum of the scum. He’s from the top, he’s perfect. No way he actually means this…does he?

“I’m choosing to do this because I care about you, I care about your family. You aren’t alone in this, no matter how much you think you are.”

Time stops for what feels like hours, you gaze into his eyes, trying to find some kind of sign to tell you he isn’t being true. You can’t. His caramel eyes look gold from the street lights, determined and dead set on aiding you. You let your head fall onto his chest again, giving him your unspoken permission to help with your situation.

“I just realized I didn’t ask about how you’ve been.”

His arms tighten around your body, gently rocking you both back and forth. “Ha…” Jayce lets out a breathy chuckle, preparing himself to recount the most recent and life changing events. “It’s been different…Some guys blew up my apartment.”

You freeze. There’s no way they did that. It can’t be the same apartment right? How many apartments blow up in Piltover? Oh my god. My siblings blew up his fucking apartment. “Uh…” You can’t even form a sentence, still shocked at the new information. What are you going to tell him—

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah—are you okay? You’re fucking apartment blew up!” You pull back from him, facing him again. Your hands find their place on his waist, trying to ground yourself after what you were just told.

“My back’s still a little sore but I’m fine.”

“How much did you lose?” His mood darkened, eyes darting to the ground. “Alot.” You take a deep breath, This shouldn’t have happened. He is a good man, maybe a little crazy sometimes but—good. This whole thing is a mess. Jayce doesn’t know your sisters are the ones who blew up his apartment, you can’t go and get onto them for this because they don’t know you’re with him. You’re stuck, with no one to go to, maybe Vander but…he’d get upset that you’re up here with a topsider. Just so happens, he’s the same topsider your sisters were targeting.

This is fucking stupid.

After giving him your apologies, you realize it’s getting light. You should start heading back home, hopefully without Vander noticing you were gone.

“Jayce, It’s getting early. I gotta start heading back…”

“So soon..?” He smiles, he’s clearly up to something as he brings his hands up to your jaw. The sun is slowly rising, changing the sky into beautiful hues of orange and blue.

“Have to get back before Vander wakes up, I do not wanna hear that lecture.”

“Do you have to? Maybe you could…stay with me?”

“Stay…Topside. With you.”

“Yeah, I mean we could spend the day together. Go and do something…” He takes your hands into his own, engulfing them. You take a moment to think about his request. It’d be fun spending time with him, you’d be able to really enjoy his company. Not waiting for something or someone to come out of the shadows, trying to rob you or worse.

“Okay…What did you have in mind?” A smug look slowly plagues his face as he takes your hands into his, leading you out of the alley and in the direction of his temporary home.

“Trust me?”

You grip his hands tighter, letting him lure you into whatever devious plan he’s set up.

“Maybe…”

Two shadows danced against the stone road, slowly disappearing as the sun rose higher into the sky. One by one, doors open, carriages roll by, and the occasional stray kid runs in front of you two. None of that matters, not when his callused, warm hands are handling you so gently. When he looks at you like you’re his world…like he can’t live without you.

It definitely doesn’t matter when he pulls you into his hotel, hands roaming each others clothed figures as he closes the door behind you.

Guys…Part 2?? What y’all think 😈

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐩 ! ♡. | xiao, kaveh, gorou, lyney, wriothesley x gn!reader

⤷ art by @/grimruu on twitter... i added the boops :> .. fluff, established relationship. dw its an actual fic ( just trsut me )

" boop ! "

— 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

he's startled, that's something certain. xiao's not used to random actions like this; shouldn't one move with purpose...?

blinking at you, his round eyes are more so filled with surprise than disdain. "what... what did you just-" yet... well, you've just tapped your finger to his nose, and now you're grinning like an idiot... truly, the hearts of mortals were something he'd never quite understand.

"it's fun!" yet again, you move forwards, and while xiao is expecting another "boop" from your finger, he's caught off guard when you give him a small kiss on the nose instead.

"boop."

xiao's voice is uncharacteristically faint, quiet. "ah..."

he hides his face behind a hand, trying to evade his clear embarrassment before it catches your eyes. "you're so... stupid."

... and you'd almost believe it, if it weren't for the evident flush dusted across the tips of his ears.

" boop ! "

— 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

he's well into his third drink by the time you boop his nose, and it takes him another few seconds and a lethargic blink or two before he even registers the action.

when he does, a silly smile spreads across his face, his already drunkenly flushed cheeks warming further. "booop?" the word slurs together, and a slow finger moves to boop you on your nose as well.

too bad, it misses the mark, and he ends up poking your upper lip, frowning when he does so. "ah, oops... lemme try again..." this time, he manages to find your nose. a smugly proud smile appears on his features thanks to the success.

god, he was so pathetic. you loved him for it.

cupping his cheek, you sneakily lean forward and press a kiss to his nose. his skin is warm to the touch. "boop." before he can strike back, you hit him with a double combo, this time kissing him on the lips.

"whuh.. no fair," his eyebrows furrow as he pouts childishly. "i wan..na... too..."

he falls asleep before he can finish his sentence, slumping onto the table and conking out immediately. as expected. you tuck his messy hair behind his ear with a fond smile. he'd have a hell of a headache in the morning. ah, but... tolerating his whines would be worth it — you'd gotten to kiss him, after all.

... his lips tasted like wine.

" boop ! "

— 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐔

he jolts like he's been shocked, and you have to suppress a laugh at the sight. "e-eh, what was-?" one of his ears twitches subconsciously, and you can tell he's trying to maintain eye contact to the best of his abilities. hey, it wasn't everyday your lover swung by camp just to tap you on the nose... were you teasing him??

"it's a boop." you state it, matter-of-fact, and gorou only grows more helplessly confused. "boop." just like that, you poke him again. his eyes widen in realization (though he's far off the mark). agh, could it be that more rumors had spread of his "good luck", except this time, instead of rubbing his ears for good fortune, it's tapping his nose instead..?

you watch his eyes swirl with perplexion — really, what was the point in watching those highly-acclaimed entertainment films from fontaine when an entire life's worth of entertainment was right in front of you? "c'mon, don't tell me you've fallen for it too?"

...what was he even talking about? no matter, it was cute seeing him panic (though he'd disagree). you smile at him cheekily, "fallen? why, gorou, the only thing i've fallen for is you ~"

silence.

then the sound of someone choking. gorou upright sputters, his face hopelessly red, before springing forward and getting his revenge; that is, kissing you on the tip of your nose, too embarrassed to keep his eyes open while doing so.

"ugh, you're such a tease..."

... how could you not be, when he was so adorable?

" boop ! "

— 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘

he smiles, his eyes twinkling as they become upturned crescents. "oh? a tap to the nose..." he seems oddly delighted in the action, and perks up not long after, with a strange, mischievous shine in his eyes.

he shuffles through his signature deck of cards with a grin. "love, why don't you pick a card? any card from the deck, whichever one you want~"

you eye him suspiciously.

he has the demeanor of a cunning cat, one that if you turn your gaze away from for a mere second, is sure to cause trouble. well... he was your lover, so you should have some faith in him. drawing a card from the ones he's presented in his hands, you receive the two of hearts.

before you can even properly glance up from your cards, you're met with a faceful of brilliant red roses, each delicate petal perfectly curving in place and green, glistening leaves healthy and lush. lyney's the one behind it all, a smug smile on his lips, and before you can even open your mouth to speak, he leaps forward and swiftly kisses your nose.

"boop."

and he sticks his tongue out, smoothly tucking a rose (without thorns, mind you) into your hair.

hell, he was so smooth. your brain wasn't even able to register half his actions until half a minute after, and when you did, your face burned.

"haha~ what's wrong, love?"

... this guy was seriously dangerous for your heart.

" boop ! "

— 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

he stares you dead in the eyes, in a sort of, "did you really just do that?" kind of way. it's not that he's disappointed, per say, but more so shocked; even siegewinnie wouldn't dare do such a thing like pokingg the duke's nose, (on second thought, maybe she would)... either way, he sits there in a sort of shell-shocked manner, the cup of tea he had begun to lift to his lips long forgotten. "you..."

"boop." you say it like it's all the explanation he needs. in case he doesn't understand, you'll be so generous as to say it a second time, nodding your head for extra confirmation. "boop."

he lets out a lighthearted sigh, one that makes it easy to tell he's on the edge of releasing a chuckle. crossing his arms over his desk and leaning over it, he grabs your chin with his fingers, gently lifting it to raise your gaze to his level.

"boop." this time, he's the one booping you, and he seems all too amused about it, a sly smile on his lips as he does it moves to do it once more. "boop."

hey, was he copying you-? the thought isn't able to completely form before your brain utterly short circuits; the reason? none other than the duke of the fortress of meropide kissing your nose, of course.

wriothesley's enjoying this way too much... yet he seems so utterly unaffected when he pulls away, settling back into his chair and taking a serene sip of his tea, like he hadn't just committed several war crimes against your heart.

... fuck, if it skipped too many beats, would you die??

(a/n) happy boop- i mean april fools dayyy !! mwah mwah watch me pull some "im quitting" shii next year :>

𝐭 𝐚 𝐠 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭 : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori ...

[bywons]

YOU KEEP ME WARM ｡｡ stealing their hoodie

𝖫𝖠𝖢𝒪𝖭𝖨𝖢───when you are warmer & cuter in his hoodie

𝑜𝑓 ܃ enhypen x f!r O886 𝑤𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 headcannons bf!enha fluff ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 kissing, skinship ｡｡｡ ／ ( 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 ) ｡

૮ ♡◞ �� ა this one was so cute to write. a shorter hc, but i really hope you will like it, mwah baby, have a good day ^^ 💌

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

LEE HEESEUNG gasps as soon as he enters the living room to witness his red hoodie being stolen by his dearest lover, you. he approaches your dozing figure, catching you off guard ad he wraps his arms around you all too sudden, pulling you into a series of kisses on your lips. “caught you red handed, you really thought you could get away with stealing my hoodie?” he murmurs, his voice full of affection. you blink up at him, startled but quickly melting into his embrace. he leans back just enough to meet your eyes, still smiling, “you look way too good in my clothes,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head, “i might just let you keep it.”

PARK JONGSEONG his heart swells with warmth as he watches you, your figure bundled up in his oversized hoodie, the sleeves slightly covering your hands. the winter fair buzzes with life around you, but all he can focus on is how adorable you look, probably so warm in his clothes. “are you comfortable?” he asks, slowly rubbing the small of your back in a soothing manner, guiding you through the crowd. “always, with you,” you smile, giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek which he quickly returns back to your forehead. giggling, he says, “i'm forever glad you're warm enough in my hoodie.”

SIM JAEYUN jake’s eyes light up as soon as he spots you across the street, wearing his favorite black hoodie. his grin widens as he jogs up to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “you really know how to make anything look ten times cuter,” he teases, resting his chin on your shoulder. you giggle, leaning into his embrace as the two of you continue walking down the city street, hand in hand. “is it comfy?” Jake asks, giving your hand a little squeeze. “super comfy,” you reply, glancing at him with a playful smile. “i might never give it back.” jake chuckles softly, stopping in his tracks to press a quick kiss to your temple. “that's fine by me,” he murmurs, his voice warm with affection. “but don’t blame me if I steal it back when you’re not looking.” his eyes twinkle with mischief as you both continue your stroll.

PARK SUNGHOON freezes at the mesmerizing sight in the kitchen. his blue hoodie, loosely hugging your busy frame, making black coffee on the marble counter. you don't notice him at first, but when you do your heart skips a beat, as sunghoon slips his strong arms around around waist from the back, resting his chin on your shoulder. “hey, that’s mine,” sunghoon sighs, trying to keep his voice steady, though the soft blush on his cheeks betrays him. you turn, smiling, “you’re right, but i think it looks better on me.” he finally gives in to your antics, and giggled in response, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “i can't lie, you look better in this.”

KIM SUNOO lets out an excited squeal the moment he sees you step out of your room wearing his pink hoodie. “oh my gosh, look at you!” he exclaims, rushing over to wrap you in a hug. you giggle, surprised by his reaction. “you’re the one who left it lying around,” you tease, but sunoo is too busy admiring how cute you look. “you’re literally the most adorable thing ever,” he says, his eyes shining with affection. he twirls you around, his smile never faltering. “you’re keeping that,” he says, not even giving you a chance to argue. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then adds with a playful grin, “we can even match next time.”

YANG JUNGWON spots you sitting by the window, wrapped in his gray hoodie, watching the rain pour down outside. he leans against the doorframe for a moment, just taking in how peaceful you look, the hoodie a bit too big on you but somehow perfect at the same time. “you look cozy,” jungwon sings, breaking the silence as he walks over. you turn, smiling as he sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “i am, don't wanna take it off,” you reply, pulling the hoodie tighter around yourself. jungwon chuckles softly, reaching over to pull the hood over your head. “you’re adorable,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. you sigh, resting your head on his shoulder as the rain continues to fall. “guess this hoodie’s mine now,” you tease, and jungwon just grins, wrapping an arm around you. “only if i get to share it with you.”

NISHIMURA RIKI walks into the game room to find you sitting in front of the TV, wearing his favorite hoodie. his eyes widens in surprise before a mischievous smile creeps onto his face. “hey, that’s my hoodie!” he says, dramatically pointing at you. you look over your shoulder, smirking, “not anymore.” riki laughs, walking over and sitting beside you. “well, you look way cooler in it than i ever did,” he admits, leaning back and resting his arm around your shoulders. you grin, leaning into him as you focus on the game. “it’s super comfy,” you say. he nods, pulling you closer. “i'm not even mad. but you owe me a game,” he teases, kissing the top of your head.

© bywons, 2024. do not copy / translate / upload on any other platform without my permission.

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[ivyues]

Future Hyung-in-Law | 3 | - Seungmin

Seungmin x Lee Know's sister

As your relationship with Seungmin blossoms, your brother begrudgingly comes to accept it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

It’s late, the room softly lit by the warm glow of a bedside lamp. You’re lying on your side, facing Seungmin, who’s stretched out beside you. The blanket is pulled up to your waists, and you can feel the comforting heat of his body close to yours. There’s a mix of quiet and unspoken melancholy in the air, though you both try to ignore it for now.

Seungmin is about to go on tour, and it's clear from the way he keeps glancing at his phone that he’s still trying to adjust to the reality of the upcoming months apart. His hand absentmindedly plays with your fingers, his touch gentle as if memorizing every curve and line.

“You know,” he starts, his voice low and steady, “I don’t think I’ve fully wrapped my head around the fact that I won’t see my girlfriend for months.”

You glance at him, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “Your what?” 

He blinks at you, caught off guard. “My girlfriend?” he repeats, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

“You know,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbow, “it’s funny how you skipped an important step there. I don’t recall anyone officially asking me to be their girlfriend.”

Seungmin’s ears turn pink as he sits up a little, caught. “Wait, what do you mean? I—” 

You cut him off with a laugh, “You asked my brother for my hand, remember? Which, first of all, is very outdated of you. But you never actually asked me.”

A sheepish smile spreads across his face. “That’s not fair. I didn’t think you’d care about the formality. I thought it was obvious by… everything we’ve been doing.” 

“Oh, it was obvious,” you say, pretending to sound unimpressed. “But still, kind of bold of you to think you could just skip that part.” 

He groans, flopping back onto the pillow dramatically. “Fine. I’ll do it right now, then.”

You burst out laughing and swat his arm playfully. “Don’t be so lame, Seungmin. The moment’s already passed.” 

He catches your hand before you can pull it away, turning serious for just a moment. “Well, I don’t care if it’s lame. I want you to know how much you mean to me before I go.” His voice softens, and his thumb brushes over your knuckles. “I didn’t mean to skip anything, but I also don’t need to ask you for something we both already know.”

Your teasing falters as the sincerity of his words sinks in. You tuck yourself closer to him, burying your face in his chest to hide the smile you can’t seem to suppress. “Fine, fine,” you mumble into his shirt. “I guess I’ll let it slide this time.”

His laugh rumbles in his chest as he hugs you tighter. “Guess that means you really are my girlfriend then.”

“Guess so,” you reply softly, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, savoring the last quiet moments before the distance comes between you.

As you settle back, Seungmin shifts slightly, looking down at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "By the way," he starts, his tone teasing, "don't even think about stealing one of my hoodies before I leave."  

You blink at him, feigning innocence. "Who said I was going to steal one?"  

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Oh, come on. You’ve been eyeing my navy hoodie all night like it’s already yours."  

You pout, trying to look affronted. "I was not! And besides, it’s only fair – boyfriends are supposed to let their girlfriends steal hoodies. It’s like an unwritten rule."  

Seungmin smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. "First of all, you’re not stealing it. Borrowing maybe, but stealing? No way. Second, I’m leaving for months. If I give it to you, what am I supposed to wear when I miss you?”  

The softness in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re tempted to let it go. But the teasing glint in his eyes tells you he’s messing with you.  

You sit up, grabbing his arm and leaning closer. “Okay, let’s compromise. You keep the navy one, and I get the grey one. That way, we both have something.”  

He looks at you like he’s pretending to think it over. “Hmm. Tempting. But what’s stopping you from stealing both before I even leave?”  

“Nothing,” you admit with a mischievous grin.  

Seungmin sighs dramatically, leaning back into the pillows. “You’re impossible.”  

“And yet, you’re dating me,” you reply, already plotting your hoodie heist.  

“Unfortunately,” he mutters, though the way he pulls you closer betrays how much he doesn’t mean it. Later, when you do end up “borrowing” the grey hoodie, Seungmin only shakes his head, a fond smile playing at his lips.

-----

The tour bus hums softly as the members settle into their routines. Seungmin is tucked into a corner, his phone propped up against his knee. He’s quietly face-timing you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he listens to you talk. Every so often, he chuckles or murmurs a reply, his voice warm and gentle.

Across the bus, Lee Know watches with narrowed eyes. He’s not annoyed – more amused – but there’s a hint of exasperation as Seungmin’s fingers hover over his screen, typing furiously the second the call ends.

“Is he always like this now?” Lee Know mutters under his breath.

Changbin, who’s been lounging beside him, follows Lee Know’s gaze and grins. “You mean, texting his girlfriend every five seconds?”

Lee Know scoffs. “Girlfriend. They’re still in that sickening puppy love phase. It’s all cute and cuddly now, but I’m dreading the day they have their first fight.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because,” Lee Know says flatly, “I’m going to have to hear all about it. Seungmin will probably vent to me in the most annoyingly cryptic way possible, and then she’ll want to explain her side, and I’ll get dragged into it whether I want to or not.”

Changbin laughs, shaking his head. “You act like you’re some innocent bystander. If you want them to confide in you, maybe try acting a little less like... that.”

Lee Know turns to him, unimpressed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying,” Changbin teases, leaning back with a smug grin, “if you stop acting like a grumpy cat about their relationship, maybe they’ll trust you more when things actually get tough. Right now, you look like you’re plotting a way to sabotage their cute little love story.”

Lee Know rolls his eyes. “I’m not plotting anything.”

“Sure, sure,” Changbin says, patting his shoulder. “Just don’t be surprised when they go to me for advice instead of you. I’ll be the supportive older brother figure, while you sulk in the background.”

Lee Know sighs dramatically but doesn’t argue further, muttering something about how he’s only teasing because he cares. Changbin just grins, already imagining how Lee Know will handle it when the inevitable teasing turns into actual heartfelt support.

-----

After a whirlwind tour, they finally had a few days off to unwind. With the chaos of the road behind them, Lee Know decided it was the perfect time to visit his parents and catch up with his family. Seungmin, on the other hand, was tagging along – not just for the break but to finally introduce himself as your boyfriend and of course to see you again.

The drive was quiet for the first few minutes, but Lee Know couldn't resist breaking the silence with his usual teasing tone.

“So, ready to meet my parents?” Lee Know glanced at Seungmin, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Seungmin shifted in his seat, his hands fidgeting nervously. “I’m not nervous.”

Lee Know shot him a skeptical look. “Uh-huh. Sure you’re not. I saw you turn pale when we passed the exit.”

Seungmin groaned, leaning back in the seat. “I just want it to go well, okay? I’m not just your bandmate anymore, hyung. This is different.”

Lee Know chuckled. “Relax. They already like you. Just don’t start blushing every time they ask you about your relationship with their daughter.”

Seungmin buried his face in his hands for a moment, muttering something incoherent. Lee Know laughed, clearly enjoying himself as the car neared their destination.

The car pulls into the driveway, and Seungmin exhales deeply as they step out. Before he can dwell on his nerves, the front door swings open, and you step outside, beaming.  

Without hesitation, you rush to Seungmin, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffens for a split second, surprised by the public affection, but quickly melts into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you.  

“Missed you,” you whisper, and he smiles softly.  

Lee Know, standing off to the side with his bag, raises an eyebrow. “Wow, okay. Not even an ‘hello’ for me?”  

From the doorway, Lee Know’s mom chimes in, her tone playful but firm. “Minho, don’t tease them. Bring the rest of the bags in before the food gets cold.”  

Lee Know pauses, momentarily taken aback, looking eyes with Seungmin, who was still hugging you, as he heads inside.  

Seungmin suppresses a grin, the earlier tension in his chest easing. If Lee Know’s mom was going to stop her son from teasing, maybe this wouldn’t feel like walking into the lion’s den after all.  

Dinner is lively and filled with warm chatter, your parents asking Seungmin questions that walk the line between teasing and genuinely interested. He answers with his usual charm, and you can tell how much your parents are enjoying this new addition to the family.  

Seungmin sits beside you, his arm occasionally brushing yours. Underneath the table, his fingers subtly graze your hand, and you glance at him with a knowing look. Smiling faintly, he finally lets his fingers slide between yours, holding your hand out of view of the table.  

You bite back a smile, warmth blooming in your chest. Across the table, Lee Know catches the movement. His eyes narrow slightly in mock disapproval as he watches you two, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the moment pass without interruption.  

The conversation flows around you, and you notice Lee Know giving you a slight shake of his head, as if to say, Really? Right here? You respond with an innocent shrug, but his lips twitch into an amused smirk before he looks away. 

Later that evening, the hum of conversation from the living room fades as you wander into the quiet kitchen, spotting Lee Know leaning against the counter with a glass of water in hand. He glances up at you but doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow as if to ask, What now?

You step closer, leaning against the counter opposite him. “Hey,” you start softly, your tone a little hesitant. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Lee Know sips his water, watching you with mild curiosity. “I’ve had too many of those serious talks lately.”

You take a breath. “I just... I know this probably isn’t the situation you imagined or wanted. Honestly, it’s not what I thought would happen either. I didn’t think much of it when Seungmin and I first started texting. It was so casual, you know? No pressure. And maybe—” You pause, meeting his gaze. “Maybe that’s why it worked.”

He studies you for a moment, then shrugs, “I mean, what do you want me to say? It’s fine. Date him. Just leave me out of the details, yeah?” gesturing to where you had been holding hands earlier.

You can’t help but laugh lightly at his bluntness. “Noted. Don’t worry, you won’t be getting any sappy updates from us.”

Lee Know sets his glass down and looks at you with a glimmer of amusement. “Speaking of details I didn’t ask for, Seungmin called me hyung-in-law earlier.”

Your eyes widen for a moment before you smirk. “Well, maybe you brought that upon yourself after all.”

“How exactly?” Lee Know asks, crossing his arms.

You give him a knowing look but don’t answer directly. Instead, as you turn to leave the kitchen, you glance over your shoulder and say with a sly smile, “Thanks for forgetting your bag.”

-----

The teasing rivalry between Seungmin and Lee Know lived on as usual, reasing a peak during a recent group interview. As usual, the questions were light-hearted, but Seungmin’s answers were quick, witty, and sharp, often leaving Lee Know struggling to keep up. Each remark carried just enough bite to be playful without crossing the line, a delicate balance Seungmin seemed to master effortlessly.

Later, during practice, Seungmin’s energy was palpable. He moved through the routines with a focus that caught Lee Know’s attention. He couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that Seungmin was holding something back – something more than just the usual rivalry. It wasn’t defiance, but rather a quiet confidence, as if Seungmin was proving not just his place in the group but that he could meet Lee Know’s gaze as an equal.

At one point, during a break, Seungmin pulled off his hoodie, revealing just the T-shirt underneath. Lee Know, who had been sitting across the room, glanced up at the sound of Seungmin stretching, and that’s when he saw it: a faint mark at the base of Seungmin’s neck, normally hidden by the collar of his shirt. It was barely visible, but the shape and color were unmistakable – a bruise, a love bite, something far more intimate than what he had expected.

Lee Know’s breath caught in his throat as his gaze lingered for just a second too long. He quickly looked away, trying to pretend like he hadn’t seen it, but the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Seungmin and you... were definitely up to more than just hugging and holding hands. The playful rivalry, the extra effort – he understood now. There was something deeper between them.

Later that evening, after practice had ended, Seungmin’s phone buzzed with a message from you. He smiled at the text before sending his reply:

“By the way, you should not mark me if you want a boyfriend who is alive – Just a thought.”

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.4 | pt.5 | masterlist

[shy-writer-999]

are there any character you think would get hot and bothered by a good spar with their s/o? how do you think think they’d act once they get worked up in that manner?

hmmmm... Zoro and Shanks are my answers right off the bat, but I could also imagine this with Ace, Kid, Smoker, and Law (if he felt like humoring someone enough to spar with them). I’ll sketch out some (nsfw) thoughts w/Zoro and Shanks—see below the cut! No anatomy mentioned, but for Shanks’s portion there are pet names, among them, princess. also thanks for putting this in my inbox it was such a treat to think about! (✿˘ω˘)˘ε˘˶ )

Zoro (✿˵ ꒡3꒡˵)

He’s amused that anyone thinks they’d be able to match his speed enough to spar

When you get into it though, he’s surprised because he underestimated you

He didn’t expect you to be as much of a challenge as you are, and your brains work in such different ways that your next move is often unpredictable, haki aside. You keep him on his toes

What starts getting him hot and bothered is seeing you work up a sweat. Your panting and heaving breaths remind him of how you sound in bed, and it starts to make his mind wander. He observes how lithely you parry, how gorgeous you are with a flush over your cheeks

You catch him off guard because his mind is elsewhere, and when he blocks your sword, your faces are inches away from each other

The intense and serious eye contact you hold with him when the sparring sessions get heated starts to get him really worked up

Zoro wants to finish the sparring session, but he wants to fuck you too—he does a mental balancing act about which of these should come first

He blocks one of your lunges so forcefully that your sword goes flying, and then he chucks his off to the side and basically pounces on you (you saw that coming a mile away); he’d want to make out and get handsy, then he’d pick you up and fuck you senseless

Zoro is partial to grunting and groaning out whatever comes to mind when he’s buried deep inside, along the lines of “it's so fuckin’ hot when you fight me," "you're so pretty when you're violent, I might just let you land a blow next time," and “I wanted to fuck you the whole time”, etc.

Shanks (´ ᴗ｀✿)

Shanks loooveeessss any chance he can get to spar with you

Seeing how good you are at it turns him on

He just loves someone who is good at what they do and who throws themselves into it passionately

When you spar, you’re both having a great time—you exchange banter, smiles, cheeky side-eyes, and some mild trash talking

Even with the banter, he’ll sweet talk you the whole time

His hair looks so good as he dodges and parries your advances. He’ll push his hair back from his face with one hand as he effortlessly dodges your blows

When you almost get him, he says something like “What, can’t you try any harder than that, angel?” or “almost had me that time, princess”

Shanks pays special attention to how your eyes flutter, how you’re perspiring, how your chest moves up and down with each breath—he admires your beauty and gets so distracted that you actually manage to pin him. Your sword is at his throat, and he breaks out into a grin. He'd say something like "you look even more gorgeous than usual holding a sword at my throat, baby" or "shit, sweetheart, be careful where you put that thing”

When you’re both tuckered out and sheathe your swords, he’ll pull you tight by your waist unexpectedly, or he’ll grab a handful of your ass as you walk away.

“Done already, sugar? Don’t you want to continue our session inside?”

He’ll pull you into sloppy kisses and when he’s feeling spicy, he’ll either carry you off to the shower or just fuck you right there on the spot. While his cock is in you, he'd call you sweet names and praise you. He'd be a fan of telling you that he's "never seen someone so gorgeous wield a sword" and that "you got me so worked up, it's only fair that I return the favor"

[punkshort]

Hi again !! I wanted to know if one day you could write a one-shot based off of this prompt:

“But I wanted to do that with you! You could have asked me!"

I tried to do something with this myself but failed miserably 😭

This is my current oldest request, apologies for taking so long to get through these. Okay here goes nothing:

Five Senses

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You catch Joel sneaking off to do something in the middle of the night and curiosity gets the best of you.

Warnings: language, m!masturbation, smut (18+ MDNI), some descriptions of violence and gore, angst, yearning

WC: idk I wrote it on my phone - maybe 2K?

The fire was out by the time you woke. Was it time for your turn on watch? It had to have been. So why didn't Joel wake you?

Slowly, you rolled onto your back and looked around, your eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. The woods were quiet. Not a single twig snapped, no leaves rustled nor bird sang. Even the wind was still. The loudest thing was your heavy breathing and your heart beating in your ears.

Where was he?

Panic gripped you then. Did something happen? He never strayed too far out, especially when the weather was fair. It brought out infected, easily the biggest downfall of living in the wilderness during summer.

"Joel?" you whispered into the dark abyss, sitting up in your sleeping bag in the process. You strained your ears, flared your nostrils, using all your available senses when sight was questionable, just like he taught you that first week after you ran into each other. It was years ago, now, but you remembered it like it was yesterday.

He saved you. He didn't know who you were, he didn't have to answer your screams of terror, but he did. Just when your arms were growing weak from holding the infected above you, it's snapping jaw so close you had to push back into the dirt to keep it from grazing you, there was a loud explosion. Then you were covered in wet, dead brains and pieces of bone, but you were alive.

He hauled the carcass off you and you furiously began to wipe the carnage from your face, worried it would still somehow get into your bloodstream.

"Here," he had said, handing you a used blue washcloth. You snatched it and whispered your gratitude, wiping off your face more throughly so you could stand and get a good look at your savior.

At the time, you chalked it up to adrenaline, but you felt like you fell in love the moment you first locked eyes. Those deep, beautiful brown eyes that could look right through you, that gazed at you with so much concern when he patched you up after scuffles with raiders, that glared at you when you fucked up and almost gave away your position, that squinted when he laughed at something you said over the fire.

It took a few weeks, maybe a month, but you eventually determined adrenaline wasn't to blame. You were hopelessly in love with Joel Miller, and you never once had the courage to tell him. Never once tried to kiss him, tried to do anything except stare at him when his back was turned, allowing your eyes to greedily take in his broad shoulders and thick, curly, tuggable hair.

He never looked at you like that. God, you wished he would, but he was far too focused. His only concern was survival. Sometimes you wondered how he was able to function properly on so little sleep. Sleep was his only luxury, and he rarely allowed himself to relish in it. It didn't matter how many times you told him you could keep watch the whole night, or on the rare occasions he found you a cabin or shed, he refused to let his guard down.

So where was he now?

Slowly, you stood, your right hand brushing against your handgun which was tucked into your leg holster. You took a steadying breath, trying to quiet yourself so you could listen to your surroundings. Pay attention, stay alert, step lightly.

That was when you first heard it. Panting, or gasping, somewhere to your right. Oh, god, what if he was hurt? What if something happened and you were sleeping, leaving him to bleed out, or worse?

You pulled out your gun and gripped it with both hands, aiming it at the ground as you quickly made your way towards the noise, your heart slamming against your ribs, fear squeezing your throat, but you stayed focused. You had to. For him.

But as you got closer, when it sounded like he was just on the other side of a thick tree trunk, you realized you were very wrong. Your feet became rooted to the ground as you listened to the unmistakable sound of skin against skin, of fabric rustling rhythmically together, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt your cunt throb when you heard his soft groans and you knew you should have left, you should have given him privacy, but you didn't. You couldn't. You ached for him for so long and not one time had you ever seen this side to him. He never so much as flirted with you, even just innocently, so you weren't willing to let this moment pass you by.

The clouds finally parted and the moon shined down, trickling through the thick forest. Opening your eyes, you could now see his shadow reflecting on the forest floor. You could see how fast his fist worked himself over, you could hear how eager he was for release, you could practically smell his sweat from where you were standing.

But then something happened.

He groaned again, but that time he groaned your name.

You were certain of it, unless you were in a dream and your mind was playing tricks on you.

He groaned your name.

Before common decency had a chance to catch up, you spoke, interrupting him.

"Joel?"

The sounds ceased. It was deathly quiet, and you feared you made a huge mistake. What were you thinking?

He said your name again, but it was a question. No breathy moans slipped from his mouth this time.

"What's wrong?"

He came around the tree appearing put together, and if it weren't for the flush in his cheeks and the tightness of his jeans, you might have convinced yourself it was all a mirage.

"Nothing. W-what are you doing?"

His eyes flickered around in shame, looking everywhere but at you.

"What did you hear?" he finally asked softly.

"I heard enough."

He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

"Listen-" he began, but you cut him off.

"I wanted to do that with you. You could have asked me."

His eyes popped back open in shock and it felt like time stood still. Oh, fucking hell, what were you doing?!

"What?"

Well, there was no going back now. You reholstered your gun and took a tentative step forward.

"You said my name," you told him, voice barely above a whisper. You could see him swallow as you inched closer.

"I did."

"Were you thinking... of me?" you squeaked. Slowly, he nodded, and that time if he felt any shame, he didn't show it. "I think about you, too," you confessed, taking another step closer.

"You do?"

You nodded, biting your lower lip nervously as you continued to advance. "All the time."

"Fuck," he groaned, then quickly closed the remaining distance between you. He grabbed your face with both hands, cupping your jaw, and smashed his mouth hungrily against yours.

When he swiped his tongue across your lower lip, you could have melted into the ground right then and there. Was this really happening?

His tongue slid past your lips, exploring your mouth with his jaw pried open as if he were trying to swallow you whole. And you would let him, if that's what he wanted. You trusted him with your life, you craved his touch, dreamt about the taste of his lips, and fantasized about what he would do to quell the constant ache between your legs.

Joel walked you backwards, back towards camp. Your eyes were closed and you refused to remove yourself from his mouth, so you relied on your ears and feet to guide you through sound and touch, but you knew it didn't matter. Joel had you, and he never let anything bad happen. He wouldn't allow it.

He eased you down onto his sleeping bag before he finally broke the kiss, both your chests heaving from the effort to drag in much needed air as you each worked on removing your clothes as quickly as possible. You knew Joel so well by now that he wouldn't want you to be too exposed, just in case, so you only focused on your lower half, and he did the same.

"Are you sure?" he asked when he was kneeling between your legs, poised to enter you. You spread your legs wider and nodded. You wanted to tell him you'd been waiting for so long, that you couldn't stand another second without him, but when you felt that delicious sting between your legs when he first pressed forward, your mind went blank.

"So tight," he gritted out, fingers digging mercilessly into your hips, no doubt leaving circular bruises you would cherish for days.

You cried out his name when he finally fully sheathed himself inside you, only to have him clamp his palm over your mouth.

"Gotta be quiet," he reminded you, but his voice was tender and his breath was ragged and you had a feeling his warning was for you both.

When you nodded, he slid his hand away and groaned quietly as he shifted his weight slightly on top of you before slowly pulling almost all the way out. His eyes flicked up to meet yours so he could watch your face contort when he slammed back in, something animalistic coming alive inside him at the way your back arched and your jaw hung open, a silent scream on your lips every time he rolled his hips and stretched you open, molding you to him.

Your senses came alive as he fucked steadily into you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every forceful thrust. Every grunt sounded like a melody, every greedy stroke of his fingers left a firey trail. When he could tell you were both getting close, his mouth crashed over yours again and you tasted the metallic flavor of his blood from where he had bit down too hard on his lip.

"I'm gonna find someplace for us," he whispered, voice trembling from the way your walls squeezed around him. "Someplace we can live. Someplace safe."

You nodded your head deliriously, too focused on the steady rise of your orgasm, your stomach tensing each time his cock brushed up against one particular spot that made it difficult to breathe.

"Then you can be as loud as you want," he continued, mouth dipping to bite and suck on your neck. Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his flannel, the worn material begging to be torn under your grip. "Just me and you. I'll take care of you. Won't let anythin' bad happen."

You nodded again, tears pricking your eyes.

"Would you like that?" he asked, his words muffled by your skin as he continued to lick and kiss and suck on the column of your throat, leaving more marks to serve as a reminder that night happened, that what you had was real.

"Yes," you moaned, "oh, god, yes, Joel, it's all I've ever wanted."

You thought you heard him whimper but then his hips began to snap roughly against you, sending shockwaves through your body with each devastating stroke.

"Joel, I think I'm gonna-" you gasped and cut yourself off, your vision blurring for a moment before his hand pressed firmly over your mouth once again, capturing your cries while your body tensed and slowly began to relax underneath him. Not until your eyes reopened did he remove his hand to be replaced with his mouth. You bent your legs so your knees were pressed against the sides of his ribs, holding him close, your tongue licking feverishly behind his teeth.

At the last moment, he yanked his hips back and spilled his seed all over the inside of your thighs, keeping his mouth pressed firmly against yours until he was done painting your skin milky white.

"All this time?" he panted, gazing down at you while you both took a few moments to recover. "All these years?"

You nodded and brushed some of his hair away from his sweaty forehead. "From the first day."

His eyes slid closed in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me? We wasted so much time."

You smiled and sighed, breathing in the cool night air. It was going to rain soon, you could smell it.

"All we have is time."

[dioslesbianwife]

hiii can you do phantom troupe surprise kiss headcanons? pleasee include phinks hes my favvv (if u want to ofc!)

Absolutely!! I love hxh and the phantom  troupe, phinks is def one of my top faves too- Thanks for requesting and hope you enjoy, here are the headcannons!

Phantom troupe surprise kiss headcannons :3

Chrollo

Chrollo is composed, calculated, and difficult to catch off guard. So when you surprise him with a kiss, his eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t visibly react much more than that.

"Bold," he says softly, clearly amused. He leans back in for a slower, more deliberate kiss, just to send a little message that he’s always in control, even when caught off guard.

Inwardly, though, he’s interested by your daring nature.

Feitan

Feitan freezes, stunned. His face turns slightly red despite his usual stoicism.

He glares at you afterward, but it’s not out of anger, it’s embarrassment. "Stupid... warning… would be nice."

Despite his flustered demeanor, he doesn't pull away. Instead, he grabs your hand roughly, keeping you close as if daring you to do it again.

Machi

Machi raises an eyebrow, her stoic expression faltering for just a second. "What was that for?" she asks, pretending not to care.

Her heart races, though she'd never admit it. If you catch her off guard, she silently admires your guts.

If she likes you, she might grab your shirt and pull you in for a second, lingering kiss, just to make sure she wins this little game of surprise.

Nobunaga

Nobunaga blinks in confusion and shock before grinning. "Well!"

He’s not one to back down, so he swoops you up and kisses you right back.

"Gutsy move. I like that."

Shalnark

Shalnark’s eyes go wide for a moment, but then he breaks into a playful laugh. "Wow, I didn’t see that coming!"

He teases you relentlessly afterward, calling you "dangerous" for being able to catch him off guard.

But you notice that there’s a bit of genuine affection in his eyes.

Phinks

Phinks is surprised, but he quickly recovers with a smug grin. "Heh, couldn’t resist, huh?"

He tries to act cocky, but the redness creeping up his neck gives him away.

"Guess it’s only fair I return the favor." He plants a rough but affectionate kiss on you.

Franklin

Franklin blinks, clearly taken aback but pleasantly surprised. "Wasn’t expecting that."

His large hand cups the back of your head as he returns the kiss, slow and steady.

"Thanks," he says with a soft chuckle, genuinely touched by the gesture.

Pakunoda

Pakunoda’s eyebrow raises before she tilts her head and gives you a small and knowing smile. "Bold move."

She’s graceful and confident, so she pulls you in for a more sensual, lingering kiss.

"I’ll take surprises when they come from you."

Uvogin

Uvogin laughs loudly, clearly amused. "Damn, you’ve got guts!"

He sweeps you up effortlessly and kisses you passionately, making it impossible for you to catch your breath.

"Next time, give me a headsup so I can beat you to it."

Bonolenov

Bonolenov is usually quiet and reserved, so when you surprise him with a kiss, he blinks in shock but doesn’t pull away.

He studies you carefully before a rare, small smile appears from underneath the bandages. "Unexpected... but not unwelcome."

He might brush his knuckles gently against your cheek afterward.

Kortopi

Kortopi is shy and introverted, so he freezes completely when you kiss him.

His face flushes, and he mutters something unintelligible.

Though he doesn’t know how to react, he remembers the moment fondly and becomes noticeably less shy around you afterward.

Shizuku

Shizuku is completely unfazed when you surprise her with a kiss. She blinks a few times, tilting her head in confusion. "Why’d you do that?" she asks in her usual deadpan tone.

However, she doesn't dislike it- it’s the opposite. She just doesn’t process romantic gestures quickly.

"Oh... I guess I liked it," she eventually admits with a casual shrug. Afterward, she might surprise you right back with an unannounced kiss when you least expect it.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 13] Payback

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Shiu x Reader, Smut, Handjob

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji takes you out to dinner, bringing Megumi along so it’s not seen as a date. He takes you to one of your favorite places to eat, and you’re sure he has something up his sleeve. What can Toji possibly do this time around? You try not to think too much as to what Toji can possibly do since you are eating something you like, and something your baby seems to enjoy.

You’re mostly talking with Megumi, completely forgetting about Toji’s existence while the two of you talk. Occasionally Toji chimes in with something stupid, it does earn a chuckle from you each and every time though. You eat in peace, and you almost feel like a family.

“We have to talk about something.” Toji ruins your peaceful moment after you order dessert. Your eyebrows perk up, and you wait for him to speak up. What does Toji need now? He’s not going to beg when his son is right there.

“What is it?” You ask him, not being patient enough to wait for him to spit it out. Megumi adverts his gaze, too embarrassed to look at his father.

“I’m seeing someone.” Toji reveals, and your eyes grow wide. The same man that was begging you to get back together not even a week ago is telling you that he’s seeing someone. It’s fair to say that you’re speechless with the announcement. You have no idea what one says with this type of announcement.

“That’s good…” You try to remain stoic with the news. He wants a reaction from you, and you’ll make sure not to give it to him. You have a lot of questions, but maybe it’s best if you keep them to yourself– Maybe ask Shiu or even Megumi. 

“Don’t you have any questions?” Toji asks, and to his disappointment, you shake your head. Megumi still isn’t looking at his dad, and Toji sighs defeatedly. “I have to use the bathroom, I’ll be back.”

“He isn’t seeing anyone.” Megumi quickly reveals when Toji gets up and leaves to use the bathroom. You furrow your brows, knowing that a teenager is involved in his father’s affairs. You can’t help but roll your eyes, knowing that Toji just can’t help but share everything with the world, “There’s a woman that visits him and does like him a lot but he’s not into her. They went on a date… But he’s just doing this to make you jealous.”

“I figured as much.” You chuckle. It does make you feel better, but it also upsets you. He goes through great lengths to make your life more difficult. You click your tongue before saying, “Your dad’s a dumbass.”

“Tell me about it.” Megumi responds, and you two change the topic into something more lighthearted. The conversation dies when Toji comes back from the bathroom, but luckily for you, dessert gets to the table.

You dive right into the sweet treat, noticing how neither of them grab their spoons and begin to eat. You knew they would agree to order dessert but proceed to not eat any of it. They’ll just say anything to please you.

“Do you want to come over and watch a movie?” Toji asks, catching you off guard. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the audacity. First, he says that he’s seeing someone, then he proceeds to invite you back to his place; you know better than anyone that Toji doesn’t mean anything platonic when he invites you back to his home.

“I can’t.” You proceed to put your hand on your bump. “Baby makes me sleepy and I’d rather not fall asleep on your couch.”

“I’ll carry you to our bed.” Toji says, and you bite your tongue. You shake your head disappointedly.

“Aren’t you seeing someone, Toji?” You point out, and he remains unphased. He’s seeing someone but he couldn’t make it clear that he doesn’t respect them enough. Right then and there, the best idea comes to your mind, and you blurt out, “Plus, Shiu wouldn’t be okay with it.”

“What does that idiot have to do with anything?” Toji quickly asks, wondering why you're bringing his best friend into this. 

“You’re not the only one seeing someone else.” You lie to him, and you know that it’ll cause some issues for Shiu but right now the look on Toji's face is priceless. He’s gone completely white, completely speechless.

“What do you mean?” Toji tries to see if his ears deceive him. But your next words reaffirm what he just heard,

“I’m seeing Shiu.” 

“You..” He begins but for some reason he can’t finish his sentence. Toji Fushiguro, who is never at a loss for words, can’t speak. “You’re seeing my best friend? Romantically?”

“Yes.” You nod in response, and the man has to take a sip of his water to calm himself down. He’s a little too young to have a heart attack, no? Why is his heart beating so fast?

“Megumi, keep an ambulance on standby. I’m going to be sick.” Toji says, putting his hand over his chest, and Megumi rolls his eyes at how dramatic his father is.

“You’re so dramatic.” Megumi mutters, crossing his arms. “I thought you were seeing someone too?”

“She’s seeing my best friend!” Toji yells, and you take a deep breath. All eyes are on you. He’s so dramatic over nothing.

“You kept sending him over, what else did you expect?” You ask him, adding fuel to the fire. You don’t want to sit by and watch Toji act as if he’s a victim. “I’m not really in the mood tonight, Toji. If you need anything, text me.” 

“Wait!” He yells, but his plea falls on deaf ears.

An hour after you get home, there’s a knock on your door. Your mind immediately goes to Toji, and you’re about to ignore it since you’re not really in the mood for talking. But after thinking it over, and as the knocking becomes more desperate, you realize that Toji wouldn’t be at your door yet.

“Shiu… He told you.” Are the first words to leave your mouth as you open the door. He doesn’t look as mad as you expected him to be… Matter of fact, he looks amused. “Sorry, he just said something and I wanted to piss him off.”

“I’m not mad. Well, maybe a bit.” He licks his lips. You’re trying to read his expression, trying to decipher what he’s feeling. Shiu is just like Toji, hard for you to read. But you luckily got to know Toji enough to be able to read him like the palm of your hand; Shiu, on the other hand, is still foreign to you.

“Why?” You ask him, moving aside to let him into the place. He takes the hint, stepping inside the apartment. He takes off his shoes and loosens the tie that’s around his neck before making himself comfortable on your couch.

“You got me in trouble with Toji and I didn’t get anything in return.” He says, and you can’t help but smirk. You walk over to him, sitting down beside him.

“What do you want in return then? I’m at your service.” You look mischievous, and he’s about to match your energy. You’re moving closer to him, and he doesn’t even try to move away.

“A nice candle lit dinner will do.” He answers, though it’s not what you have in mind. And you know that it isn’t what he has in mind either. You move closer until you’re practically breathing down his neck. He knows that whatever you’re going to do, you’ll do it with the sole purpose of getting back at Toji. 

“How about I give you something else?” You whisper into his ear and a chill runs down his spine. He bites down his lips before nodding in response. He doesn’t care that this will have consequences. He can’t just tell Toji that you were lying because it did happen.

Your lips lightly press against his, quickly pulling away before you ask him, “Do you want this? I can stop.”

“I want it.” He confirms, your lips going back on his but not pulling away. Your tongue swipes over his bottom lip, before his mouth parts. Your tongue enters his mouth, quickly pressing against his own tongue, while your hand caresses his thigh.

All of Shiu’s blood rushes to his dick, and he could moan even if you’re not doing anything yet. Since the moment he laid eyes on you, Shiu has wanted to do this. He’s been waiting an eternity to feel your lips on his, and he can’t control himself when he finally feels you.

His hand goes to the back of your head, pulling you closer as his tongue takes control. Your hand goes to unbuckle his belt, struggling since you only use one hand. He helps you out, in a rush to feel your hands on him.

“Are you sure?” You pull away from the kiss to ask him. He feels your hand play with the waistband of his briefs. He wants to scream yes into the air, over and over again. He’s never wanted something more. “I don’t want to ruin your friendship with Toji.”

“You already did.” He chuckles before his lips land on yours again. Your hand goes into his briefs, your thumb circling over the tip of his cock before your hand moves down to the base. You begin to lazily stroking his cock, and the man moans into the kiss even when you’ve yet to do much. 

You pull away from the kiss, taking your hand out and spitting on it before going back to pumping his cock. You peck his lips, before kissing his cheek and making your way to his ear. Your teeth begin to nibble on his earlobe as Shiu throws his head back and moans into the air.

He’s red, already sweating and out of breath with how good you’re making him feel. He shuts his eyes, moaning your name as your hand twists on his dick. It’s just a handjob, nothing that warrants the reaction that he gives you. But he couldn’t care less.

“Fuck– Like that.” He moans as your hand picks up speed. His cheek is pressing against your head, his hand gripping your shirt as he feels his release near. His mind is focused on you, and only you. Lately you’re all that he’s thinking about, and this isn’t going to help him.

Shiu will do just about anything for you.

He’s moaning your name over and over again until a groan leaves his lips, his cum ruining his shirt and coating your hand. He looks at you, eyes filled with lust. He’s in need of more. But just in a brief moment, guilt takes over.

“Do you want more?” You ask him, and he does. But he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be doing this in the first place, he swore to himself he wouldn’t do this to Toji. Moreover, you’re simply doing this to get back at Toji, and it doesn’t feel right.

Shiu was willing to do this no matter what at first, but tonight he doesn’t want to be used. Maybe his feelings for you go deeper than mere lust.

“Maybe another time.” He answers, and you get off him. He stands up and makes his way to your bathroom to fix himself up. 

“Will this make up for the candle lit dinner or do you want something else?!” You shout, while you look for some tissues to clean yourself up as well. 

“We’re even!” He yells back, and you’re fighting back a smirk, biting on the inside of your cheek. You know that he’s going to want more even though he claims you’re even.

You just have to give it some time before he comes knocking at your door again, asking for more.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

I Can See You

"And I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission..."

Summary: You and Bucky don't see eye to eye, everyone knows that. They don't know that you and Bucky once knew each other under very different names. And they most certainly don't know that when he looks at you, he can still every stolen moment, his jacket on the floor, notes saying meet him at midnight, you up against the wall with him. No, they don't see that at all. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

"I already told you, I'm only doing this because I owe you."

Six months - that was your promise.

Six months of your time and best efforts.

"And as a part of this favor, you promised to keep an open mind."

And an open mind, you begrudgingly recall. You promised you would keep an open mind about making this a more permanent placement.

Nick Fury was sure that you'd find a home here in the Avengers Compound.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn't - but you weren't going to tell him that.

You hated owing people. Nick Fury even more so. You could bide your time for six months to pay your debt to him. He didn't need to know you had no intention of becoming an Avenger. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, Nick."

"That doesn't sound like an open mind," he admonishes.

You smirk, enjoying the frantic hustle and bustle of the Avengers Compound with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, "You know that I don't do well in teams. I don't play fair, Nick."

"Never heard that one before."

"But I bet you believe me, don't you?" you retort.

"Open mind."

You roll your eyes, waving him off, "Yeah, yeah, when exactly do I get to meet these self righteous assholes?"

"How does now sound?"

"Like my worst nightmare," you mutter under your breath.

If he heard you, he doesn't let it show. Nick flings the door to the conference room open, revealing two men standing beside each other poring over a case file.

It's not their impressive statures that catch your attention. In fact, the blonde one hardly catches your eye at all.

And if you weren't highly trained and disciplined, a gasp would've lodged itself in your throat at the sight of the brunette you never thought you'd see again.

"Ah, Nick told us we might be meeting you today." The sandy haired super soldier extends his hand out to you. It doesn't escape your attention that the brunette snaps the file shut the moment he sees you. "I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

You return the gesture, still barely paying attention to the man. Your eyes flicker to Bucky. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was entirely unfazed by your sudden reappearance.

You're thankful you do know better. You know so much better. 

Bucky's eyes meet yours for a split second, they narrow slightly. It tells you everything that you need to know. You've caught him off guard.

Steve takes Bucky's silence as his cue to interject. He clears his throat, gesturing to his friend, "And this is Bucky Barnes. He's a, well, he's a man of few words."

Apparently, that hadn't changed since you knew him under an entirely different name.

"It's nice to meet you," you say to Steve. Your eyes flicker back to Bucky. His jaw ticks as a wide grin pulls at the corners of your mouth. He's worried that you'll give away his dirty little secret. Your eyes flash over to him, a mischievous gleam that Bucky doesn't miss, "The both of you."

Steve smiles at the change in your demeanor, "Nick filled me in about your little deal. Exactly how long is this trial run going to run?"

"Six months," you confidently reply, unabashedly staring at Bucky. "I'll be out of your hair in six months."

"But we're keeping an open mind, aren't we?" Nick urges you again.

You playfully roll your eyes, a beaming grin on your face, "Of course, Nick. You know, I don't know why, but suddenly, I get the sense that these next six months are going to be a hell of a lot of fun."

"That's an interesting take," Steve lilts.

"She's your problem now," Nick quips.

"Me? A problem?" you gasp in mock offense. You turn to Bucky, who's still yet to say a word. "Do I look like a problem, Bucky?"

Bucky's eyes narrow again. The muscle in his jaw ticks yet again. You swear you can almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. It's almost enough to make you laugh.

The silence is palpable as Bucky glares at you. Steve nervously laughs, taking a step closer to you. He gestures to your duffle bag, "How about I show you were you can put your stuff down? We'll give you a chance to settle in and you'll meet the rest of the team first thing in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan, Captain."

"Just Steve is fine."

"See?" You call over your shoulder to Nick. "I'm already having so much fun."

You're not surprised that he came to find you minutes later. If you're right, he waited just long enough to make sure he wasn't being obvious. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to feel his lurking gaze far before you see him. "I can see you."

"Why did you lie?" Bucky furiously demands, standing in the doorway of your new bedroom.

You grin to yourself, still turned away from Bucky. "Nice to see you again, Soldat."

"Bucky," he firmly states, his hands curling into tight fists. "My name is Bucky."

"If I recall correctly, you liked when I called you Soldat." You turn on your heel, taking several steps toward Bucky. He knows he should stop you. He knows he should stay as far away from you as possible, as far away from your bedroom as possible. And yet, there's a side of him that wants nothing more than to feel you close to him all over again. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't push you away. Not even when you're close enough to touch him. "Or did it sound better when I whispered it in your ear?" You lean in, your voice dropping to a soft whisper in his ear, "My Soldat."

He does his very best to suppress the shudder that rolls through his entire body. It takes him a beat longer than it should to regain his senses and take a step away from you. He demands again, "Why did you lie?"

You chuckle, finally stepping away and allowing him his space, "Would you prefer I tell your team mates about your history of getting a little too close to your enemies?"

"What makes you think that they don't know?" Bucky challenges. 

You languidly shrug, "We'll call it a hunch."

"I'm not that person anymore." Bucky takes an angry step forward, desperate to convince you that he's a changed man. "I don't keep secrets anymore."

"So tell them," you offer. "What do I care?"

"You cared enough to lie," Bucky shoots back.

"If you want to let your team know that we used to fu-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. I'm not that person anymore," he repeats himself. This time, he's not sure who he's trying to convince.

"Then we shouldn't have any problems, should we?" you rhetorically ask.

His eyes narrow, his gaze sharp and ready to kill, "What are you up to?"

"Me?" You gesture to yourself, resting your hand on your chest. "I'm not up to anything. Come on, Soldat, don't you trust me?"

"No, I don't because I know you, and you're always up to something," he bitterly accuses. "You've always got an angle."

"I assume you're talking about that day."

"You sold me out."

"You'll never see, will you?" You roll your eyes at him, waving him off, "I'm simply doing the favor that was asked of me."

"Six months?"

"Six months. And no one will ever have to know. Unless, of course, you can't help yourself."

He scoffs, "That won't be a problem."

"History has a tendency to repeat itself, Bucky," you state, putting an extra emphasis on his name.

"Not this time. Here's how this is going to go." He reaches out, snatching your wrist. His grip is tight enough to force you to pay attention, but not enough to actually hurt. "I'll stay away from you, and you're going to stay away from me. Got it? Let's just - let's keep this professional."

A grin spreads across your face. Your eyes flicker down to the burning grip on your wrist. You like that, even now, even after all these years, you still have an effect on the man you once called yours. "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm as reformed as you are."

That's exactly what worried him.

The months passed as quietly as Bucky could ever bring himself to hope.

Still, you never quite let it rest, never let him rest.

You always had a way of letting him know that you could see him. You could see how he was struggling to contain himself, struggling to suppress every flashback, struggling to simply keep his eyes off of you, struggling to contain all the feelings that he denied he felt for you.

He wondered if you knew that you kept him up all hours of the night. There were so many nights he spent sleep evaded, wondering what would happen if he just knocked on your door. Would you be up waiting for him? Would you smirk that smirk? The one he'd come to love and hate all at once. The one that was haunting him. The one he saw every time he close his eyes.

It wasn't just at night. It was every night. Every day. Every waking moment that you danced somewhere on the outskirts of his awareness. Every time you brushed past him in the hallway. You had to know you were driving him to the brink of madness. 

Sometimes, you barely acknowledged him. Sometimes, you gave him that infuriating smirk. Every single time, he saw it. Every single time, he saw you.

That part of his life was, for lack of a better word, scrambled. And still, he could never forget your touch. That part was crystal clear.

And he couldn't decide whether he loved or hated the fact that it might just be you doing that to him.

It ate at him.

It was a special gift you possessed, he had to admit. You could make him see whatever you wanted him to see, the power to ensnare his senses. The good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. You had the power to do it, to make him see whatever you wanted him to. He told himself that's what it was. It wasn't remembering a long lost love, it was you messing with his head all over again. 

He'd see flashes of the time you spent together once upon a time. His jacket on the floor. Up against the wall with you. Those old, crumpled notes telling him to meet you at midnight. He remembers every second of it. 

But most of all, you. He remembers every whispered sweet nothing. He remembers the anticipation he felt every time he saw you. And he remembers your touch. Your lips on his, trailing down his jawline. Your fingers running over the planes of his chest.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't your powers. It was you. There was no forgetting a touch like that. No forgetting a person like you.

It just another way you tormented him. So few ever escaped the Winter Soldier. Even fewer lived to tell the tale.

Not you. You not only lived to tell the tale, you taunted him with it. After that very first night, where he was, you were. He was never quite sure if it was glorious happenstance or your own doing.

Your very first encounter, you caught him totally off guard - something previously thought impossible. He didn't see you. He didn't hear you coming. He didn't feel you slip past him to reach your target before he ever could. All he remembered was hearing footsteps in the dark street. He knows for a fact you could've disappeared into the night without him ever knowing. He whirled around, searching for the culprit. He saw nothing, no one. 

It should've been quick, an easy kill. Instead, it was the first time he ever failed.

To this day, he swears that he heard your whispered laugh when he realized his target was gone, vanished into the night.

You showed yourself the second time. He was more prepared that time. Not ready for it, but more prepared. The first time his vision failed him, he sprayed the room with bullets.

"Uh, uh," you condescendingly tutted, allowing him to see you standing before him. "Can't get rid of me that easily, Soldat."

He saw you standing before him for a short moment, just enough to memorize your face. And then he lost all sight. You stroked his cheek, he remembers that. It was the first time you ever touched him. It was the most tender touch he'd felt in decades.

When he regained his senses, you were gone. Along with his target. 

The third time, he caught you - or you allowed him to catch you. He wasn't quite sure.

"Who are you?" he demanded, pinning you against the wall.

"Poor, Soldat," you cooed at him. It confused him. There was no fear in your voice. For some reason, he knew that if he released your arms from his iron grip, you wouldn't punch, scratch, or claw at him. You wouldn't fight back. You'd taunt him with your touch all over again. And for a reason that was more unknown to him, he really wanted you to. "They truly tell you nothing."

His sight was gone, but this time, he refused to let go. He gripped your wrists hard enough to leave bruises, pinning them over your head, "Let me see you."

"Say please." There it was that taunt that he knew would come. There was a lilt to your voice he'd never forget. In that moment he knew, he was powerless against you and your whims.

"Let me see you. Now."  He grips you even tighter. For a long moment, he still saw nothing. All he could feel was your body pinned against the wall, pinned against him. He softly exhales, his breath dusting over your lips, "Please."

He thought he memorized your face the first time you allowed him to see you, but he was wrong. There was so much he missed. He missed the slope of your nose. How soft and plush your lips looked. The mischievousness shining in your brilliant eyes.

He studied your face again. Over and over. Forcing himself to commit every detail to memory. Your smirk melted into the warmest smile he'd ever seen you wear.

You lean into him, as close as his grip will allow you to. So close that your lips linger a breath away from his. For a moment, he thinks you're going to kiss him. Instead, you speak softly, your breath skating across his lips, "I like you, Soldat. We're going to have fun."

His heart still stuttered. At the time, he didn't know what you meant.

He learned quickly after that.

It was the definition of a whirlwind romance - or as close to a romance as two assassins could possibly get. Long nights spent beside you. Jet setting across the globe for missions, just waiting with bated breath in the hopes that you'd be there. You never talked about what it meant, what you felt, all you had were those nights. Somewhere in those nights, he stopped being Soldat, and he started being your Soldat. 

So was it you? Were you the reason he could still see it?

Or was it him? Was it the fact that he could never really let those nights go?

He was a different person than the one you knew all those years ago. He was on the straight and narrow. He stayed out of trouble. You were the epitome of trouble. You sold him out the moment it was convenient for you. So why can't he let you go?

You caught him off guard when you showed up here. He was determined to make sure that didn't happen again. He just needed to be on his best behavior.

He knows you've been watching him - but he can see you, too.

You make a point to brush past him in the hallway on the way to the conference room. He thinks you can't see it, but you've been watching him closely.

You can see the waver of his Adam's apple, the way his eyes dart in your direction when you pass him, the way his jaw ticks shut as if he were doing his very best to contain himself.

Your days here on the Compound were dwindling down to your last few weeks. He still couldn't figure out why he couldn't let you go.

Even as he sits across the conference room table, you overwhelm each and every one of his senses. You pretend like you don't see him taking the seat directly across from you. Instead, you lean closer into Sam.

Sam grins at you. "So you can show me anything?"

"Anything," you promise, driving Bucky mad by using that torturous smirk on Sam. 

Bucky's not sure what Sam sees. It could be anything. A powder white beach on some far off coast. A meadow filled with fragrant, vibrant flowers dancing in the daylight. You could make him feel like he was plummeting to his death. You could make him feel loved for the first time in his life. You could let him know a betrayal like no other. 

He shakes away the runaway train of thought, focusing on the far off look in Sam's eye and the look of wonderment painting his face, "Whoa..."

"Bucky," Sam calls, his voice filled with laughter as you use your gift like a party trick. "Come try this! She's like a human VR."

"As tempting as that is," Bucky sarcastically remarks, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd like to get this meeting over with."

"Alright, team," Tony calls out, beginning their latest team meeting. "Fury added another assignment to our docket. Black tie, intercepting a black market intel deal. You get in, you get out. Should be easy enough."

"Whatever you say," Bucky mutters under his breath.

"Barnes," Tony smirks. "I'm so glad you agree. You're up."

"What? Why?" Bucky demands. 

Tony nonchalantly shrugs, "Because I said so."

"Asshole," Bucky grumbles.

Tony's eyes flicker over to you next. In that moment, Bucky freezes. There's no way Tony know about the two of you, but it certainly feels like Tony's doing this just to punish him. "And you can take the human VR with you."

"No," Bucky sharply refutes, gripping the table so tightly he's sure Tony will have to get a new one. "I go, I go alone."

"Sorry, Barnes, we'll need more than brawn to get us into that gala."

Six months. Almost six months passed and he'd done everything in his power to avoid this. To avoid being alone with you. To avoid working in close proximity to you and the aura of temptation and betrayal that shrouded you.

The number of favors he now owed to his teammates was proof of it. He had no interest in testing the limit of his will power. "Then, I'll take Wanda."

Tony crosses his arms, shaking his head and looking far too pleased at Bucky's discomfort, "Nope, she's needed on a different assignment."

You smirk, tongue running over your teeth like a predator watching their prey fall into their trap. "Careful, Bucky, I'm starting to get the sense that you don't want to work with me."

Bucky's eyes dart to you, grimacing at you, "Whatever."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun."

"Bucky," Steve starts, tightly gripping his shoulder as the room filters out. "What's the problem?"

Bucky glowers at you as you saunter out of the conference room. Of course, you're far too pleased with this outcome. You make a point to grin at him as rage rolls off of him. "I don't trust her."

"Why? She's never given us any reason not to."

"Because -" Bucky starts, faltering after only a word. He can't bring himself to say why. That was between you and him. A memory he buried long ago. "Forget about it."

But he remembers. All of it. He remembers the moment you betrayed him and broke his heart all too well. 

"My Soldat..."

He sighs in relief, he finally stops pacing the floor of your safe house. You asked to meet days ago and you had yet to show up. Weeks had passed without hearing from you. You'd never gone this long without making yourself known. Finally, here you were, back in his arms where you would always belong,"It's been too long. I was beginning to worry."

"Don't ever worry about me, my Soldat." Your words are sharper than he's ever heard from you, it shocks him. You caress his cheek, fingertips trailing down to his jawline, your words soften to a gentle whisper, "Don't ever worry about me."

He bends down and kisses the palm of your hand, "I will always worry. For you, I will worry for as long as I live."

You smile, resting your hand over his beating heart. That's why you were doing this. You made deals with people you hated, resigned yourself to a life always looking over your shoulder, and sealed your fate, all to keep his heart beating, all to give him the long, happy life he deserved.

"And for that, you'll always be my Soldat." You kiss him with everything you have left. Your last kiss. A goodbye kiss. Because if you loved something, you set it free. If they came back to you, they would always be yours. And now, you were setting him free. And he would never forgive you for this. He would never be yours again. "And that's why it had to end this way."

"What are you talking about?"

You back away from the window of your safe house, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

And that's when the SHIELD agents swarmed.

It was a moment hard to forget. Yet it was equally hard to remember, to remember why he didn't trust you, to remember why he could never allow himself to let his guard down, not when you were so good at taunting him. He was sure you were taunting. He knew it from the very moment you stepped into the armory in a red dress that nearly stopped his heart.

You make it a point to saunter past him, tossing a laugh over your shoulder, "Don't worry, Soldat. I'll be on my best behavior."

"I won't hold my breath." Flashes of old memories race through his head. This time, he's sure it's you. His eyes snap up to you with a glower, "You said you were going to be behave."

"I said I was going to be on my best behavior," you correct, making a show of picking out your knives for the night. "This is pretty much as good as it gets."

"That's what I was worried about," Bucky sighs to himself.

"Lighten up, Soldier. It's my last night, I'd like to have just a little fun."

"Last night?"

"That was the deal."

Bucky's eyes dart away from you as you lift your leg up. The fabric of your dress slides up as you strap a small dagger to your holster. He knows you're doing it on purpose to rile him up. That's not what worries him. What worries him is if you're not doing it intentionally. If you're not trying to get his attention and he's just so viscerally aware of you that he can't stop thinking about you. That's what worries him. He doesn't trust himself enough to be this drawn to you. He clears his throat of the knot forming, "So you're not staying?"

"Why? You gonna miss me?" you tease. He remains silent, his eyes unflinchingly forward. "Let's not kid ourselves, Bucky. You didn't want me to stay. Too risky - I might ruin your squeaky clean reputation."

He's absolutely certain that you're the only person that's ever referred to his reputation as squeaky clean. "You're really leaving?"

"It's okay, Soldat."

"I told you not to call me that," Bucky snaps. He's aware that his self control is slipping minute by minute. Every second in your presence is a test of his restraint.

"Do you still remember? Can you still see it in your mind? Or do you need me to show you?"

"Stop." He barks the second a flash of the memory starts playing in his head. He can see himself tossing his jacket on the floor in a frenzy. "That's enough."

You smirk that damned smirk at him again. His fist clenches tightly, the knuckles of his flesh hand white with strain. "You're thinking about us right now, aren't you?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push the image out of his head, he frantically shakes his head, "Stop it."

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking about?"

"Not particularly," he rasps.

"Liar."

He clenches his jaw so tightly that he's worried he might break a tooth or two as he desperately tries to hold onto his last ounce of self control. He's fighting a losing battle. "I'm not a liar."

"So what would you do? If I touched you right now?" You rest your hand against his chest. "If I got just a little bit closer?"

He hopes you can't hear his heart stutter. "I - I wouldn't do anything."

"What if you knew they would never find out? If we were so quiet and we didn't make a sound?"

"It wouldn't change a thing."

"What if I told you I remember it all? Every night. Every mission. Every time you kissed me."

"I-" His voice falters. Now was his chance. This was it, whether he wanted you to stay or go. Would you stay if he admitted that he never stopped thinking about those stolen moments? Or would you betray him all over again and laugh in his face and smirk that damned smirk with pride at bringing him to his knees? He can't put his finger on it, but in this moment, he doesn't care. He'll take the chance. He swallows the knot in his throat, "I would tell you I remember all of it."

Your hand twitches against his chest. "What?"

"I remember every second. I'll never forget any of it. I could just never figure out: Was any of it real?"

"Can't you see, my Soldat?" Your hand skates past his collarbone, up his throat, coming to rest on his cheek. Your hand caresses him with a tenderness he thought he would never feel again. "It was always real. Every moment of it."

"Then why did you do it?" he softly exhales.

"I had my reasons."

He lunges forward, and in the blink of an eye, he's gripping your wrist and pinning it to the wall behind you, "Tell me."

You grin wildly. You've been here with him before. "Arrogant as ever, Soldat."

"If it was real, why did you do it?" he demands, flexing his grip.

You lick your lips, momentarily debating whether or not to give him the truth. It ate at you for years. From afar, you could live with the knowledge that he might always hate you for what you did. Watching the conflict warring in his eyes was an entirely different battle. You figure, of all the things you could give him, the truth would at least give him some sense of peace. "It wasn't safe."

He loosens his grip slightly, "I would've protected you."

"It wasn't safe for you."

His eyes flash open. "What?"

"You were my mission, Bucky," you finally confess. "There was never anything else - anyone else. It was you. Only you."

He lets go, the shock sending him staggering. Your hand skates down the wall, but he doesn't move back to allow you the space to move. "You were sent to kill me."

You tilt your head at him, "I clearly failed."

"That doesn't explain why you betrayed me."

"Someone found out about us."

He shakes his head, his eyes storming with anger, "No, we were careful."

"Someone knew. I got a nice gunshot in the back to prove it. They knew I wasn't going to complete my mission. They knew I was never going to kill you. I wasn't going to lead them right to you. I didn't know who was watching. I wasn't - I wasn't going to gamble your life until I was sure that they were all gone."

The realization dawns on Bucky almost immediately. Sure, you were one hell of an assassin. Sure, your powers were beyond belief and could take down even the most heinous villains. But not even you could singlehandedly take down the crime syndicate you used to work for. An organization almost as massive and pervasive as HYDRA was. That's why you put yourself in Nick Fury's debt. You did it for him. "That's why you owed Nick Fury. That's why you sold me out." 

"As twisted as it sounds, you were safer in SHIELD's custody. The moment I knew you were safe and in custody, I killed each and every one of them."

His voice is hoarse as he speaks, "You should've told me."

"I wasn't going to risk your life just so you wouldn't think badly of me."

"Then why did you come here?" he demands. "If you had no intention of telling me the truth, if you were going to pretend, why ask to come here?"

"I didn't ask to come here. I didn't know you were here. I stopped looking for you some time ago."

"Why?"

"I dug deep to finish what they started. And once I tore them down brick by brick, I needed to rebuild. I had nothing left. It took me a while to resurface."

"Oh." There's a tightness in Bucky's chest at your confession. He never looked for you. He though you betrayed him. Up until now, there was no reason to believe anything else. You rebuilt your life on your own. You had no one, nothing left. You were left all alone. He left you all alone. 

There's a strange look in Bucky's eye when you finally look up at him. There's a lightness you haven't scene in quite some time. "What?"

The corner of Bucky's mouth twitches up. You may not have known, but Nick Fury sure did. "Fury knew I was here. He knew where he was sending you. He knew about... us?"

"I assume he figured it out when I came to him, begging him to help me keep you safe."

A shaky exhale dances across your lips. Bucky closes the gap between the two of you, pressing you up against the wall with him. "It was real."

For the first time in a long time, you touch him. You rest your shaky hand against cheek, your fingers ghosting over his lips, "Finally, you see, it was real... my Soldat."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[00valentina-writes00]

An: I saw someone else do a Jock! vi x reader and…I wanted to try a go at it too^^

Original idea: @loaksky (THEY ARE SOO GOOD AT WRITING YOU HAVE TO CHECK IT OUT, my writing isn’t half as good as theirs is-)

Title: Chemistry Off the Ice

Synopsis: High school chemistry takes on a whole new meaning when you’re paired with Vi, the school’s cocky hockey star, for a lab assignment. Known for her bad-girl reputation and irresistible charm, Vi makes it her mission to break down your walls. Despite her relentless flirting, you’re determined to keep things strictly academic—until a drunken night at a party and unexpected late-night confessions begin to blur the line

Featuring sassy banter, undeniable chemistry, and dramatic promposals, Chemistry Off the Ice is a slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers romance with plenty of fluff and heart.

Warnings:

• Swearing and mature language

• Brief mentions of underage drinking

• Themes of self-doubt and emotional vulnerability

• sexual content

• Over-the-top high school shenanigans

||———————————————————————||

The fourth-hour bell rings, signaling the start of chemistry, and you drag yourself into class with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to a dentist appointment. Mr. Tails is already at the front of the room, fiddling with his projector and trying to shush a few kids laughing in the back row. You glance at the empty seat beside yours, silently praying it stays that way for the rest of the period.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor breaks your illusion of solitude. You look up to see her. Vi strides in with the kind of swagger that makes her the star of every room she enters. Her magenta hair catches the fluorescent light as she tosses her bag on the counter and slouches into the seat beside you. She’s all sharp angles and cocky smirks, her light gray eyes scanning the room like she owns it.

“Alright, class,” Mr. Tails announces, clapping his hands. “We’re partnering up today for the molar mass and reaction rates lab. Take a good look at the person next to you—they’re your partner for the week.”

Your stomach sinks.

Vi leans back in her chair, folding her muscular arms behind her head. “Looks like we’re stuck together, huh?”

You force a tight smile, already regretting every decision that led you to this moment.

The lab instructions are written on the whiteboard in Mr. Tails’ barely legible scrawl, and you jot them down in your notebook while Vi lazily flips through the chemistry textbook.

“Alright, so first we’re figuring out the molar mass of this compound,” you mumble, tapping your pencil against the page. “I’ll handle the math if you grab the materials.”

Vi raises an eyebrow, her grin teasing. “What, don’t trust me with the calculations?”

“I trust you as far as I can throw you,” you shoot back without thinking, and Vi laughs—a low, rich sound that catches you off guard.

“Fair enough.” She pushes herself up from her seat, heading to the supply station.

You watch her for a second longer than you mean to. The way she moves is all confidence, like she knows exactly how to hold the world’s attention. You snap out of it when she returns, setting a tray of beakers and compounds on the counter with a loud clatter.

“Happy now?” she asks, leaning on the counter and smirking at you.

“Ecstatic,” you mutter, focusing on the measurements.

As the lab progresses, you realize something unsettling: Vi is smarter than you expected. Much smarter.

When she’s not leaning in close and murmuring flirty comments, she’s solving calculations in her head faster than you can write them down.

“You multiply the molarity here,” she says, pointing to your notebook, her finger grazing yours. “Then divide by the volume of the solution.”

You blink at her. “How do you even know that?”

Vi grins, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

You hate that she’s right.

Her sharp intelligence only makes her insufferable flirting more irritating. Every few minutes, she tosses out some line designed to make you stumble.

“Careful,” she says, her voice low as you measure out a solution. “You spill that, and we might have to do mouth-to-mouth.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re not as charming as you think, you know.”

“Really? Tell that to half the girls in this school.”

There it is—the infamous player reputation. You’ve heard the stories: Vi breaking hearts left and right, leaving a trail of lovesick admirers in her wake. It’s almost impressive how shameless she is about it.

“Look,” you say, setting down the pipette with more force than necessary. “Can we just focus on the lab? Some of us actually care about passing this class.”

Vi raises her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. No need to get all worked up, princess.”

By the end of the class, you’re more annoyed than anything else.

Sure, Vi’s chemistry skills are undeniable, but her constant smirking and relentless teasing have you itching to escape. When the bell finally rings, you start packing up as fast as possible.

“Hey,” Vi says, stopping you with a hand on your notebook. “Same time tomorrow?”

You glance at her, noting the way her light gray eyes seem to catch the light, the playful edge to her grin.

“Unfortunately,” you mutter, pulling your notebook free.

Vi chuckles, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Looking forward to it, partner.”

As she walks out of the room, you shake your head, trying to figure out how someone so infuriating could also be so good at chemistry.

You’re not looking forward to tomorrow. Not even a little.

~~~

The next day in chemistry, you walk into the classroom with a sense of foreboding. As much as you’d like to think otherwise, the prospect of spending another hour with Vi feels less like an academic exercise and more like a test of patience. You take your seat, flipping through your notebook, and brace yourself.

Right on cue, Vi saunters in, late as usual, her bag slung lazily over one shoulder. Her light gray eyes scan the room before locking onto you, and that trademark smirk spreads across her face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite lab partner,” she drawls, dropping into the seat next to you with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Miss me?”

“Like a toothache,” you reply without looking up.

Vi chuckles, leaning on the counter and invading your personal space just enough to be noticeable. “You’re funny, you know that? It’s cute.”

“Funny isn’t what you’re going for, though, is it?” you retort, finally glancing at her. She’s wearing that same cocky grin, the one that probably works on every other girl in school.

“Depends,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “Is it working?”

You roll your eyes and turn back to your notes. “Not even close.”

As Mr. Tails starts explaining the second half of the lab, Vi leans closer, her breath warm against your ear.

“So, what’s it going to take?” she murmurs, her tone dripping with confidence.

You blink, caught off guard by the question. “What’s what going to take?”

Vi shrugs, her grin widening. “To get you to like me.”

You snort, louder than you mean to, earning a sharp glance from Mr. Tails. “I don’t think you can handle rejection, can you?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, feigning offense. “Rejection? From you? Oh, come on. Everyone likes me.”

“Not me,” you say firmly, meeting her gaze head-on.

For a split second, Vi looks genuinely surprised, like the concept of someone resisting her charm is completely foreign. Then her surprise shifts into intrigue.

“Alright,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “Challenge accepted.”

You groan, already regretting engaging with her.

The lab itself is straightforward enough, but working with Vi is anything but simple. Every step of the process is punctuated by her relentless teasing and over-the-top attempts to impress you.

“You know,” she says, carefully pouring a solution into a beaker, “I think we make a pretty good team.”

“You mean because I’m doing all the work?” you reply, adding a precise amount of compound to the mix.

“Nah,” Vi says with a grin. “Because I’m making this fun.”

You pause, glancing at her. “This? Fun? For who?”

“For you, obviously.” She winks, and you roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle you don’t strain something.

By the halfway point of the lab, you’re ready to snap. Vi’s relentless flirting is like an itch you can’t scratch, equal parts annoying and distracting.

“Why are you like this?” you ask, exasperated, as you scribble down your results.

“Like what?”

“Like…” You gesture vaguely at her, searching for the right words. “This. All the flirting, the smirking, the—”

Vi grins, cutting you off. “The charm?”

“More like the ego,” you shoot back.

“Ouch.” She places a hand over her chest, feigning hurt. “You wound me, partner.”

You snort. “Somehow, I think you’ll survive.”

Eventually, you can’t take it anymore. You set down your pen, turning to face her directly.

“Look, Vi, I’m just going to save you some time here,” you say, your tone firm. “I don’t sleep with players.”

For the first time, Vi’s confident grin falters. It’s brief, barely noticeable, but you catch it.

“Players?” she repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean,” you say, crossing your arms. “The whole school knows your reputation. Short flings, casual hookups, leaving girls heartbroken—sound familiar?”

Vi doesn’t deny it. Instead, her grin returns, but there’s a new edge to it. “So, what, you’re saying you’re immune to all this?” She gestures to herself, her voice dripping with mock disbelief.

“Completely,” you reply without hesitation.

Vi leans closer, her gray eyes narrowing in challenge. “We’ll see about that.”

You roll your eyes again, turning back to the lab. “Good luck with that, Casanova.”

Despite her frustration, Vi seems more determined than ever. For the rest of the lab, she tries every trick in her playbook: complimenting your intelligence, cracking jokes, even pretending to mess up the experiment just to get your attention.

Nothing works.

By the time the bell rings, she’s visibly annoyed, though she hides it well.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asks, her tone almost mocking as she packs up her stuff.

“Unfortunately,” you reply, mirroring her words from the day before.

Vi chuckles, shaking her head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

As she walks away, you can’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Vi might be used to getting her way, but you’re not about to make it easy for her.

~~~

On the third day of your forced partnership in chemistry class, Vi’s persistent charm offensive reaches new heights. You walk in, coffee in hand, determined to endure another hour of her relentless teasing without snapping.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Vi greets as soon as you sit down. She’s already there, twirling a pen between her fingers like some kind of suave protagonist from a bad teen drama.

“Morning, headache,” you reply dryly, taking a long sip of your coffee.

Vi smirks, undeterred. “Damn, you’re spicy today. Didn’t get enough sleep? Thinking about me all night?”

You shoot her a deadpan look. “The only thing keeping me up was imagining ways to escape this lab without getting detention.”

Vi laughs, a low, throaty sound that somehow makes your pulse quicken despite your best efforts to stay immune to her. “You’ve got jokes. I like that about you.”

“And I like silence,” you retort, pulling out your notebook. “Think you can manage that for once?”

For the first half of the lab, Vi is surprisingly focused, finishing her portion of the work faster than usual. You suspect she has an ulterior motive when she leans back in her chair and grins at you like she’s just scored the winning goal.

“So,” she begins, stretching out the word like she’s savoring it. “There’s a party at Ekko’s tonight. You’re coming.”

You glance at her, unimpressed. “That wasn’t a question.”

“Exactly,” Vi says, leaning forward. “Because I already know your answer.”

You snort. “Oh, do you? Let me guess—‘Hell no?’”

She shakes her head, that cocky smirk never faltering. “Wrong. It’s ‘Hell yes.’”

You raise an eyebrow. “And why, exactly, would I want to go to some sweaty, overcrowded house party?”

“Because,” Vi says, leaning even closer, “you’ve been working so hard trying to resist me. You deserve a night off.”

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck. “Vi, I wouldn’t go to a party with you if my life depended on it.”

“Okay, but what if Ekko’s life depended on it?” she counters, grinning.

“Then I’d send flowers to his funeral,” you reply, turning back to your notes.

Despite your initial refusal, Vi somehow convinces you by the end of class. Maybe it’s the way she flashes you that infuriatingly charming smile, or maybe it’s the realization that you really could use a drink after dealing with her all week. Either way, you find yourself standing outside Ekko’s house later that night, already regretting your life choices.

The party is exactly what you expected: loud music, red Solo cups, and a mix of people you vaguely recognize from school. Vi finds you almost immediately, appearing at your side with two drinks in hand.

“Look who showed up,” she says, handing you one of the cups. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“I’m here for the free alcohol,” you reply, taking a cautious sip. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Vi grins. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, sweetheart.”

One drink turns into two, then three, and before you know it, you’re blackout drunk. The night becomes a chaotic blur of questionable decisions and ridiculous antics. At one point, you challenge someone to a dance battle despite having zero rhythm. At another, you climb onto the coffee table to deliver an impassioned speech about the superiority of cats over dogs.

Vi, to her credit, stays by your side the entire time, equal parts amused and exasperated.

“You’re a mess,” she says, catching you when you nearly trip over your own feet.

“I’m a delight,” you correct, poking her in the chest. “And you love it.”

Vi chuckles, steadying you with an arm around your waist. “Sure, whatever you say, lightweight.”

By the end of the night, you’re slumped against Vi, mumbling incoherent nonsense about the IRS.

“You can’t take me home,” you slur, wagging a finger in her face. “The IRS will find me. They’re watching.”

Vi stares at you, torn between laughter and concern. “Uh, okay. Noted. So where am I supposed to take you?”

“Nowhere!” you declare dramatically. “I live… nowhere. I’m a ghost.”

“Right,” Vi says, clearly fighting to keep a straight face. “Looks like you’re coming to my place, then.”

You don’t protest, too busy mumbling something about the government tracking your movements.

When you finally reach Vi’s house, she’s surprisingly gentle as she helps you inside. Her cool exterior cracks just a little as she guides you to her room, trying not to panic.

“Alright, sit tight,” she says, rummaging through her dresser. She pulls out an old hockey sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, holding them up like they’re some kind of offering.

“Clothes,” you mumble, staring at her like she’s just solved world hunger.

“Yeah, clothes,” Vi says, crouching in front of you. “Think you can manage to put them on, or do you need help?”

You squint at her, as if weighing your options. “Help,” you decide, flopping back onto her bed.

Vi freezes, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Uh… okay. Cool. No big deal.”

She moves carefully, trying to maintain her usual nonchalant demeanor as she helps you out of your party clothes. Her hands are steady, but you can feel the tension radiating off her as she avoids looking directly at you.

Vi stops short as her eyes catch on the lacy fabric beneath your party clothes. She stares for a second longer than she should before snapping her gaze away, her ears burning as red as her hair.

“Uh…” she clears her throat, fumbling with the sweatshirt in her hands. “Fancy.”

You crack an unsteady smile, still far too drunk to process her awkwardness. “You like ‘em?” you slur, wiggling your eyebrows in an exaggerated manner that sends Vi into a full-blown tailspin.

“Just… just shut up,” she mutters, her voice tight as she tries to focus on anything but the fact that she’s helping you undress while you’re wearing the kind of lingerie she thought only existed in movies.

Her fingers brush against your shoulder as she pulls your dress up and over your head, and she freezes again. You’re too out of it to notice how tense she is, but her jaw is clenched so hard it’s a miracle she doesn’t crack a tooth.

“This is fine,” she mumbles to herself, determined to keep her cool. “Totally fine. No big deal.”

“Big deal,” you echo, your words slurred but teasing. You grin up at her lazily. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not blushing,” Vi snaps, her voice a little too sharp as she yanks the sweatshirt over your head. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You hum in response, unconvinced but too sleepy to argue. “Mmm… you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Vi groans, her head tilting back as if begging the universe for strength. “God, you’re impossible.”

“Admit it,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the fabric of her sweatshirt as she adjusts it on you. “You think I’m hot.”

She doesn’t respond right away, which surprises you. When you glance up at her, her expression is guarded, her usual cocky smirk nowhere to be found.

“Just… go to sleep,” she says finally, her voice softer than usual.

You frown, reaching out clumsily to poke her cheek. “You didn’t deny it.”

“Because you’re drunk,” she says, gently pushing your hand back down to your side. “And you’re not gonna remember half of this tomorrow.”

You pout, sinking back into the bed. “Maybe I will. And then I’ll remind you.”

Vi rolls her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitches in a reluctant smile. “Sure, sweetheart. You do that.”

She tucks the blankets around you carefully, her hands lingering just a little longer than necessary. For someone who acts so tough, she’s surprisingly gentle, her movements almost reverent.

“Goodnight,” she says softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face again.

“Goodnight,” you mumble, your eyes already drooping closed. “You’re still blushing.”

Vi doesn’t respond, but the flush on her cheeks deepens as she sits back, watching you fall asleep. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she lets out a quiet sigh.

“Yeah,” she mutters to herself, her voice barely audible. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

As you drift off to sleep, Vi sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a mix of fondness and exasperation. She may act like she’s got it all together, but tonight has definitely thrown her off balance.

“Damn,” she mutters under her breath. “What the hell am I getting myself into?”

~~~

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache, a dull, persistent throb that feels like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to your skull. The second thing you notice is the faint smell of detergent and something sharper—hockey gear?—clinging to the fabric covering you. You blink, squinting at the sunlight filtering through unfamiliar curtains.

You’re in a room you don’t recognize, dressed in an oversized hoodie that nearly swallows you whole and a pair of equally massive sweatpants. It takes your sluggish brain a few seconds to piece it together, but the faint memory of Vi’s smirking face and her cocky voice filters through the haze.

Oh, no.

The door creaks open, and you flinch, pulling the blankets up to your chin like some kind of shield. Vi strolls in, a cup of water in one hand and a small packet of painkillers in the other, her hair still messy from sleep. She’s wearing a tank top and boxers, her toned arms on full display, and there’s a smug grin plastered across her face.

“Morning, trouble,” she greets, her voice far too loud for your current state.

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. “Kill me.”

“Nah, I’m not that cruel,” she teases, setting the water and pills on the nightstand. “Here. You’ll need these.”

You glance at the offering suspiciously before reaching for the pills, your movements slow and deliberate as if the slightest wrong move might shatter you entirely.

“What the hell happened last night?” you mumble, downing the painkillers with a grimace.

Vi leans against the wall, crossing her arms. “Let’s see… You got blackout drunk, tried to fight a lamp, insisted you were in witness protection when I asked for your address, and then passed out in my car. That about sums it up.”

You stare at her, mortified. “I did not try to fight a lamp.”

“Oh, you did,” Vi says with a laugh, pushing off the wall to sit at the edge of the bed. “Called it a ‘government spy.’ Honestly, it was pretty convincing. I almost believed you.”

You groan again, covering your face with your hands. “Please tell me I didn’t embarrass myself in front of everyone.”

Vi grins, leaning a little closer. “Not everyone. Just me. And maybe Ekko. And, uh, half the party.”

“Vi!” you wail, throwing a pillow at her. She dodges easily, her grin widening.

“Relax,” she says, holding up her hands. “It’s not the end of the world. No one’s gonna remember half the shit you did anyway. Well, except maybe me. You’re kinda unforgettable, y’know?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but the way her grin softens into something more genuine makes your stomach do an unwelcome little flip.

Before you can dwell on it, there’s a knock at the door, followed by a deep, gruff voice. “Vi, you up?”

Vi’s expression shifts instantly, her grin fading into something more guarded. “Yeah, Vander, I’m up.”

The door swings open to reveal a large, burly man with a thick beard and a face that looks like it’s seen more than its fair share of fights. His eyes flick to you, still bundled up in Vi’s clothes, and his eyebrows raise.

“Another one?” he asks, his tone teasing but not unkind.

Your face burns, and you sit up straighter, trying to look at least a little dignified despite the hoodie hanging off one shoulder.

“She was drunk,” Vi says quickly, her ears turning pink. “I couldn’t just leave her.”

Vander chuckles, crossing his arms. “You’re a real saint, Vi. Always takin’ in strays.”

You bristle, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “I’m not a stray,” you snap, a little sharper than you intended.

Vander raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, but he holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. My mistake.” He glances at Vi. “Just keep it down, alright? Powder’s still asleep.”

“Got it,” Vi mutters, waiting until Vander’s gone before turning back to you. “Sorry about that.”

You shake your head, still feeling awkward but grateful for the distraction from your hangover. “It’s fine. I should probably get going anyway.”

Vi frowns, but she doesn’t stop you as you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, wobbling slightly. She’s on her feet in an instant, steadying you with a hand on your arm.

“Whoa, take it easy,” she says, her concern breaking through her usual cocky exterior. “You sure you’re okay to leave?”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist, pulling away from her touch. “I just… I need to go.”

She doesn’t argue, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—disappointment, maybe?—that makes your chest tighten.

“Alright,” she says softly. “Let me at least drive you home.”

You hesitate, then shake your head. “I’ll call someone. Thanks, though. For, uh, everything.”

Vi watches you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before stepping aside to let you pass. “Anytime, trouble.”

The nickname makes your stomach flip again, but you push the feeling down, focusing instead on making it out of the house without further embarrassment.

As you step outside, the morning air cool against your skin, you can’t help but glance back at the door. You tell yourself it’s just to make sure you didn’t forget anything, but the truth is harder to ignore.

You don’t know what’s more frustrating—the fact that Vi’s cocky grin is still burned into your mind, or the fact that some part of you doesn’t want to forget it.

~~~

The first day back at school after the disaster of crashing at Vi’s place is hell. Not because of the homework or the typical high school bullshit, but because you can feel Vi watching you from across the hallway. Her sharp gray eyes practically burn holes in the back of your head every time you pass her locker, where she always seems to be leaning with that stupid, cocky grin.

You’ve made a decision—a firm, unshakable decision. Whatever happened at her place, it’s not going to happen again. Not the teasing. Not the casual flirting. Not her annoying tendency to worm her way into your thoughts without even trying.

You’re keeping things strictly platonic. Strictly professional.

Unfortunately, chemistry lab doesn’t make that easy.

You’re already seated at the lab bench, flipping through your textbook and pretending not to notice the sound of Vi’s boots as she strolls in late, as always. She drops her bag with a dramatic thud next to your stool and slides into the seat beside you.

“Morning, partner,” she says, her voice low and playful.

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the page.

“What? We are lab partners,” she says innocently, leaning back in her chair. You can hear the smirk in her voice. “I mean, unless you’re asking to switch. You’re not ditching me, are you?”

“No,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Good.” She scoots her stool closer, her shoulder brushing against yours. “’Cause I’d hate to lose the best lab partner in school.”

You glance at her, raising an eyebrow. “Are you actually going to help with the lab this time, or are you just here to steal my notes again?”

Vi grins, leaning in slightly. “Depends. You gonna let me copy off you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw, come on.” She tilts her head, her grin softening into something almost charming. “I’ll make it up to you. Buy you lunch or something.”

You snort, turning back to your book. “I’d rather not get food poisoning, thanks.”

Vi places a hand over her chest, feigning offense. “Ouch. That’s cold.”

The teacher starts explaining the experiment, sparing you from coming up with a response. You focus intently on the instructions, ignoring the way Vi keeps fidgeting beside you—tapping her pencil, spinning her stool, drumming her fingers on the table.

It isn’t until you’re halfway through the lab, measuring out a solution, that Vi finally seems to settle down. Or so you think.

“You missed a drop,” she says, her voice low and close to your ear.

You jump, nearly spilling the beaker, and glare at her. “Jesus, Vi. Do you have to sneak up on me like that?”

She leans back, looking smug. “Just trying to help. Teamwork, remember?”

“I’m doing fine on my own.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She gestures vaguely at the lab setup. “You’re really nailing the whole ‘one-person team’ thing.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to your work, determined not to let her get to you. But it’s hard to ignore her. The way she leans in just a little too close. The way her voice dips when she’s teasing you. The way she smells faintly of sweat and mint gum, a combination that’s annoyingly distracting.

The experiment drags on, and by the time you finish, your nerves are completely shot.

“Alright,” the teacher announces, clapping her hands. “That’s it for today. Don’t forget to clean up your stations.”

You start packing up the equipment, barely acknowledging Vi as she stands and stretches, her hoodie riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of toned stomach.

“See you tomorrow, partner,” she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

You don’t respond.

The next few days follow the same pattern. You keep your distance, only speaking to Vi when absolutely necessary. She, on the other hand, seems determined to make things as difficult as possible.

“Need help with that?” she asks one day, her tone laced with fake sincerity as she watches you struggle to balance a tray of lab equipment.

“No, thanks,” you say curtly, not bothering to look at her.

“Suit yourself.” She shrugs, leaning back against the lab bench with a lazy grin.

Another day, she “accidentally” knocks over a bottle of water, splashing your notes in the process.

“Whoops,” she says, not looking the least bit sorry.

You scowl, grabbing a paper towel to mop up the mess. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re fun to mess with,” she says cheerfully, handing you another paper towel.

By Friday, you’re at your wit’s end. You’ve been ignoring her flirty remarks, dodging her attempts to get closer, and shutting down her teasing as quickly as possible. But no matter how much distance you try to put between you, she keeps finding ways to get under your skin.

It all comes to a head during lab when she decides to take over the experiment without asking.

“Vi,” you snap, watching in horror as she dumps half a bottle of reagent into the solution. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping,” she says with a grin, giving the beaker a little swirl.

“You’re going to blow us up.”

“Oh, relax. I’ve got it under control.”

You snatch the beaker out of her hands, glaring at her. “Stop messing around. This is serious.”

Her grin fades, and for the first time all week, she looks genuinely frustrated.

“Why are you so damn uptight all the time?” she asks, her tone sharper than usual. “It’s just a stupid lab. Lighten up.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so uptight if you actually took anything in your life seriously for once,” you shoot back.

The room goes quiet, the tension between you crackling like static electricity. Vi stares at you for a moment, her jaw tight, before grabbing her bag and storming out of the room.

~~~

It’s one of those days where everything feels off, like the world’s spinning just a little too fast, and you’re stuck in the middle, trying to catch your breath. You’ve been dodging Vi all week—more than usual—and it’s starting to catch up with you. The tension in chemistry lab, the way you both keep avoiding each other’s gazes, and her frustrated silence every time you shut her down.

So, when the bell rings for lunch, you’re quick to dart out of the classroom, your thoughts a little too loud and messy to focus on anything else. The back alley of the school’s the closest thing to peace you can get, and you sneak around the corner, lighter in hand, a cigarette already dangling from your lips.

It’s not like you’re trying to be reckless; you just need something to calm the nerves, to block out the chaos of the day. The air’s cold, biting at your skin, but you don’t care. You’ve been feeling like you’re on the edge lately, and the smoke? It’s the only thing that makes it feel a little better, even for a second.

You lean against the brick wall, exhaling the smoke slowly and watching it curl into the air. Your thoughts start to drift, but not for long.

You hear the footsteps before you see her. The telltale heavy thud of boots you’ve grown all too familiar with. You freeze, the cigarette halfway to your mouth, but it’s too late. Vi’s already rounding the corner, and you can’t just pretend you didn’t hear her.

“Nice spot,” she says, her voice low and teasing as she crosses her arms, leaning against the opposite wall. “Didn’t think you were the type to sneak away for a smoke break.”

You don’t answer right away, flicking the cigarette butt to the ground and stepping on it with more force than necessary. The last thing you need is to get caught, especially when she’s here.

“Can I help you?” you ask, your voice colder than you intended.

Vi just smirks, walking closer. “Yeah, actually. I’ve been wondering when you’d stop being such a pain in the ass.”

You roll your eyes, pushing past her toward the exit, but she’s quick—too quick—and she’s blocking your path before you can make it two steps.

“Not so fast.” Vi grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “We need to talk.”

You stare at her, trying not to let the frustration you’ve been hiding all week show. You know where this is going. She always has a way of pushing when she wants something, and right now, it’s you. But you can’t give her what she wants—not when you’re still trying to figure out why she keeps coming back in the first place.

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” you say, pulling your wrist out of her grip. “You should probably get going before you get caught.”

Vi isn’t backing down, though. She steps forward again, her eyes narrowing, her usual smirk gone. “You’ve been acting like a real dick lately, you know that? You’ve been pulling away from me, avoiding me, like I’ve got some kind of disease or something.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Maybe you should take the hint, then. I’m not some idiot you can just string along for fun.”

She steps even closer, her face now only inches from yours, her voice quiet but intense. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You hesitate for a moment, biting your lip. The words are harder to say than you thought they’d be, but they’re there, pressing against your chest like a weight you can’t shake.

“Vi, I’m not like the other girls you mess with,” you finally mutter, avoiding her gaze. “I’m not someone you can just hook up with and forget about. I’m not… I’m not some notch on your belt, okay?”

Vi’s eyes soften for a second, and for the briefest moment, you almost believe she might understand. But then she scoffs, shaking her head.

“Is that what you think?” Her voice is laced with disbelief. “You think I’ve been—what? Playing with you this whole time?”

You shrug, trying to hide the hurt you’re suddenly feeling. “I don’t know, Vi. Maybe that’s just what you do. You get bored, and then you toss the girl aside. I’m not interested in being part of that.”

There’s a long pause, and for a second, you almost think she’s going to walk away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. But instead, she grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“Listen to me,” she says, her voice low and serious. “I wouldn’t have spent all this time with you if I didn’t give a shit.”

You stare at her, the words sinking in, but you can’t bring yourself to believe them. You want to. God, you want to. But there’s this nagging fear, this little voice in the back of your mind telling you that you’re just one more in a long list of girls who will end up discarded once she gets bored.

“I don’t need a pity party,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Just… leave me alone, Vi.”

You pull away from her, but Vi grabs your wrist again, this time with more force.

“Stop running,” she says, her tone harsh. “You think I’m just playing with you? You think I’m gonna toss you aside like that? After everything we’ve been through?”

You look at her, your chest tight with emotions you don’t want to deal with. “You’re not gonna change. You’re the same as all the others. You only want one thing, and then you’re done. So, no. I’m not doing this, Vi. Not with you.”

Her grip tightens, but she doesn’t say anything at first. It’s like she’s waiting for you to take it back, to say something that will make her think you’re not serious. But you don’t. You can’t. The fear of being just another girl who gets swept up and tossed away is too strong.

With a final, frustrated sigh, Vi releases your wrist, stepping back. “Fine. If that’s how you want it.”

You turn to leave, but then she calls out, her voice softer this time. “I’m serious about you, y’know. You don’t have to be scared of that.”

You don’t respond. You just keep walking, the weight of her words pressing down on you with every step. You try not to let it get to you, but damn, it does. You’re already second-guessing everything, wondering if maybe you’ve messed up by pushing her away.

But it’s hard to shake the feeling that, no matter what she says, you’re still just another girl who’ll get forgotten when she gets tired of you.

Later that night, you’re lying in bed, the room dark and silent, but your mind’s racing. Vi’s words echo in your head, over and over again: “I’m serious about you.”

You roll over, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to do with the emotions that have suddenly surged through you. You’ve always kept your guard up—kept yourself distant, safe from getting hurt. But now? Now you’re not sure if that’s even possible. You’ve pushed her away, but maybe… maybe you’re wrong about her. Maybe you’ve been looking for excuses to protect yourself instead of just taking the leap.

You can’t stop thinking about her. About what she said.

“Stop running.”

And for the first time in a long while, you’re not sure if running’s the right thing to do anymore.

~~~

You’ve just about had enough of the monotony of chemistry class when Vi slides into the seat next to you. Of course, she’s late—Vi always is. You try not to notice how she somehow manages to look effortlessly badass even in the midst of a boring class. Her magenta hair is a little messier today, a few strands of it falling over her sharp eyes, which glint mischievously. She sits down, slinging her bag onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Yo,” she greets, her usual cocky smile plastered on her face as she casually throws a glance your way. “You ready to mix some shit that’ll probably blow up in our faces?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you grab your lab materials. “You’re something else, Vi. Always ready to burn the school down.”

“Only if I’m bored,” she retorts with a wink. “So, how’s the chemistry of our little ‘thing’ going?”

Your heartbeat stutters a little as you meet her gaze. You know exactly what she’s talking about. Yesterday’s confrontation in the bathroom is still fresh in your mind. The look on her face as she cornered you… that spark of determination mixed with frustration, and the vulnerability that she tried to hide.

You try to shake the memories off as you start setting up your experiment. You can’t let it mess with your focus. Not now. Not here.

“I’ve been thinking,” you finally say, voice low enough to avoid attracting the teacher’s attention. Vi quirks an eyebrow, leaning in slightly as she catches the shift in your tone.

“Oh? What about?” she asks, her voice casual, but there’s a hint of interest beneath the surface.

You take a deep breath. “About what happened yesterday… in the alley. With me pulling away and all that.”

Vi’s eyes soften for a moment, her usual playful mask slipping. “Yeah?” She leans back in her chair, watching you carefully, as if waiting for you to say what’s been on your mind.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” you continue, trying to keep the nerves at bay. “I’m not gonna lie—I’m scared, Vi. Scared of being just another girl you hook up with and toss aside like the rest. I’m not some notch on your bedpost, you know?”

There’s a pause as Vi stares at you, her gaze intense. The playful grin is gone, replaced with something more serious, something you weren’t expecting to see. The room feels a little colder as the silence stretches between you two.

“I get it,” she finally says, her voice a little quieter than usual. “I’ve fucked up, okay? I’m not proud of it. But that’s not what this is, not with you.”

You roll your eyes, half-expecting her to pull one of her cocky, smooth-talking moves. But when she meets your gaze, you see something in her eyes—something real.

“I’m not promising I’m perfect,” she adds, her hands resting on the edge of the table as if she’s about to lean in, to make her point. “But I’ll be damn sure I don’t make you feel like you’re just another hookup.”

You’re not entirely convinced. You take a long, slow breath, processing everything she’s said. Maybe she’s sincere. Maybe she’s not. You don’t know for sure, but you sure as hell aren’t about to let her off the hook so easily.

“Alright,” you say, looking her dead in the eyes. “I’ll give you a shot. But my rule still stands.”

Vi tilts her head, a glimmer of confusion crossing her face. “Rule?”

You nod, leaning in slightly, matching her gaze. “No sleeping with the player until you prove you’re not just some smooth-talking, good-for-a-few-quick-hits girl. You’re gonna have to earn my trust, Vi. And that doesn’t come easy.”

She grins then, wide and mischievous. The old Vi, the one you’re used to, comes flooding back in full force. “Oh, I like a challenge,” she smirks. “I’ll prove you wrong. You’ll be begging me to take you to bed before you know it.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a warmth creeping up your neck. “We’ll see about that. But, no. I’m serious. You need to work for it. You need to show me you’re more than your reputation.”

Vi leans back in her seat, an exaggerated sigh escaping her lips. “Man, I gotta work harder than I thought. Guess I’ll just have to pull out the charm and start winning you over the old-fashioned way.”

“You better,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “Otherwise, don’t expect to get anywhere near me.”

She laughs, a genuine sound that’s enough to make your heart skip a beat. She may have been a cocky asshole at first, but now, with her little grin and the spark in her eye, you’re starting to see that maybe, just maybe, she’s more than her rep. Maybe you’ve been too quick to judge her.

“Well, alright then,” she says, the confidence returning to her voice. “You’re on. And you’ll see, I’m not like the rest of them. I’m not just gonna walk away from this. I’m sticking around. So you better get used to me.”

You can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it’s time to let someone in.

The rest of the chemistry lab passes in a blur of Bunsen burners and half-hearted attempts at paying attention to the teacher. But through it all, Vi stays close. A little too close sometimes, but you don’t mind it. Her presence is comforting in a way that you didn’t expect.

At the end of class, as you and Vi gather your things, she bumps her shoulder against yours with a playful grin. “You’re gonna regret this,” she mutters, the challenge clear in her voice.

“I doubt it,” you retort, smiling back. “But you’re welcome to try.”

She winks, clearly enjoying the banter, and for a moment, you think that maybe you’ve made the right choice. Maybe this is worth the risk.

That night, as you lie in bed, you can’t stop thinking about what happened in class. Vi’s words, her challenge, her promise to prove herself—it’s all swirling around in your mind. You’ve given her a chance. You’ve made her earn it, and now it’s up to her to show you she’s more than just a hockey player with a reputation. It’s not just about the physical connection anymore. It’s about trust.

And for some reason, you’re starting to believe that she’ll prove you wrong.

~~~

You hadn’t expected to be here. In fact, you would’ve bet money that there was no way in hell Vi was actually asking for help. You’d seen her breeze through math assignments and talk her way out of any awkward situation without breaking a sweat, but here she was, standing at her front door with a crooked grin plastered on her face.

“You really want me to help you with this?” you asked, one eyebrow raised as you looked down at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. The last thing you thought you’d be doing today was sitting in her living room, going over an English paper.

“Yeah,” Vi shrugged, her voice a little more sheepish than usual. “I can do math, gym, whatever, but English? Ugh. That shit’s hard. Besides, I heard you’re good at this stuff.” She grinned, obviously trying to play it off, but you could see the hint of genuine concern in her eyes.

“Sure, Vi,” you said with a smirk, pushing past her to step inside. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Vi’s house was a stark contrast to her bold personality—small, homey, and kind of messy, with a hint of charm. The place smelled like baked goods, and a couple of half-empty coffee mugs sat scattered across the kitchen counter. There was a comfortable chaos to it, a lived-in feeling that made you realize just how human she was underneath that tough exterior. The dark gray walls were decorated with mismatched frames, pictures of her and her friends laughing, her sister, Powder, posing next to a trophy Vi had probably won. You could see the pride in her eyes when she talked about her little sister.

“Alright, come on. Let’s get to it,” Vi said, plopping down on the couch and patting the seat next to her, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m trusting you not to make fun of me for my spelling mistakes.”

You threw her a skeptical look but sat next to her anyway. The couch creaked under your weight, and Vi shifted to get comfortable. “You’re lucky I’m doing this for you, Vi.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, pulling the paper closer. “Just get to it.”

You started reading through the paper, trying to suppress a chuckle at how bad it was. The content wasn’t horrible—it was clear she had a decent understanding of what she was writing about. But the grammar? God, it was a disaster.

“This isn’t a high school paper, Vi,” you said, glancing up at her. “It’s a goddamn warzone of commas and run-on sentences.”

She flopped back on the couch dramatically. “Hey, I didn’t pick this class. English is bullshit, anyway. What’s the point of all this crap? They want me to write essays about some old dead guys who probably didn’t even know how to spell.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, and despite yourself, you rolled your eyes. “Maybe if you took the class seriously, you’d pass without me holding your hand.”

She smirked, clearly unbothered. “Hey, I’ve got other talents.”

“Right,” you said sarcastically, pointing to the paper. “Like… this ‘talent’ of turning a page of words into a cluster of bad choices?”

“Shut up,” she grinned, nudging your shoulder with hers. “Just fix it, okay? I’m pretty sure you could get an A for me, and I can’t be bothered to put in all that work.”

You sighed, but a part of you was willing to help. Vi had this way of making you care more than you probably should. You leaned in, scratching out a few of the sentences, rearranging them, and fixing the punctuation like it was no big deal. As you worked, Vi leaned in too, hovering just a little too close for comfort. The occasional brush of her arm against yours made you hyperaware of her presence.

“So, what do you even do for fun when you’re not wrecking your body on the rink?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light, even as the proximity between you two seemed to increase with every move.

Vi looked at you, her expression turning slightly softer. “I… well, I don’t know. Hockey’s pretty much my thing. I guess I do some shit like play video games with Powder and the guys when we’re not at practice.”

You paused, taking a second to really look at her. The tough, cocky exterior cracked just enough for you to glimpse the person underneath—the girl who was still figuring herself out, who probably felt like she had to put up walls to protect herself. She wasn’t just a jock or the “bad girl” everyone thought she was. No, she had layers.

“You’re a gamer, huh?” you asked with a raised brow. “What games?”

She grinned, her usual cockiness slipping back in place. “Not that you’d understand, but I’m all about the classics. Got an old-school console in my room. You ever played Crash Bandicoot?”

Your eyes widened. “The classic? Hell yeah, I love that game. What else do you play?”

Vi laughed, clearly amused. “You’re telling me you play the same stuff? What are you, a 90’s kid or something?”

“I am a 90’s kid,” you shot back, nudging her. “It’s all about the classics.”

“Damn, I gotta admit, that’s kind of cute.” Her voice was quieter now, almost teasing, as she bumped her shoulder against yours again. “Maybe we should play sometime.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ll have to beat me first.”

Her eyes lit up with the challenge, and for a moment, you both just locked gazes, the tension thick between you. She was still that cocky, determined girl who wouldn’t back down from anything, but now, you were starting to see the softer side of her—the one that liked the idea of playing games just for fun, the one that didn’t need to be the toughest girl in the room.

“Alright, alright, I’ll let you have that one,” she finally said, returning to her paper. “But I’m telling you, I’m winning next time.”

“Keep dreaming, Vi,” you teased as you finished up her paper, handing it back with a satisfied smile. “All done. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Vi grabbed the paper, her expression still full of playful cockiness, but there was something else in her eyes too. Something warmer. “Thanks, teacher. I guess you’re not totally useless after all.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you said, grinning. “I’m not helping you with the next one. You’ll have to figure that out yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage. You just wait,” she shot back, the flirtatious edge in her voice making your stomach flutter, just a little.

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, each of you catching your breath, your shoulders still brushing lightly from time to time. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t casual, either. It was something in-between, and neither of you seemed eager to break the moment just yet.

“I’ll walk you out,” Vi said, standing up and stretching, her muscles rippling beneath her hoodie. She reached a hand out to help you up, her touch lingering just long enough to make you feel like there was more between you two than you were willing to admit.

As you both headed to the door, Vi stopped for a moment, looking back at you with a soft smirk. “You’re not half-bad, y’know?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Flirting with me now?”

She chuckled, her usual cocky self returning, but there was something in her smile that felt real, more genuine than it had in a long time. “Maybe. But you’ve still got a long way to go before you can outplay me. Just remember that.”

With a wink, she closed the door behind you, leaving you standing outside, the faintest smile on your face.

You couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on between you two. Vi wasn’t like anyone else you’d ever met. She was tough, cocky, and didn’t take shit from anyone. But maybe there was more to her than the surface you’d been seeing.

~~~

The week flew by faster than expected. Vi had kept her promise, sticking to her word about taking things slow and never pushing you beyond your comfort zone. There was a comfort in how she respected your boundaries, the way she seemed to instinctively know when to back off and when to push you just enough to make you want more. It was a quiet kind of intimacy, one built more on trust than anything else. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable around someone, especially someone like Vi.

The mornings were filled with casual hellos as you passed each other in the hallways, and the afternoons were spent hanging out at her place, doing everything from aimless walks around the neighborhood to sitting in her room, playing dumb games on your phones—like Roblox, of all things. It was ridiculous, but it worked. She’d distract you with her stupid jokes, and you’d laugh so hard your stomach ached. The time you spent together felt like a mix of pure chaos and unexpected moments of peace, and you didn’t want it to end.

One evening, it was just the two of you again, sprawled out on her bed, half-arguing about some random thing you were doing in the game. You weren’t even sure what you were doing anymore; the game was background noise to the vibe that was building between you both. Vi was lying on her back, one arm propped behind her head, eyes glued to her phone screen while you focused on your own. It wasn’t much, just you two existing in the same space. The air was thick with something that neither of you were acknowledging—yet.

“Yo, you’re really bad at this,” Vi teased, her voice rough and playful. You rolled your eyes, smacking her arm.

“Shut up, you’re just mad ‘cause I’m better than you.”

She snorted, flicking your forehead. “Not even. You’re just lucky.”

A beat of silence passed, and her eyes flicked over to you, the playful glint in her gaze turning into something softer. “You’re always so focused on your phone. Like, you never actually pay attention to me.”

You lifted your head, arching an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smirked, her voice dipping lower, teasing. “You’re just distracted. It’s cute, though. But I guess I’ll have to make you pay attention.”

The atmosphere shifted, and it wasn’t because of anything she said. It was in the way she said it, the way her voice softened at the end, laced with a challenge you couldn’t ignore. You felt your heartbeat pick up, the tension hanging in the air, thick with unspoken words.

You opened your mouth to reply, but then Vi was suddenly closer, her phone tossed aside, her hand gently resting on your arm. The subtle touch made your breath hitch in your throat. You swallowed hard, but she was already leaning in, eyes flicking to your lips and back to your eyes.

There was no turning back. You didn’t want to turn back.

And then, she kissed you. Softly, tentatively at first, just a press of lips that sent sparks through your entire body. Her hand found your cheek, gently cupping it, as if trying to pull you deeper into the moment. You kissed her back, slower at first, just savoring the connection, the feel of her lips against yours, the taste of something sweet and unspoken.

But as soon as you let yourself sink into it, something shifted—something raw and desperate. She pulled you closer, her body leaning into yours, and you felt the heat between you both intensify. You had no idea how you ended up this close, how everything blurred into one single feeling. Her hands were everywhere, pressing into your back, your waist, and you could feel her heart beating against your chest.

When she pulled away just a little, her forehead resting against yours, the breathless space between you felt electrified. You didn’t speak, but the world was still spinning in that moment.

“I don’t know what this is,” you whispered, the words barely audible in the quiet space between you.

Vi’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Does it matter?” She pressed her lips to yours again, this time with a little more urgency, as if trying to communicate everything she couldn’t say.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and suddenly, everything seemed so much clearer. She was everything you didn’t expect, but everything you needed. And in that instant, you couldn’t fight it anymore.

“I—” you started, but your words were lost when her hand slid down your side, making your breath catch.

The truth hit you all at once.

You were tired of playing by the rules. Of being cautious. Of hiding behind walls you didn’t need. Vi had a way of knocking them down without even trying, and you wanted nothing more than to be close to her. She’d made the first move, and you weren’t going to pretend like you didn’t want it. You weren’t going to lie to yourself anymore.

“I think you’ve got me,” you murmured, a small, shaky laugh escaping your lips.

Vi pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes searching yours, trying to make sure you were serious. “Yeah?”

Your chest tightened, your pulse racing, but this time, it was all excitement. “Yeah.”

And with that, she kissed you again, more fiercely this time, like she’d been waiting for you to catch up. You didn’t resist; you didn’t want to. And as the kiss deepened, you felt the last of your reservations slip away. You weren’t sure where this was going, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t care. You were done pretending you didn’t want this. Done holding back.

You blinked at her, still reeling as she pulled back. “Vi…”

“Don’t overthink it,” she interrupted, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Her fingers lingered against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. “Just…be here with me. Right now.”

It was a simple request, but it carried so much weight. This was Vi, after all—reckless and impulsive Breaking rules was practically her brand. And yet, despite her reputation, despite everything, you believed her.

So you nodded, and she smiled—a real smile, not her usual smirk. Then she kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the connection. Her hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. One of her legs hooked over yours, anchoring you together, and you gasped into her mouth.

“Relax,” she murmured, her lips trailing along your jaw. “I’ve got you.”

The words sent a wave of heat through you, and you arched instinctively into her touch. Her hands roamed your back, fingers pressing into your skin as if mapping every curve. When they dipped lower, grazing the waistband of your jeans, you shuddered.

“Vi…” you breathed, your voice shaky.

She paused, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” she said, her tone serious despite the hunger in her eyes.

You shook your head quickly. “Don’t stop.”

That was all the encouragement she needed. Her lips crashed into yours again, fiercer this time, and her hands slid under your shirt, fingers skimming over your stomach. The sensation was electric, and you moaned softly against her mouth, your nails digging into her shoulders.

Vi chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied. “Thought you might like that,” she teased, nipping at your lower lip before sucking gently.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, and she groaned, grinding against you in response. The friction was maddening, leaving you desperate for more. You tugged at her tank top, needing to feel her skin against yours, and she obliged, pulling it off in one fluid motion.

The sight of her bare chest stole your breath. Her toned muscles gleamed in the dim light, every scar and bruise telling a story of its own. You reached out, tracing the line of her collarbone with trembling fingers, and she shivered under your touch.

“Fuck, your hands…” she muttered, closing her eyes briefly. Then she leaned in, capturing your lips once more as her own hands worked to remove your shirt and bra.

The cool air hit your skin, raising goosebumps, but Vi’s warmth chased them away. Her palms slid up your sides, cupping your breasts as she kissed down your neck. When her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, you gasped, your head falling back.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

You couldn’t respond, too lost in the sensations rippling through you. Her tongue swirled over your nipple, teasing it into a hard peak, and you whimpered, your back arching off the bed.

“Vi, please…” you begged, though you weren’t even sure what you were asking for.

She seemed to understand anyway. Her hand slipped between your legs, rubbing slow circles over the fabric of your jeans. The pressure was delicious, and you rocked into her touch, chasing the pleasure building inside you.

“Is this what you need?” she asked, her voice husky.

You nodded frantically, unable to form words. She smirked, clearly pleased with herself, and unbuttoned your jeans with practiced ease. Her fingers hooked into the waistband, tugging them down along with your underwear, and the cool air against your heated skin made you gasp.

Vi knelt between your legs, her gaze raking over you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. “Look at you,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Before you could respond, she lowered her head, her tongue swiping slowly up your folds. The sensation was almost too much, and you cried out, your hands tangling in her hair.

“Shh,” she soothed, glancing up at you with a wicked grin. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

And then she dived in, her tongue circling your clit with expert precision. You writhed beneath her, clutching the sheets as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Her name spilled from your lips in a broken chant, each syllable trembling with need.

Vi alternated her movements, switching between fast, flickering strokes and slow, deliberate ones, keeping you teetering on the edge. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, she slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right and hitting that spot that made stars explode behind your eyes.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, your hips jerking uncontrollably.

“That’s it,” Vi encouraged, her voice muffled against you. “Come for me, baby.”

The command shattered whatever restraint you had left. Your orgasm ripped through you, blinding and all-consuming, and you bucked wildly against her mouth, your cries echoing through the room.

Vi stayed with you through every wave, her tongue and fingers working tirelessly until you finally collapsed, boneless and spent. She crawled up your body, planting soft kisses along your stomach and chest before reclaiming your lips.

~~~

You didn’t sleep much that night. The buzz of Vi’s touch, her lips on yours, was still alive on your skin as you lay there, replaying every moment over and over. You’d finally given in, allowed yourself to trust, and now, the morning after, you were left with the consequences.

The most obvious consequence? The cluster of hickeys on your neck, dark red marks that stood out against your skin like graffiti on a clean wall. You didn’t even realize they were there at first. The heat of the moment had distracted you, and by the time you noticed, there wasn’t much you could do about it. Covering them up with makeup wasn’t an option, so you were left with a bad case of “wear your mistakes like a badge of honor” as you scrambled to throw on a hoodie and pray no one would notice.

But, of course, they did.

As you walked through the hallways of the school, you could practically feel the eyes of your classmates on you. The whispers were subtle at first, but you heard them all. “Look at her neck… is that… is she…?” It didn’t take much to piece together what they were talking about. You hated the attention. Hated how exposed you felt, like everyone could see right through you. And it wasn’t even just the rumors you were worried about—it was the thought of Vi.

What if she didn’t care about this, about you?

You barely made it to your first class before someone asked, “Did you get jumped last night or something?” That stupid, offhand comment sent your nerves into overdrive. Of course, you laughed it off, trying to act like it was no big deal, but inside, you were panicking.

And then there was Vi.

Her presence was like a weight on your chest, but you couldn’t escape it. You spotted her in the hallway between classes, her signature cocky smirk on display, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She leaned against the locker like she owned the place, her muscles flexing underneath her hoodie. The crowd around her parted like the Red Sea, as it always did. You felt your stomach twist.

The moment your eyes met, she grinned. The mischievous glint in her eye was there, always there, but this time there was something else in it too—a challenge, maybe. A wink, and then she pushed off the locker to walk toward you, the smirk never leaving her lips.

You felt the heat rise in your face as she got closer, but you tried to stay cool. It wasn’t like you didn’t know what she was doing. Vi loved the effect she had on people, the way her mere presence could make anyone feel like they were under a magnifying glass. She was confident, magnetic, but right now, you couldn’t help but feel like you were in over your head.

“You look good today,” she said, her voice low and teasing, completely unfazed by the hickeys on your neck.

You blinked, caught off guard by the casualness of her tone. It didn’t seem like she was embarrassed. You, on the other hand, wanted to crawl into a hole and die. “Uh, thanks,” you mumbled, your eyes darting nervously around, trying to gauge how people were reacting.

Vi didn’t follow your gaze. Her hand found its way to your shoulder, fingers brushing against the fabric of your hoodie, and for a split second, you felt the world fade away. But only for a second. The whispers were still there, and you could feel the weight of their judgment.

“Everything okay?” Vi asked, her eyes narrowing with concern. “You seem kinda tense today. What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to explain the chaos in your mind. “It’s nothing. Just—” You gestured vaguely at your neck. “People are noticing.”

Vi’s smirk softened into something more like amusement, but there was a flicker of something else behind her eyes, something you couldn’t quite read. “So what? Let ‘em talk. They’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” You scoffed. “Of what, exactly?”

She shrugged, unfazed by your sarcasm. “You’re mine. And they can see it. So, if they wanna talk, let ‘em talk.”

That should’ve been enough to ease your nerves. After all, Vi was the star athlete, the girl everyone wanted to be. She was used to attention. She was used to being the one people ogled. You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite—awkward, quiet, out of place in this chaotic world. You couldn’t shake the feeling that your insecurities were written all over your face.

Vi, as if sensing your hesitation, stepped in closer, her hand brushing against the small of your back as she leaned in slightly, her lips just brushing your ear. “I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks, babe,” she whispered. “This thing between us? It’s between us. Got it?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew she meant it. Vi always meant what she said—when she cared about something, she went all in. It was just hard to reconcile that with the way you felt about yourself.

You weren’t like her. You weren’t the center of attention, the girl everyone was drawn to. You were the opposite—the quiet one, the one who spent more time in her head than engaging with the world around her.

Vi was everything you weren’t, but maybe that was what made it work. She had this confidence that practically radiated off of her, and it felt like she was constantly pulling you into her orbit, making you feel like you could be confident, too, even if it was only for a moment.

But deep down, you still couldn’t shake the question: Did she actually want to make this public?

Did she want to be with someone like you, someone who was so different from her? Or was this just another one of her flings, something she’d eventually tire of, leaving you with the pieces of your broken heart?

Before you could dwell on it any longer, Vi leaned back, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips as she straightened up. “You’re overthinking it, babe. Relax. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t feel entirely reassured, but you didn’t have the time to question her further. As much as you wanted to have a heart-to-heart, as much as you needed to know what this really was, the bell rang. Vi gave you a playful shove toward your next class, the kind of shove that told you everything was fine—at least, for now.

~~~

The moment you step through the cafeteria doors, you spot Vi. She’s leaning against the wall with her usual cocky grin plastered on her face, but she’s not just waiting for you. No, she’s got something planned. Something big.

You try to avoid her gaze, but it’s impossible. She’s got that confidence that fills up a room like it owns the place. You swear she has a magnet in her chest that just pulls all eyes to her. And today? Today it’s your turn. You’re stuck in her orbit whether you like it or not.

You try to focus on something, anything, but Vi’s energy is infectious, like a wildfire spreading through the room. And then, it happens.

Without warning, she’s up on top of the lunchroom table, eyes sparkling with mischief as the entire cafeteria quiets down. People start whispering, murmuring about what the hell is going on, but it doesn’t matter. Vi’s got the room’s attention, and she’s loving every second of it.

You’re already cringing, knowing what’s coming. You should’ve expected it. She stands tall, one hand holding a massive poster, the other in the air like she’s about to give a speech.

And then, she says it.

“Hey, (Y/N),” she yells, making sure every person in the room can hear her. “It would be pucking awesome if you’d go to prom with me!”

Your heart nearly stops in your chest. Oh, god. No. This cannot be happening.

The poster reads exactly as she said, written in bold, bright letters: It would be pucking awesome if you go to prom with me with the last words underlined for dramatic effect. And just to make it even worse, the entire girls’ hockey team is behind her, dressed in their jerseys, grinning like maniacs. Some of them are even clapping, egging Vi on, while others are cheering and whooping.

The entire room goes completely still. Not a single sound can be heard, except for your pulse in your ears. You can feel the heat rush to your face as you shrink back, desperately trying to hide behind the nearest lunch table. You’re mortified. Absolutely mortified.

Vi jumps down from the table, her boots making a satisfying thud as they hit the ground. She’s strutting toward you like she owns the place, and you can barely breathe as she reaches into her bag. She pulls out a single flower, a bold, red rose, and hands it to you with that same unbothered grin.

It’s cheesy. It’s ridiculous. It’s… Vi.

“Uh, yeah,” she says, voice low but still carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. “That’s for you, (Y/N). Prom? With me?”

You just stare at her, completely dumbfounded. What the hell is she thinking? What is this? Is she serious? Because if she is, this is… this is a level of public embarrassment you’re not sure you can handle.

“Vi!” you hiss, eyes darting around the room as you clutch the flower in your hand. “What the hell was that? In front of all these people? Are you trying to make me die of embarrassment?”

She shrugs casually, not even fazed by the attention. “What’s the big deal? I like you. I want you to go to prom with me. Why should I hide it?”

You want to yell at her. You really do. The way she’s acting like this is no big deal only makes it worse. But her tone, her sincerity—fuck, why does it make your heart race in a way that makes no sense?

“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” she continues, not even looking around at the still-staring crowd. She’s unapologetic, completely unbothered. “You and me? We’re a thing. And I’m gonna let everyone know.”

“You can’t be serious right now,” you mutter, still trying to process the overwhelming chaos of it all. “This is insane.”

“I am serious,” she says, and her smile softens just a little. “You’ve got to stop worrying about what other people think, (Y/N). It’s us. That’s all that matters.”

You glance at her, unsure of what to make of the vulnerability in her eyes. It’s a side of her you don’t often see, especially not in the midst of all the attention. And then it hits you—maybe, just maybe, this isn’t just some stupid joke to her. She’s actually trying to do something real. She wants you. She wants this to be something more.

“Vi, this isn’t funny,” you say quietly, feeling the weight of everyone’s stares on you. “You can’t just… throw this out there like it’s nothing.”

She steps closer, her grin widening again, that playful glint returning to her eyes. “Yeah, well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll be your personal spotlight for the rest of the day,” she teases, nudging your shoulder with her.

You want to tell her to stop, to get away from the center of attention, but your chest tightens. The thing is, as much as you hate the spectacle of it all, there’s a part of you—deep down—that’s actually touched by her boldness. She wants you, and she doesn’t care who knows about it.

For all her cockiness and bravado, she’s laying it all out there, no apologies, no hesitation.

You glance down at the flower in your hand, the red petals standing out against your clammy palm. You wish you could just disappear, but Vi’s there, looking at you with that grin that somehow manages to make you feel like the only person in the room.

“Okay, okay,” you mutter, trying to keep the nerves from taking over your voice. “I’ll go to prom with you. But you owe me for the public humiliation, alright?”

Vi laughs, loud and unrestrained, before she leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, a brief, soft thing that makes your knees weak. “Deal,” she says with that characteristic grin of hers. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

And despite the chaos, despite the fact that you just agreed to go to prom with the school’s biggest attention magnet, part of you already knows that it’s going to be fucking awesome.

~~~

The evening air is crisp as you stand at the front door, waiting. Your heart is pounding, and no amount of deep breaths is making it better. You’ve been nervously fidgeting for the last hour, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You’ve never been one for big events like this—prom was always something that seemed… unreachable, too perfect. But tonight? It’s not some fantasy. It’s real. You’ve got a hot date who happens to be a badass hockey player with a reputation that could make a lot of people sweat.

You adjust your outfit for the tenth time, just to be sure everything’s in place. Your dress hugs you in all the right places, the color matching the shade of your nervous but excited heart. Your makeup is flawless, you think. And you’re not going to be intimidated by the idea of being next to her. Vi.

Then you hear it—the soft crunch of gravel under tires. You step toward the door, just in time for the doorbell to ring, and you swing it open with a quick breath. And there she is.

Vi. Standing there like she owns the fucking world.

She’s dressed in a tailored suit, the fabric dark and sleek, hugging her athletic frame perfectly. Her hair is slicked back, the magenta strands impossibly smooth, leaving her face more defined, sharper than usual. Her piercing gray eyes meet yours as she takes you in, and for a moment, it feels like everything around you stops. The world might as well be holding its breath for this one moment. You know, for damn sure, she’s doing the same.

“You look… fuckin’ amazing,” she says, voice low, yet the smile playing on her lips says everything.

You blink, trying to collect your thoughts. “So do you,” you manage to say, voice tight with nerves you can’t seem to shake.

Her eyes scan you again, softer this time. “I meant it. Damn, you look so good I’m gonna have a hard time not showing you off tonight.”

Your stomach flutters at her words, but you quickly shove the sensation down. “Shut up. You’re the one who’s gonna make everyone jealous, aren’t you?” you tease, glancing at her with raised brows. You’re not wrong, though. Everyone will be staring at her tonight. That much is inevitable.

Vi steps closer, her body heat hitting you like a wave. “They can stare all they want,” she grins, her voice teasing, yet there’s something in her eyes that’s different—something that tugs at your heart. “But you’re the only one I’m interested in tonight.”

That makes your breath catch.

Before you can say anything else, she offers her arm, a smirk still tugging at the corner of her lips. “C’mon, we’ve got a night to ruin. Let’s go show ‘em how it’s done.”

The ride to prom is a blur of music, half-nervous laughter, and teasing jabs at each other. Vi is impossibly calm, while you feel like a nervous wreck. There’s something about her presence that steadies you, but still, it’s hard to shake the feeling of all eyes on the two of you. But when you arrive, it’s even worse.

The entrance is lined with other couples and singles, all eager to get their first glimpse at the night’s main event. You and Vi walk in, and the moment you cross the threshold, it’s as if the entire room turns to look at you. You can feel every eye on you—mostly on Vi, but you can feel the weight of their stares on you, too.

Vi’s hand is warm and firm against your back, guiding you through the crowd. She doesn’t seem phased by the attention. In fact, she’s loving it. And you can’t help but feel this ridiculous rush—this unexplainable burst of confidence just by standing next to her.

The two of you make your way to the dance floor. The music’s loud, the beat thumping under your feet, and Vi’s grip on you tightens as she pulls you toward her. “Let’s make this night ours,” she says, and her voice is rough with excitement.

You both get into the rhythm, bodies moving to the beat. You find yourself laughing at how easy it is, how the entire room could fall away and it wouldn’t matter. It’s just you and Vi. And for the first time in your life, it feels like you actually belong. You stop worrying about everything and just… feel. Her hands rest on your waist, pulling you closer, her breath warm against your cheek.

You don’t even notice the other couples around you until a loud cheer erupts from Vi’s friends. You glance around, and your heart almost skips a beat—Vi has pulled you in for a kiss in the middle of the dance floor, as casual as breathing. Her lips are soft, yet demanding, her hands firm but gentle as they hold you close.

The crowd’s not shy about making noise. Whistles. Clapping. A few of her teammates shout, “About time!” and the rest of them burst into applause, making you feel like the whole world is in on this moment.

But then it’s just you and her again.

Vi pulls back, her grin as cocky as ever, eyes glinting with mischief. “You’re incredible,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Her thumb gently caresses your cheek. You can feel the weight of her words, the sincerity behind them, and it hits you—this night is more than just a celebration. She’s here. For you. And there’s no doubt in your mind that she’s serious about it.

You smirk, giving her a playful shove. “You better stop, you’re gonna make me blush.”

Vi laughs, pulling you closer again, resting her chin on your shoulder. “Let ‘em look. They’re jealous. No one’s gonna have a night like this. It’s ours, babe.”

Later, after the music has died down, and most of the students are either too drunk or too tired to keep going, you and Vi slip away from the chaos. You find a quiet spot outside, away from the flashing lights and the sound of laughter.

The night sky is clear, the stars shining brightly above you. You sit down on the grass, your legs outstretched as you lean back to look at the constellations. Vi sits next to you, her hand brushing against yours.

[shadow4-1]

(Based on a true story) I'm just imagining being a military contracted funeral director who's responsible for handling Soap's funeral arrangements.

Apparently, depsite how much John MacTavish loved his family, he listed his Captain as next of kin in his will. You sit in the tiny arrangement conference room in a nice suit, surrounded by three distraught men in bloody tactical gear.

The giant Lieutenant in a skull mask is crying. Not sobbing, but just crying. As he blinks, big wet tears drip down in between the teeth's ridges. Even when he speaks his voice is still the same, even tone.

The one in the blue cap is bouncy and forcibly stoic. His jaw is set so hard you can see his forehead muscles clench. He pretends like you don't exist but you can feel his eyes on you every time you look away.

And the Captain...he's blank faced. He shows no emotion. He absent-mindedly flips through the packets of information in front of him. He asks honest, curious questions about the cremation authorization forms. It's obvious he's buried more than his fair share of people.

"You're not going to cut up his insides, right?" The blue cap asks. He catches you off guard, but also his squad.

"Garrick. Now is not the time." Captain warns.

You butt in, knowing damn well this won't end well without some mild intervention.

"You've selected a direct cremation package for Mr. MacTavish." You nod, gesturing to the papers in front of you. "Mr. MacTavish hasn't been autopsied, so...no. Nothing but cremation will be done to his body."

The blue cap sinks in his chair in relief. The Captain scoffs at him, but based on his and the Lieutenant's reaction, they also relax with that knowledge. You center yourself before forcing eye contact with every man in the room. You manage to get all of their attention.

"I'm here for you guys. If you need anything or have question, please let me know." You nod, smiling softly. "Mr. MacTavish will be well cared for. I promise."

The rest of the conference goes normally. The Captain signs the papers and thanks you for your hard work. You shake their hands and show them to the door. You offer the Lieutenant your suit's handkerchief on the way out. You expect him to give it back but he just takes it.

Little do you know, that night he can't stop himself from crying into it. Your little bit of genuine sweetness makes him want to keep living despite the fact the loss of Johnny makes him want to die.

[fatalhoon]

jisung headcanons — random relationship things

warnings | not much, very fluffy! one mention of reader being smaller than him, one swear word, one tiny nsfw mention, g!n overall but reader is described as having hair long enough to tie up/braid and does their makeup

a.n | i need him :((

this cute lil mf i adore him

first of all he’s such a silly little goober

he’s shy so it takes him a while to get used to being completely authentic around you

but eventually he’ll relax when he knows for certain that you love him exactly how he is and he can be himself

he strikes me as the type to do the dumbest little things just so he can hear you laugh

a few examples:

sometimes when you’re kissing, out of nowhere he’ll blow air into your mouth to puff up your cheeks

he never does it during more serious and truly intimate moments (he can read the room)

but when he does it catches you off guard every time and it always sends you into a giggle fit because its just so stupid

you’ll go in to kiss him again but now you think he’s just gonna do it again even if he promises he won’t so you can’t continue without laughing

“i’m not even doing anything!” he pouts

but seeing you so giggly about something he did just makes him so happy (and proud)

if you’re sitting somewhere he’ll come over and just

sit on you

straight up knock the wind out of you and shuffle around, groaning like he can’t get comfortable

and act like he’s completely oblivious to the fact he’s literally using you as a cushion

he’ll pull out his phone and text you like “hey where are you :(“

and he pretends he can’t hear you if you try and talk to him

its already really hard for him to keep a straight face when he does this so all you have to do is tickle him

then he has to acknowledge you

“omg hi i didn’t even see you there!! :))”

in the same vein, he’ll come up to you while you’re standing and just flop his full weight onto you in a hug

if you clock it before it happens you’ll have to adjust your stance or grab onto something so you don’t fall over

but if you don’t then uh. good luck soldier

(just kidding he’ll catch you)

you do the same thing to him but he’s bigger and it doesn’t have the same effect on him

he loves it anyway though, he’ll drop anything he’s doing to wrap an arm around your waist

another thing he likes to do is use your hands to do things for him

like he’ll grab your hands and move them around, so really its still him doing it he’s just using your hands instead

mostly when he’s on his phone or if he’s playing a game

he holds your hand which holds his phone, and grabs your finger to scroll through his feed

or he’ll have you in front of him and gives you the game controller, reaching around you to puppet your hands

if you’re wearing a hoodie he shoves his arms through the sleeves with yours to make it easier

you’re more than likely wearing his hoodie anyway so he says its only fair that you share it

i’m a physical touch jisung truther if you couldn’t tell

he must always be touching you in some capacity

scientists have not proven why yet but the working theory is that jisung is a certified cutie

he just loves being close to you!! so physical affection is the best way to remind himself that you’re here with him :’)

canonically, jisung is a wanderer

he’ll trail around with no real destination in mind

he just has lots of thoughts in his head and likes to walk while he sorts them out

sometimes he’ll hold your hand and make you walk around with him if he’s feeling clingy (which is often)

other times he’ll just let you be

but he always kisses your cheek or your head when he passes by

absolutely the type to cling to you while you’re in the middle of a task and shuffle around the house with you

its just a little hard for him to sit still sometimes

even if he is sitting still, his hands are not

and i reiterate, he likes to be touching you in some way, so more often than not he’ll be playing with your fingers or your hair

jisung is also a canon rambler

mostly to himself

if you’re there he doesn’t expect a reply because really he’s just talking to himself

but if you have an opinion on the topic he’ll always listen

if he’s talking about something and you happen to fall asleep he keeps the conversation going by himself

once you told him that his talking made its way into your dream and you had a full blown rant about aliens with him while you were asleep

it was the cutest thing he’s ever heard

sometimes he’ll be so excited to say something that he’ll cut you off

he doesn’t mean to, it just comes out a little sooner than he means for it to, and he always apologizes

he gets better about that as time goes on

he has a habit of imitating things you say

not in the sense that he’s mocking you, he just likes the way it sounds when you say it so he tries to parrot it

he’ll do that with certain facial expressions you make too

jisung is a curious boy, and he loves to learn everything he can about the people he loves

he watches your favorite movies and shows with you, he takes the time to participate in your hobbies, he lets you take him to all of your favorite places

so he can get a glimpse into the aspects of your life that make you happy

his favorite thing though is watching you play your favorite video games

if you’re gaming he insists that you sit on his lap or between his legs so he can wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder

he’s a little bit of a backseat gamer but you don’t really mind

its a bit annoying when he nags you about continuously losing a fight or dying on the same level (you know he means well)

but you love the input he gives on more slice of life type games, like decorating your animal crossing island or farming your crops in stardew valley

he did however just about have a heart attack when you showed him how many ways you knew how to kill a sim

co op games are one of his favorite ways to spend time with you as well

especially if one or both of you are absolutely shit at it (which if we’re being honest is like 95% of the time)

overcooked, however, is dangerous territory

too many soups burned

anyway, his curiosity doesn’t stop at just your hobbies and interests

even mundane things like daily habits and routines are things that jisung wants to know all about

along the way he’s picked up on such small things that you barely remember ever mentioning them

all of your preferences are filed away in his head

whenever you’re doing something like your hair or makeup or skincare, he’ll sit with you and ask what every aspect of it is or does

eventually he’ll ask if you can teach him how to do them for you

it definitely required a little.. practice

but no one is perfect the first time they try something new!!

(you had to tell him that, even he didn’t let you leave the house the first time he did your makeup)

he gets better though, especially doing your hair!

to the point that he got tired of doing simple ponytails and braids and took it upon himself to research new hairstyles to teach himself

you found it very endearing :’)

jisung loves to shower together

less in a sexual way (though he isn’t opposed) and more because it feels so intimate and domestic to him

and he adores when you wash his hair for him

feeling you gently massaging in the shampoo and scratching at his scalp is probably his favorite feeling in the whole world

in conclusion

jisung would be so sweet and clingy i love him to death :((