#and im tired of it being shrugged off as “being hard on players”

[blusical]

currently thinking of how abusive some hockey coaches are and how players are supposed to act like that sort of stuff is normal

[jqmalikhsgib]

astrology

one

in most stories being the youngest kid means being the sheltered child. everyone would see the baby of the family being favored more than the eldest or middle child. for you, it wasn’t ever like that.

you grew up in an classic middle class family. your mother was a prosecutor and your father was a detective. your older brother followed in his fathers footsteps. he went to college, worked his ass off, and became an officer.

and your sister became a lawyer just like your mom. she was damn good at it too.

you on the other hand, you had different dreams. you never wanted to be cooped up in a bubble. your dreams were to travel the world, draw the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen, meet new people, discover yourself.

when you graduated high school you saved up enough money over the years to do so. you took different jobs just to pay bills and continue to move along.

your parents never thought it was a great idea. they’d always scold you to go to college. they’d get your siblings along in it but it just never worked. you loved your free spirited life style.

you visited your family every once in a while. but after ten years of being free, ten years of constantly hearing the same things over and over, ten years of nonstop get bugged over when you’re gonna grow up and turn your life around, you were tired.

you stopped going to every christmas, every thanksgiving, every birthday, any holiday. you’d come up with some excuse. telling your family you had a shift at whatever job you had.

truth was, you needed to be away. your family back home may not have understood. besides your best friend, you didn’t really keep in contact with anyone.

spencer was the only one who stood beside you. he knew that you had other dreams and aspirations. he never judged you for drifting off and exploring the world. he was the one to encourage you.

“yn, remember what you told me when i had a hard time deciding to skip a few grades? you said that if i didn’t, id always wonder. you told me im too smart to be in seventh grade and i needed to get off my ass and go show those high school idiots how smart i truly am. you’re an amazing artist, yn! i know you can make a name for yourself.”

that was the only thing you needed to hear before you packed your bags, bought a plane ticket, and began your journey. you never regret your decision.

it’s why you’re so glad to be in virginia. getting to see spencer again made you happy. you haven’t seen your best friends since he made it into the behavioral analysis program. you knew spencer was beyond smart. knowing that he was working with the smartest people, fighting crime, and kicking ass, made you proud.

you smile at the guard up front. “hi, im here to see doctor spencer reid.”

the guard asked for a form of identification before smiling and giving you a visitors badge. spencer made sure to let them know you’d be coming by.

when you finally got to his floor your eyes widened with how big it truly was. you never thought you’d ever be here. standing in front of a team full of people who study human behavior.

“yn!?” spencer runs to his friend.

“woah, slow down there pretty boy.”

you opens your arms wide as spencer lifts you up and spins you around. you giggled before he sets you down.

“hi, genius!”

“god, i miss you.”

“miss you too bud. this place is incredible, spence. how do you guys get any work around here done. i wouldn’t know how to sit still.”

spencer just shrugs as he walks the two of you over to his desk. you spot two individuals.

one of them was a woman. she was beautiful. her dark locks were slowly fading to grey, but she definitely rocked it.

the other was a tall, muscular build man. he had a cocky smirk on his face. he was definitely handsome. you can tell he’s a bit of a player but ultimately a sweetheart.

“well pretty boy, you gonna introduce us?”

spencer smiles. “guys, this is my best friend since diapers, yn! yn thats emily and derek.”

you gently waved.

“hi. it’s nice to finally meet you. spencer talks bout you guys all the time. im glad he has someone else to bug besides me.” you playfully hit his arm.

“you must be someone special. reid doesn’t hug anyone. says—”

“it’s safer to kiss? he’s been saying that since we were children. i think he came up with that when he had a crush on our next door neighbor, dawn.”

“hey! it’s an actual fact!” spencer defends.

you playfully roll your eyes. “when are you off, butthead? i wanna look at places while im here.”

“im off this weekend.”

“you’re moving down here?!”

“yeah. spencer constantly tells me how great this place is. it’s gotta be better than nevada if it’s got spencer’s vote of approval.”

“it is a great state. you’ll love it. if you need help finding something im sure i could be of service.”derek flirts.

“thanks. i should probably let you all get back to work. ill—”

“we have a case!” you get interrupted. you slowly lift your head and your heart skips a beat.

he stares at you with a scowl on his face. you assumed it was a permanent one. he was tall, had a beautiful head of hair, his face was clean shaven, his suit was definitely dry cleaned. he looked like a man you’d see in a fairytale. like how you’d imagine prince eric from the little mermaid to look. he was breathtaking.

“i’ll probably be gone for a few days. will you be okays exploring the city without me?” spencer breaks you out of your trance.

“um—yeah. just be safe. and call me!”

spencer smiles as he squeezes your arm before walking away. you give your heart a second to go back to normal speed.

you think you’re gonna love it here.

so, yes it’s an age gap between them. listen, im not gonna be like some people and say i have a huge problem with age gaps, because i do not!

yes, at times it can be gross. when someone is freshly eighteen and dating someone in their mid to late twenties or older, it’s gross

if someone knew the person when they were a child and begin dating them. even if they’re in their twenties, it’s gross

but as someone who’s 25 and has only dated men older since i was like 22, i don’t see much of a problem as long as they were two consenting adults.

that being said, read it if you want and if you don’t, scroll past it.

reader is 28

aaron is 44

[player1064]

Carra fucking off to skiing and David and Gary are immediately going all ♥ ♥ ♥ come get your man back James

So for a prompt if you still do them: Everyone is sick and tired of carraville dancing around each other but being cowards to actually do anything about it, so to get things moving Becks starts dropping hints that he might make a move on Gary.

(next time they meet gary's neck is full of hickeys and carra is very smug. they are even more insufferable than before. roy is rolling his eyes so hard he is able to see his own brain)

LOVE the idea of becks also being in on a plot to get them together. and of everyone asking becks to do it for them bc they don't want to/are too scared/lazy/dumb to do it themselves

---

“David,” says Scholesy.

“Scholesy,” says David.

“David, he’s driving me insane. I seriously cannot take it anymore.”

David doesn’t bother asking who ‘he’ is, or what he’s driving Scholesy insane about, because it’d be the same answer as it’s been for the past god knows how many years.

“I’m sure the two of them will figure it out eventually,” he offers sympathetically, to which Scholesy just groans in frustration.

“I’ll be long dead before that ‘appens.”

*

“Becks, I swear, they’re getting worse by the day.”

He and Keaney are sat with Wrighty at a little table in the media lounge at Wembley, watching Gary joke around with Carragher a few feet away. The two of them seem to be in their own little bubble, completely oblivious to the others around them. Their constant laughter is loud and annoying, especially since as far as David can tell neither of them is actually saying anything that funny.

It's kind of sweet, really.

“I think it’s sweet,” Wrighty says. “Don’t you remember how intense they both were as players? This is a massive improvement.”

“Yeah, but it’s driving me nuts! I mean, this is one thing, but it’s all the stupid little sighs and the – the longing looks, it’s enough to make you lose the will to live.”

In the past few months, David has had to listen to complaints about Gary and Carragher from every single one of his old friends from United, as well as some old England teammates that have worked with them at Sky or on The Overlap. They all seem to be under the impression that something needs to be done about it, that they can’t just let it run its natural course.

They also all seem to be in agreement that the person who needs to be doing something about it is David.

He wonders absently if it’s not too late to hand the ‘Gaz’s best friend’ card off to somebody else.

*

“So, Carragher.”

“What about him?”

Gary blinks at David from across the table, and if David didn’t know him so well he’d think he was being deliberately obtuse. Unfortunately, David does know him, well enough to know that he really is just that stupid.

He shoots him a Look, which has the desired effect of making Gary scowl at him, and then he says “nothin’, nothin’. Just noticed you two’ve been working together a lot lately.”

Gary shrugs. “He’s a good partner, to be fair. People like our dynamic. And he’s smart, though don’t tell ‘im I said that.”

“You spend much time with him outside of work?”

Gary squints, his face scrunching up in confusion. “Outside of work?” he asks, like it’s a completely foreign concept to him. Like there is no outside of work.

Which, it’s Gary, so for him there probably isn’t.

Maybe David needs to try a different approach.

*

The next time Gary is in London to cover a game with Sky, David shoots him a quick text asking dinner?, which Gary responds to with a thumbs up and the name of his hotel. Whether that’s because he wants to eat there or because he wants David to come pick him up he’s not sure, but either way he finds himself pulling up outside the Corinthia hotel that Friday evening, dressed in his smartest jeans and an unfussy old blazer.

He goes into the bar area, thinking he’ll order a drink and wait for Gary to come down, but Gary’s already there, sat at the bar with Carragher.

Perfect.

David meanders over to them, feeling slightly smug that he’s still enough to tear Gary’s attention away from Jamie, that Gary still gives him a glowy smile when he sees him approaching.

When he gets to them he shakes Jamie’s hand in greeting, pressing his other hand to the small of Gary’s back as he does so. Gary startles momentarily at the contact, but he quickly shakes it off and leans into the touch, beaming up at David.

“Becks!” he greets. “Me ‘n Carra were just catchin’ up while I was waitin’ for you to arrive. He’s stayin’ here this weekend, too, y’see.”

David notices that while Gary’s nattering away, Jamie’s eyes are fixed on where his hand is resting on Gary’s back, his lips pressed tightly together. David catches his eye and winks, giving him his prettiest smile.

He figures he might as well go all in, get the whole thing over and done with sooner rather than later, so he bends his head down to kiss the top of Gary’s head while he carries on chatting nonsense about tomorrow’s game.

The kiss stops Gary in his tracks, makes him blush a familiar shade of pink and then preen a bit, smiling up at David warmly.

Meanwhile, Jamie’s looking between the two of them like he’s ready to kill someone. Gary doesn’t spare him a second glance.

“Wha’d’ya fancy eating, Gaz?” David asks softly, pretending not to have noticed Jamie’s reaction.

“Whatever you like,” Gary says, just like he always does when the two of them go out to eat. “They’ve a pretty decent restaurant here, if you don’t fancy goin’ out. Otherwise, you prob’ly know the restaurants around London better’n I do, don’t you?”

*

David accidentally-on-purpose runs into him at the stadium the next day, and once again asks if he fancies going out for dinner.

“Erm,” Gary replies, reaching his hand up to rub at a dark patch on his neck. “I dunno, really, not sure if there’s anythin’ else Sky wants us for tonight, y’know?”

“Carragher can come too, if he wants,” David offers, rolling his eyes with a smirk at the way Gary instantly brightens.

“Oh!” he says, a blush rising up his cheeks, “oh, alright then! Think we’re both free, now that I think about it. I’ll just go check with ‘im and let you know.”

[ppersonna]

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults. 

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. 

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” 

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead. 

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness. 

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts. 

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag. 

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams. 

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer. 

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words. 

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists. 

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares. 

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer. 

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces. 

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”. 

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?” 

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches. 

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic. 

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help. 

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.  

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?” 

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply. 

“Yes, I would l-love that.” 

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away. 

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey! 

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.  

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.  

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. 

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?” 

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes. 

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.  

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.” 

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.  

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off. 

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.  

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer​ 

[sorryjustafangirl]

what home is

a/n: this is my submission for @antoineroussel 's summer fic exchange 2k21! thank you for organizing this all demi. i recieved @timstuetzle and i am so excited to finally share this! im sorry it's so late but i had a lot of fun writing for Tim and i hope i did him justice! i made this a gender neutral reader again, so please enjoy my take on some friends to enemies to lovers :)

pairing: tim stützle x reader

word count: 18k+ (holey moley)

warnings: some angst, set in no covid-universe, a few swears, an odd timeline

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and real person fiction if you don’t like that, please don’t read! the banner is made by me, with photos found from pinterest and the transparent made by @art-and-the-hockeys (thank you!!!)

The start of the season was your favourite. The chill of the rink, the sound of skate edges on the ice, the smell of skate sharpening- it was all so familiar. As an analyst, the start was the best. There were new lineups, new plays, and a chance to try new things. Considering this was your first year as a real analyst, not just checking over others' work, you were excited. You got to actually help to build a Stanley Cup winning team.

What you didn’t love was how everyone seemed to lose their heads and decide to run around the arena. You’d been looking for the coach of the Ottawa Senators for the past twenty minutes. You’d think the man would be in his office the first day back, but no. He decides to take a stroll to who-knows-where and leaves you to follow invisible breadcrumbs.

Eventually, you found yourself on one of the lower levels. You continued down the hallway, entering an open space with concrete floors. The bustle of the new season was in full swing as you swerved between various people working like gears in a machine. You tried to do your best to stay out of other people’s way but you still ended up walking into a hard surface.

“Oof!” Shit. Hard surfaces don’t usually talk. You looked up at what you ran into and saw two men staring at you. Both were wearing Senators hoodies but one was a taller blond and the other a slightly shorter brunet. The brunet has a backwards snapback on but that wasn't what made you stop in your tracks. It was his eyes. They were soft and welcoming, something like a home cooked meal, but they had a glint of adventure in them.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I wasn’t really looking where I was going. I am so sorry.” You apologized to the blond you ran into.

“Hey, all good. I’m-”

“Number 7.” You turned toward the brunet. “And...number 18, right?” When they both gave you a weird look, you shrugged. “I’m an analyst here so, uh, you’re just numbers to me.”

“Okay, ouch but you are the reason we’re going to be winning more games this season, so I'll give it to you. I’m Brady, and this is Jimmy.” The blond gestured to himself first, before gesturing beside him.

“It’s Tim, actually.”

You introduced yourself to the two players, before looking around the hallways. “Um, would either of you happen to know where the coach is? I can’t find him,” You held up the file folders in your hands. “I’ve got new numbers for him.”

“Oh yeah he’s probably close to the ice, we’ll show you.” Brady started down a hallway, both you and Tim falling in stride behind him. “So Numbers-”

“-Y/n-” You glared at Brady for the nickname, rolling your eyes as he continued on. From your peripheral vision, you saw the corners of Tim's mouth turn up.

“-If you don’t mind me saying….either you look really good for your age, or you aren’t old enough to be working here,” He continued, giving a glance your way.

You looked down at your shoes and gave a sigh. “I get that a lot, and I am young-er than my colleagues but I assure you, I am qualified to work for this organization.”

“Wasn’t doubting that, just seeing how much I get to tease ya. Jimmy’s the rookie,” He elbowed him and Tim tried to swerve around it, only to bump into a stack of pylons. Brady and you shared a grin at his expense. “So he gets all the teasing. Same for the numbers people. You’re the rookie.” He shrugged

“Well, I’m not actually a rookie anymore. This is my second year here,” You mentioned, looking towards the two guys. Brady looked impressed whereas Tim’s eyes went large and his jaw slack a little.

“How?” He asked, and you laughed. The three of you turned a corner, and you walked slightly faster to talk.

“I graduated high school pretty early. And then took my statistics undergrad at the University of Ottawa. I minored in sports studies and I met your GM at a conference for the department. When he found out I was in Ottawa alone, he kinda took me under his wing, checked in every now and again. When I graduated two years ago, he offered me an analyst position and I was lucky enough to land it. I love working here, even if I’m way younger than everyone else. Last year, I stayed in my office a lot, double checking people’s work but this year, they gave me more responsibility. I’m excited for the challenge.”

“You are going to be great.” Tim said, meeting your eyes, his gaze showing that his comment was genuine. You ducked away from his gaze but muttered a ‘thanks’. The three of you rounded another corner, Brady ducking out to talk to a reporter, but Tim said he’d help you find the coach.

You settled into a comfortable silence as you walked beside each other through the chilled hallways. He abruptly took a left turn, cutting you off and causing you to bump into him. You immediately apologized, this being the second time today you’d run into a hockey player.

“‘S my fault, I’m still getting used to the new arena,” He said, a sheepish smile appearing on his face. He nodded his head down the hallway, as a silent ‘after you’ and you started walking. As you got further down, you realized Tim walked you out to the bench. The light became brighter, the air a little crisper, and the floor turned from a concrete grey to a bright red. Your eyes wandered up, admiring the view from down here. You’d be truthful earlier, you’d only ever visited your office. But from down here, you could see everything- the thousands of seats, the banners hanging from the ceiling, the crystal white ice. You stood close to the wall, as if to try to intimidate a fly on a wall, seeing everything as if you weren’t there. You could feel Tim could up from behind you, letting you take it all in for the first time.

“That’s Coach,” He leaned closer to you as he pointed across the ice towards someone in a tracksuit. You nodded and although Tim dropped his hand, he stayed close to you. The coach eventually noticed the two of you and started to skate over to the bench. Tim cleared his throat and you looked at him.

“I got to- I have to go now, but, um, I’ll see you around?” You nodded to his question, a soft smile on your lips. He rocked back and forth on his heels, as if he knew he had to leave but he kept getting pulled towards you. “Good luck with the season.”

“Good luck with yours too.” At that he turned away from you, and you turned to the coach, pulling out your file folder to talk with him.

***

A week or two later and the start of the season was upon the Canadian Tire Centre. The home opener was in a few days and your week had been hectic, trying to get notes from practices and implement what you saw into your analysis. After a morning full of spreadsheets, you decided to take your lunch break in your sanctuary. Last year, the arena felt too big to stick around in on your lunch break. So you had headed outside, where you discovered a small hiking trail about a ten minute drive from work. It quickly became a place where you went whenever you needed to clear your head. And after the morning you had, it was the perfect place to go, so you hopped in your car and started towards it.

At the top of the hill, you put the car in park, grabbed your lunch bag and started towards your spot. It was past the picnic tables that had a nice view of the suburbs, but it wasn't secluded. Your spot was off the beaten path, but there was a small ledge with a perfect view of the arena, highway, and surrounding green spaces. You turn the corner, ducking under a tree branch, ready to exhale the heck of the morning you had.

But there was already someone sitting in your spot. Their head was down, but you recognized the logo and number 18 on their hoodie. Cautiously, you approached him.

“18...Is it okay if I sit here?” You asked, and his head shot up. He shot you a small smile and quick nod. You sat down, placing your bag in front of you, taking out a granola bar.

“You can call me Tim, you know. That is my name,” You gave him a shy smile and you could feel your cheeks heat up at his comment.

“I didn’t think anyone knew about this place, Tim,” You mentioned quietly. It felt weird, to be honest, to be sharing your spot with someone, but it didn’t feel like he was intruding.

“My city in Germany has a lot of parks. There’s a forest near my house where I’d go when I needed a break. This is the closest I could find near the rink. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Just don’t go telling the whole team about our place,” you winked at him and took a bite of your snack.

“I can keep a secret, don’t worry.” He laughed lightly and sent you a smile.

“I don’t know if you remember me but-”

“You’re the analyst, you graduated super early right? Y/n, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” You smiled at him. “So, how are you liking Ottawa?”

“It’s alright, I haven’t seen very much of it. The ice is very good. My house is nice.” He shrugged and you gaped at him.

“That’s all you’ve seen? So you haven’t been to Parliament Hill or ByWard market or…?” you trailed off when you saw him biting his bottom lip and slowly shaking his head. “Well, you are missing out, you should go see the city sometime.”

“Do you think you could show me around? You seem to know all the best places,” He offered. You met his eyes and nodded. He dug his phone out of his pocket, passing it over to you. You raised your eyebrows at the gesture but he just pushed his phone closer to you. Silently, you imputed your number, placing a small graph emoji beside your contact name. You handed it back to him and a small smirk graced his face when he saw the emoji, before he pursed his lips at the device. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Sorry, it’s all good. Thank you. It’s- I have to go back now, but I’ll text you, yeah?” You nodded as he handed back your phone. He walked towards the parking lot, but turned around to wave at you before he disappeared around the bend.

Later that day as you sat in the stands, a clipboard and pen in your hands, you got a text from an unknown number.

Hi

It's 18 :)

You chuckled at his use of his number and texted him back.

i thought you said i could call you tim? :(

also it’s practice?? how are you on your phone?

It starts in a couple minutes

your teammates are already on the ice

Spying on me already??

it’s literally my job to watch you practice

Guess I'll see you in the stands then :)

Oh and I'm free this weekend for that showing of the city, team bonding’s on friday

i’ll check my schedule and get back to you

now get out on the ice or you’re going to be late :)

***

You had checked your schedule, and agreed to meet that Saturday. You said you’d pick him up since you knew more of the city. You didn't want to be late so you arrived five minutes early in front of Tim's place. He walked out in his signature backwards snapback, some curls poking out the front, and a monochromatic beige outfit. Waving animatedly at you, he jogged to the car, his ever present smile on his face.

The twenty minutes ride into the city was quiet yet comfortable. A few words were exchanged about how each other’s day was so far but nothing groundbreaking. The low hum of the engine filled the silence as you drove into the city.

After parking in a Superstore (‘Free parking in downtown Ottawa is hard to come by, Tim. We’re parking in the grocery store parking lot’) and walking a few blocks, you come to the far end of the market. Lined with local businesses and brick streets, it felt homey. Tim smiled as it reminded him of back home.

“So, what are we going to see first? Your school?” He asked as the two of you walked along the streets. You laughed and shook your head.

“Pfft no. It isn’t all that interesting. I figured we’d see some of my favourite places, if that’s okay?” He assured you it was and the two of you continued through the streets, Tim with his head down as you passed people. He wasn't famous just yet, but in Canada you find hockey fans at every corner. Soon, you arrived in a small plaza with coloured picnic tables and muskoka chairs.

“Ta-da!” You gestured to the large block letters that spelled ‘Ottawa’ in the middle of the space. “It’s not much, but you’ve got to be a tourist in your own city at least once right?” He laughed along with you and you got out your phone, ready to take a picture of him so he could send it to his parents. You thought he would want a picture of him but he was quick to insist you had to be in the picture as well.

“I’m sorry, but would you mind taking a picture of us?” You asked one of the girls who were taking turns with the Ottawa sign.

“Oh sure!” You stood beside him, between the two ‘T’s in Ottawa, his arm slung over your shoulders. You smiled and looked up at Tim to see him smiling as well- and not one of those classic boy coy half smiles, a genuine one. She took a few landscape and a few portrait ones before handing your phone back. “You two are such a cute couple!”

Before you could correct the girl, Tim answered for you. “We’re just friends actually.” She apologized profusely before rejoining her group. You shuffled your feet as an awkward silence overcame you for the first time since you’d met. Your body shivered and you promptly changed the subject.

“Hey, you hungry?” He shrugged and nodded. You nodded and led him away from the sign, through a few back alleys lined with a few merchants, home artists and such. You entered a building, bustling with people. It was long and narrow, with brick flooring and merchants on either side of the middle. There were lots of people, ranging from people doing their weekly grocery shopping to tourists looking for souvenirs. You weaved between strollers and friend groups, Tim grabbing your hand to avoid getting lost. He kept his head low, hoping it would disguise him enough. This day was about you and him, not you, him and the hockey world. Eventually, the two of you exited the indoor market and came to a small opening. Instead of staying in the opening, you turned left, tugging Tim across the street to two small shacks, one red and one blue. The red one had a classic fairytale vibe to it, with beige wainscotting, red painted window frames, and topped with a white and light brown canopy over the window. Underneath the canopy, there was a string of small Canadian flags.

“Do you trust me?” He arched one of his eyebrows but nodded. “I’ll be right back.” Confused, Tim stood there as you walked up the window, spending no time looking at the menu as you ordered. He looked above the shack to see in fancy lettering the word BeaverTails. When you came back, you were holding two paper containers and had a smile on your face. He looked at the sign and then back to the bags in your hands.

“A beaver’s… tail?” You laughed at him and handed him his BeaverTail.

“It’s not actually a beaver’s tail. It’s just a fried pastry that looks like one. They come in lots of flavours but I got you the best one, cinnamon sugar.” You could tell he was hesitant but bit into his and you took a bite of your own.

Almost instantly, he groaned. “Do you take every guy here? Wow. Oh my god,” He got cinnamon smeared over his chin and you laughed as he tried to wipe it off while holding his pastry.

“Hilarious Tim, but I’ll have you know you’re like my only friend here. So… no I don’t take anyone here.” He scoffed and you raised your eyebrows.

“You’re joking. How do you not have other friends? You’re great,”

“I started university as a 16 year math major. It’s not a surprise people didn’t want to talk to me. But it’s okay. I’m used to it by now.”

“Don’t you have people from home come and visit?”

You scoffed. “I don’t really get along with my mum. We moved around a lot when I was younger and I always sorta resented her for not seeing how it affected me. And then, when I got accepted to school out here, she sold the house and started travelling. Last I talked to her, she was in Tahiti.” He raised his eyebrows.

“What about your dad? Or brothers or sisters?” You swallowed your piece of BeaverTail before answering him.

“I have an older sister, Dani. But she’s eight years older than me, so we're not the closest. She checks in every week or so because she knows my mum doesn't. She’s never come out to visit though, she runs her own business back in Seattle.”

“It must be nice to have someone though. Especially when you were growing up. What about your dad?”

“I don’t- I don’t talk about my dad.” You picked at the pastry before changing the topic. “C’mon, you have to see this place.” You gestured to a side street and the two of you made your way towards your favourite destination. You exited beside a taller building and you pressed the button to allow the two of you to cross the street. As you were waiting for the light to turn, you turned to Tim.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t have any siblings then?”

“No, but the guys at the rink were like my brothers so it wasn’t bad.” The light turned red, and the ‘walk’ light turned on. You made your way across, staying close to each other as people walked both ways.

“Hockey tends to do that,”

“Is that why you picked to work in hockey?”

You glared at him as you made it across the street. “That’s personal.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends share personal stuff.”

“That’s… it’s just different.” You shook your head and lowered the volume of your voice. “Besides, we’re here.” The two of you had stopped in front of some shallow steps that led to a tall archway, with black statues underneath and on top of the arch. It had some engravings on it, both small and large letters. From where they were standing, Tim could make out some numbers, but not well enough to understand the significance. Behind the monument and slightly to the right was the green tipped roof and gothic architecture of the Parliament building.

“What is this place?” He tilted his head as he looked at the arch in the middle of the square. To him, it wasn’t anything special, perhaps another statue of one of the colonizers of the country.

“It’s Canada’s war memorial.” You whispered, and he nodded, clasping his hands in front of his body and lowering his head. “When I was going to school, I’d come here at least once a week.”

His head stayed where it was but he raised his eyes to meet yours. “Why?”

“I know it’s not exactly everyone’s favourite place...because I know so many people died for the country, but for me, it’s a place of silence. Of reflection. It reminds me to be grateful for everything I have. Some days school would be really bad, so this place was perfect to sit and remember that life isn’t bad at all. Not when I was in a safe country, not when I had an education, not when I had a warm house to go back to.”

He nodded. “That seems...perfect. Some days are too loud, there’s too many people saying stuff. I get that.” His voice was quiet as well, as he lifted his head to focus on the stonework and engravings. The two of you stood in silence in front of the memorial for a few minutes more before you tugged on his arm.

“See that building?” You leaned in close to him, your finger extending to point at a building in the distance, a little taller than the ones around it. “That’s the university’s mathematics and physics department. I had most of my classes in that building.” He nodded, leaning in closer to you, your heads almost touching. You lowered your hand and nodded with your head towards the way you came.

“C’mon, we’re not done yet. You’ve got to see the Parliament building.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed left towards it. You quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him right. “I’m the tour guide, remember? Trust me, there’s a better view.” You dropped his hand as he started to walk in time with you but you had to shove it in your pocket to replace the heat his hands gave you.

A quick ten minutes walk later and you stood atop a hill overlooking the river. It was a large park with benches and an eccentric art installation in the corner. You walked close to the peak of the hill and stopped, breathing in the fresh air.

“There is Canada’s capital building. It’s nicer to see it from here than from the front where there’s a bunch of tourists. Besides, from here, you get to see more of the architecture.” The building was across the river, its massiveness more pronounced from your viewpoint. There was a dome nearest the river that was covered in flying buttresses, each support beam having intricate details that stood out. The clock tower and green tinted roof completed the gothic look.

“This view is better. Quieter. It reminds me more of home,” You bump your shoulder against his lightly.

“Glad you like it.” The two of you stood in silence until Tim shivered, at which case you decided you should start heading back. If the hockey player was cold, it was cold enough for you too.

The walk and drive back was uneventful, aside from the two of you passing jokes back and forth. When it came to drop him off, he unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t make an effort to leave the vehicle.

“How much for our snack? I’ll pay you back,”

You waved him off. “It was my treat, don’t worry about it.” He pursed his lips, then shook it. He pulled out his phone from his pocket. A few seconds later, your phone dinged. You glared at him as you opened the text to see an e-transfer. Before you could protest, he cut you off.

“You never said I couldn’t pay for your gas," He laughed, and despite your annoyance at the loophole, you found yourself laughing along with him. He had that effect on you; he seemed to be able to ease any tension you held. “I had a good time today. Maybe we could meet again sometime?”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you at the rink?” He nodded before getting out of your car, waving like he did that morning as you drove off to your place. When you arrived home, you saw a new text from him.

Can you send those pictures you took today?

You tried to suppress a smile, sending them over to which he responded with a ‘Thank youuuu’. You set your phone on your nightstand and turned off the light. Despite your efforts, you fell asleep with a smile on your face from a perfect day with a great person.

***

“Hey, Numbers!” You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Brady sticking his head out of the dressing room. He had taken a liking to calling you that, especially as you had started hanging around the house more. It was nice, movie nights and sometimes you’d take a pre-game nap with Tim, you had even stayed for lunch at Tim’s request. At this point, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Brady to shout the nickname from anywhere. Practice had ended and you had given your notes to the coach about what to focus on for the Toronto game. “You didn’t happen to see Jimmy, did you?” When you shook your head, his face scrunched into a small frown.

“Where’d he go? Didn’t media like just end?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t even bother to change from media, he just stalked out. He didn’t say anything to any of the guys, so I thought you might’ve seen him.”

“I’ll keep a lookout for him,” You told Brady before he returned to finish dressing and you returned to your office. But even after you’d settled back into your work, there was a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t quite place. Sending a quick text off to Tim, asking where he was, you dove back into work. But it only took five minutes before you were checking your phone, seeing if he’d read the text or responded. When neither happened, you gave him a call. It sent you straight to voicemail and you hung up before you could leave a message. The feeling in your stomach grew and you packed up your bag, knowing no more work would get done tonight. It wasn’t like Tim to sulk or get in his head; he was a generally happy guy. Something must have set him off for him to be acting this way -- even with you. And if it was something this big, there was only one spot he would’ve gone.

“Brady said you stalked out of media. Figured I’d find you here.” He turned around at the sound of your voice, his shoulders dropping a little. He shrugged, which you took as your cue to take a seat beside him at your lookout space. The sun was setting, the golden hour light reflecting on his stress lines, and the sky was littered with wispy clouds.

Your hands were in the pockets of your hoodie, your legs tucked together. Despite being here for close to six years, the Canadian chill always surprised you. You sat with your shoulder pressed to his, a silent symbol of you being there for him. With his head down, he mumbled something too quiet for you to hear, so you leaned your head down to hear him better. At your movement, he huffed and lifted his head.

“I’m supposed… They wanted me to come and make a difference and to help win games. But I’m not helping! I’m supposed to be putting up points and helping win games, but we’re still losing! Like, why do I suck?”

Your chest got tight at his words. “Tim…”

“You can’t deny it, the numbers say we’re losing.”

“Losing doesn’t mean you aren’t producing. This is your first year in the NHL, you wouldn’t be here if they didn’t think you were worth it. Hockey is a team sport, it isn’t just your job to win the game.”

“But they wouldn’t have gotten me right out of the World Juniors if they didn’t need me to start making an impact right away! They were counting on me. And I’m not living up to it….”

“You are nineteen years old. Nineteen. The five other rookies ahead of you in points are all at least two years older than you. Let that sink in. You have so many years ahead of you. And secondly, no one here is expecting you to turn this team around. McDavid’s first year he didn’t turn the team around. And sure, yeah, the next year, the Oilers had more success but guess what? They missed the playoffs the next three years. Hockey is a team sport, one person, not even McDavid, can completely turn a team around. No one is expecting you to turn this team around in one season. This isn’t on you.”

“But the numbers…”

“Are you going to trust the analyst on the numbers or the assholes on Twitter?” He glared at you but let you continue on. “If you really want to talk numbers, we aren’t last in the league anymore. We’ve beat the top team in the division a couple times now. You’re putting up points, you’re helping us win. Cut yourself some slack. You’re nineteen and living in a new country. This team isn’t expecting you to be Ottawa’s saviour, okay?”

“There’s pressure to be better though! Everywhere I go, I just see how I should be doing more, how if I don’t produce more, I’m going to be a draft bust. I’m the young guy, I’m supposed to be the new blood and be able to make a difference. I feel like I’m letting everyone down.” His words lingered in the sunset glow, a contrast to the darkness he was feeling. You fell silent at his outburst, the air feeling too quiet, even with his heavy breathing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

You ignored his apology, knowing he would never intentionally hurt you. “I graduated with a 3.8 GPA. I didn’t have enough job experience but my grades were one of the only reasons I was able to get hired so young. My first year, all I did was double check other people’s stats and predictions, and it was okay. No one expected much out of me because I was young and they didn’t really give me any responsibilities. But this year… they’re looking to me more. Teams with more than two analysts are more likely to produce teams that make the playoffs. I’m number three; I should be helping make a better team. But I’m not. I’m not getting the numbers we need or the stats we need. I know more updated methods and technologies but...it’s just not working. I’m not finding solutions to problems that this team has had for years. And the board and my colleagues see that. I know I shouldn’t worry about them firing me, but I still do. I mean, I’m not producing, why would they keep me around? This wasn’t what they wanted when they gave me the job.”

“They won’t fire you, you’re doing your best. And you’re young, you graduated early. They have to give you a chance to prove yourself in the workplace before they fire you.”

“You wanna take your own advice?” He flushed at your words, but you smiled. “Thanks, though.” He nodded and looked out over the suburbs surrounding the arena.

“The pressure in this league sucks.” He said and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. It does. But we’ll get through it right?”

“We’ll figure something out. Together.” He placed his hand on your thigh and the two of you looked out at the sunset, his touch lingering on your body until the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Silently, he helped you to your feet, and walked you to your car, making sure you got in okay, before he got into his car. On the drive home, your chest felt lighter from the conversation.

***

The final buzzer rang, signalling a 4-2 win for the Senators. You smiled at the scoreboard and gathered your papers. The game was nothing spectacular, but for you, it was a career defining game. Some of the lines you'd suggested were risky, but you had the numbers to back it up, and it worked. It worked. The conversation with Tim earlier last week helped with your confidence to take risks in terms of your analytic advice.

You went back to your office after the game, wanting to type up a report of how you impacted tonight's outcome. If it worked this time, who's to say it couldn't work again? But in a higher stakes game? You felt like you were finally contributing to the team, and damn, it felt good.

Your office was barely even that. It was small, but you had a desk, a window, and your name on the door. It was enough for your first major gig. You'd made it a little homey-er with a small succulent and some motivational quotes. You opened up your laptop and began to type up a document report. The words flowed from your fingers and you used the numbers you counted from the box to back up your findings. Time seemed to stand still as you typed, the document becoming longer and longer.

A knock broke your train of thought and you looked up to see Tim poking his head through your office door. He had a shy smile on your face and you shook the writing haze out of your eyes.

"Hey! Come on in," He nodded, closing the door behind him before leaning against the wall. "You played a good game." His cheeks flushed and he lifted his hat, running his fingers through his hair.

"Thanks, thank you. Anyway, did you eat yet?"

"I mean, I had an iced coffee before the game and a granola bar during the second period. So yeah?" Immediately he started shaking his head and he pushed himself away from the wall. You open your hands as if to say 'what’?" and he outstretched his hand to you.

"Coffee and a granola bar isn't a meal. Let's go get some real food, I'm hungry." He made a grabby hand with his outstretched hand and you sighed.

"I have to finish my report, I can't." He sighed, pushed your laptop shut, and grabbed your hand.

"That can wait. Besides, the boys went out and I need a ride home." He flashed you a shy smile and you rolled your eyes, before picking up your bag and leaving your office with him. You tried not to notice how Tim was still holding onto your hand, but as he tugged you along to a quiet area of the concourse, it was difficult to do. He stopped at a small table with two bar stools. He let go of your hand, cold enveloping you, and you hung your bag on the back of the chair. As you hopped onto the chair, he stayed standing, tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

“What do you want to eat?" When you shook your head again, he pulled out his puppy dog eyes. "Tim, seriously, I'm fine."

"I'm getting some fries and you will eat some of them. Deal?" Your face pulled into a frown and he repeated himself. "Deal?"

"Yes, Mom, deal."

He gave himself a self assured smile. "Great. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later he came back with a container of fries and two small containers. He set them down in front of you before he got seated. A closer look at the container showed one was ketchup and the other was…

"Is this mayo?" He picked up a fry, dipped it in the white substance, and popped it into his mouth. With his mouth full, he nodded. "You eat your fries with mayonnaise?"

"You don't?"

"No!" You shook your head. He took another fry, dipped it again, and ate it.

"You have to try it, it's good!"

“No, no thank you. You can keep your weird German eating habits to yourself." You laughed, dipping a fry in ketchup before eating it.

"Nope, you've got to try one. Please?" You scrunched up your nose, and he held out a white coated french fry. You gave in, taking it from his hands and shoving it in your mouth. You chewed it slowly, contemplating the taste.

"It's...not horrible." He raised his eyebrows at you. "Fine, it's alright." He gave you another look, a small smile forming on his face despite his efforts to hide it. "Okay, okay, I like it. Happy?" He let out a loud laugh.

"Yes! I knew you'd like it!" You laughed a little with him, before dipping another fry in the mayo and popped it in your mouth. The two of you ate in silence, the sounds of the zamboni in the background.

"Why didn't you go out with the guys? You had a good game,"

He shrugged. "I wanted something quieter. Besides, I was hungry and the guys wanted to go out to a bar. Bar food isn't exactly a meal."

"Neither is french fries,"

"Well, maybe, you're just better company than the guys."

"Damn right, I am." You smiled, tapped his fry with yours in a makeshift sort of 'cheers' way. When the two of you had finished your snack, you picked up the container and threw it in the compost bin near the table. You grabbed your bag off the chair, holding up your car keys. He got up off the table, joining you in a slow walk towards the parking lot.

You wished the custodians a good night as the two of you left the arena, the street lights in the parking lot illuminating the way to your car. Silently, you unlocked the car and you both got in. You gave him your phone, telling him to pick any playlist he wanted while you started the car. He picked one of your favourite playlists, a mix of relaxing beats and soft music, which was perfect for late night drives.

"You should have some lo-fi on here, it's a lot like this. I think you'd like it," he said, after you had merged onto the highway.

"Yeah?" He only nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to come back to the car. The rest of the drive was easy, the road being mostly empty and the music filling the car. He gave you quiet directions to the house, more points and here's than actual directions but you were able to find it.

"Thank you for the ride," He said, once you’d put the car in park.

"Thanks for sharing your food with me,” He shook his head and smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I’ll always share with you.” You caught his gaze, his brown eyes filled with sincerity. You could feel your cheeks flush and you waved him out of your car.

“I gotta get home too, you know.” You joked and he got out, popping his head back into the doorway for a second.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” You murmured an ‘of course’ and he nodded, closing the car door and making his way to his front door. You waited until he entered the house before you drove away, turning on a lo-fi playlist from Spotify.

***

“Your turn to pick the movie, but no subtitles please, I’m too lazy to read today.” You handed Tim the remote for his TV while you pulled the blanket closer to your chin. The October chill had settled in his apartment and you hadn’t dressed for his room to feel like the arena.

“Jimmy!” Someone called from the kitchen and a loud clang dissolved any annoyance Tim had from his roommate interrupting his time with you. He rushed to the kitchen and you followed behind shyly. There were platters across the kitchen island, each with a different coloured dish. It looked like there was a salad, a couple casserole dishes, and some plates of desserts. A taller brunette was standing in the kitchen, frantically gesturing between Tim and a pot on the stove. There was a lid on the ground, a splatter of pinkish red liquid surrounding it. You entered the kitchen, picked up the lid before placing it in the sink. The other guy was still explaining to Tim what exactly he wanted to do, even though his head was tilted like a confused puppy. You brushing him aside llightly, grabbing the spoon Tim was holding to stir the pinkish red liquid on the stove. You sent him a small smile back over your shoulder and all you could see in his eyes was relief.

“Thank you!” The oven beeped and you noticed an embroidered #9 on the roommate's Senator sweats. You moved to the side to allow him to get another baking dish from the oven. He placed it on the stovetop and took off his oven mitts. “Thank you for doing that. I didn’t think he’d be that helpless in the kitchen.”

“I’m surprised anyone in this house can actually cook,” You laughed. The liquid that smelled of oranges and cranberries started to boil, so you reduced the heat and continued to stir it. You look at the baking dish that he brought out of the oven. “Are those brussel sprouts?”

“Yeah! My mom’s recipe; they’re delicious! Do you like them?”

“They’re one of my favourites! My recipe uses bacon though.”

“Oh nice! You’ll have to share it with me, I’d love to try it. And, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Josh,”

“I know.” He shot you a look and you backtracked. “I-Sorry, it’s just-I actually work with you? I’m in the analytics department, so I know your jersey number and I saw it on your sweats and put two and two together. I’m not being a creep, I’m sorry.” The sound of laughter behind you made you blush.

“Not being a creep my ass. They did the same thing when me and Jimmy ran into them for the first time!” Brady commented, walking into the kitchen. He was wearing a nice pair of dress pants and a button up shirt. You shook your head before nodding towards his attire.

“Going somewhere nice?” He looked down at his outfit and shook his head.

“It’s Thanksgiving? It’s why they gave us the day off?” That...that would explain the amount of food in the kitchen. No matter how many years you lived here, you’d always forgotten that Canadian Thanksgiving was a whole month earlier. You placed the stir spoon on a plate next to the pot and wiped your hands on your pants.

“Oh! Um, right, well, uh in that case, I should be, I should get going. You guys must have plans. Nice to meet you Josh.” You made your way out of the kitchen to the foyer where your coat and shoes were without so much as a goodbye to the guys. You could hear Tim coming after you, his steps lighter and more graceful than Brady or Josh’s. But, he didn’t make a move to do anything except stare at you as you got ready to leave. It wasn’t until you were getting ready to put on your shoes that he spoke.

“You should just stay. We’ve got lots of food.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…”

“Brady’s bringing his girlfriend and a couple other of the guys are coming over. You wouldn’t be intruding.”

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You should. Why won’t you stay?”

“I don’t know if you have this holiday in Germany, but Thanksgiving is a family thing, Tim.” You sighed. “Besides, shouldn’t I have brought something? Am I even dressed okay?” You looked down at your outfit - a simple pair of jeans and one of your comfiest graphic tees. He shrugged.

“Don’t worry about that. You look great, just enjoy the night with me. Stay? Please? C’mon schatz, you’re like my family to me.” The two of you maintained eye contact until you broke it and took off your coat. You could see Tim’s smile widen and when it came to walking back into the kitchen, he extended his arm. You took it and the two of you made your way back towards what would end up being a wonderful evening full of laughs and smiles shared between friends.

***

You had come over for a trashy reality TV binge after a particularly hard day at work. None of the numbers were adding up the way you needed them to and your laptop was having a hissy-fit all day. Soon enough, you called it a day and texted Tim, telling him you’d be over in twenty minutes. He greeted you at the door with your favourite chocolate treat, a box of Timbits, and “there’s popcorn in the microwave right now, it’s almost done”. You could’ve melted right on the spot. Instead, you made your way over to the couch where you collapsed and pulled the blanket he had already set out for you up to your chin. You breathed in the smells of pine and sock tape and felt your body relax. HGTV played in the background while you waited for him to bring the popcorn out when his phone dinged.

“Tim, your phone!” You yelled to him from across the living room.

“Who is it?” You sighed and moved from your comfortable spot on the couch to check his messages. You turned on the phone to see a message from Josh, saying he’s five minutes away. You went to lock the phone, seeing the unimportance of the message but something caught your eye. You swiped to clear the notification and his background came into focus. It was the two of you standing in front of the Ottawa sign at ByWard market, his arm around your shoulders and a grin on both your faces.

“Who was it?” He entered the room as he repeated his question.

“Just Josh,” you whispered, turning around to face him holding up his phone. “Am I your lock screen?” He blushes, opening his mouth stammering for words. “I am! I knew I was important to you.” You poked him a couple times for an extra tease when his face settled into a small pout and he retaliated by tickling you. You shrieked and hopped up from the couch, laughing as he chased you around the house.

“Stop doing that!” He laughed as you escaped his clutches once more. Your laugh echoed through the house as he tried again to try to tickle you, but you grabbed Josh and used him as a human shield.

“No fair schatz,” He relented his tickling and sat on the couch. You took a seat beside him, but kept your distance in case he decided to start his torture again.

“You know, you’ve never told me what that means,” You look over to him and he’s already scratching the back of his neck.

“What what means?”

“That thing you keep calling me. Like shats?”

Josh laughed and spoke up. “It means swe-”

“Friend! It means friend!” Tim interrupted loudly, his cheeks rosy. “It means friend.” You raised your eyebrows at his outburst and his explanation.

“You call your friends, ‘friend’?”

He scratched at his jaw and slowly nodded. “In my city, it’s common for friends to just call each other ‘friend’. It’s normal,” You managed out a ‘okay’ between breathy laughs, wondering why he was being so strange about it. It was just a nickname. But the blush in his cheeks didn’t diminish until well after Josh left the room, muttering under his breath about ‘idiots’, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe it meant more than Tim was letting on.

***

“Are you going to be at the gala on Saturday?” Tim asked you as the two of you ate (lunch for you, pre-practice snack for him) on the concourse. It was your first concourse snack since the All-Star break and you had missed him. WhatsApp messages and Instagram messages just weren’t the same as being in his presence. You finished your bite, and shook your head.

“It’s only for players isn’t it?”

“Would you want to come with me?”

“Like...as a date?” You looked up at him, your eyes wide. Maybe this was the clue you were waiting for.

“As friends?” Your eyes darted down onto the counter and Tim took that as a sign you didn’t want to go with him. “There’ll be puppies there.”

“Well,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “If there’s going to be puppies, I need no more convincing.” You forced a smile onto your face and he returned the sentiment, before finishing up the food. You wished him good luck before the game, and left to go the the box.

Soon enough, it was Saturday night and you found yourself in front of the Fairmont Château. You gazed up at the stone walls and admired how the orange glow from the lights gave it such a warm feeling, compared to the shivers that were going up and down your back. You had found time to go and get a fancy outfit for the night, its gold fabric being a perfect fit on your body. Tim had told you he’d meet you inside, so walked upt the steps alone, avoiding the other guests in fancy attire. They looked like they belonged here. You couldn't relate. The front entrance of the hotel was exactly as you expected -- it had marble floors, crown moldings, and a domed ceiling. You followed the chatter to one of the conference rooms, someone offering to check your coat. With just your clutch, you entered the ballroom with the sound of your shoes following you.

You looked around to try to find Tim among the executives, easily spotting him when you heard Brady’s booming laugh in the corner. You made your way over to the group, including Brady, Josh, Drake, Tim and some respective dates. Josh waved at you and Tim turned around to see you walking towards him.

Tim stood there, memorized by the way the Senators gold fabric hugged your figure and the way your eyes had lit up when you saw one of the puppies. You came over to him, brushing his arm before joining the group. Hellos were thrown your way and it wasn’t long before everyone went back to their conversations and you were able to speak with Tim.

“You look handsome." You handed him your clutch, which he held unashamedly, as you adjusted his gold bowtie, letting your hands linger on the front of his chest. You gulped before snapping out of your trance and took your clutch back from him.

“Um, uh, thanks. You look...good too,” His voice was breathy and his cheeks had flushed a little. You smiled at him, before noticing another golden retriever stumbling around next to its trainer and darting off to pet it. Tim watched you go and he stood back, blown away by the way his heart was beating faster and how he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs.

“You finally figured it out, huh?” He turned around at Drake’s voice. He had recognized the look on Tim’s face, it was the same one he had when he looked at his partner. Tim furrowed his eyebrows.

“Figured what out?”

Drake scoffed and took a gulp of his drink. “God, you already know and you’re denying it. You’re in love with them.” Tim shook his head, waving off the thought. You were his best friend, nothing more. “C’mon man, you can keep lying to yourself but it’s obvious to everyone else.” He was then swept away by a reporter, leaving Tim to his thoughts.

He wasn’t in love with you. He was sure of it. You were his best friend, his safe spot. It’s not like when he sees you his heart beats faster or he notices how your eyes crinkle when you laugh or when the sun hits your skin just right, you look like an angel. It’s not like the more he looks at your lips the more he wants to know if they taste like your sweet honey lip chap. It’s not like your smile could cure his darkest days or that he could see himself introducing you to his family as his partner.

Except it was like that.

Tim saw all of that with you. He saw more galas, more late night drives, lazy Sunday mornings. He wanted to see you after his games, not in your office, but in the tunnel where you’d be wearing his jersey and a special jean jacket. He wanted to take you home to meet his family, his hometown friends. He wanted to show you all the places that were special to him, just as you showed his places special to you. He wanted to meet Dani and see if she thought he was good enough to be your partner. As he stared at you petting the small golden pup, he realized Drake was right. He was in love with you.

He was in love with his best friend.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do now?

You didn’t give him too much time to think about that as you came up behind him, telling him everything about the golden retriever you just met. He smiled at you, and motioned with his head to find your seats as dinner was going to be served soon. You sat next to him, your leg brushing against his under the table. Even from that, he got shocks-- tiny lightning bolts trailing up his body. It was like every sense was heightened after he came to the realization that he loved you. How am I supposed to even act around them? He thought.

The meal passed without issue and while Tim went about schmoozing all the executives and donors, you stick with the other halves. You had already met Emma, Brady’s partner, and she introduced you to Dakota, Briar, and Marissa (she had also told you who they came with but that information had not stuck with you).

“Sooo… Emma, how’s the wedding planning going?” Briar asked. She had gotten engaged over the holiday break. She laughed and waved off the question.

“Oh, not at all! We’re just enjoying being engaged, it’s like the honeymoon phase all over again,”

“Just like you and Tim,” Dakota nudged you and wiggled her eyebrows. You coughed on your drink at her statement.

“What?” You managed to sputter. Emma looked uncomfortable but didn’t say anything. “What do you mean, like me and Tim?”

“Oh come on, it’s so obvious the two of you are in your honeymoon phase! Don’t be ashamed of it, you’re such a cute couple!”

“Ooh yes!! How his bowtie matched your outfit is like goals, I wish my boyfriend did that with me,” Marissa mentioned. Your voice felt caught in your throat and you were instantly aware of the breeze in the room and the sweat on the back of your neck.

“We’re just friends,” Your voice was small.

“I’ll believe that when pigs fly, babe. Oh, look, here comes your man.” Dakota winked at you before turning into her own date. You turn around quickly to see him walking over to you, laughing with Brady and Josh. Normally, the sight of him would calm you down. He was such a genuine person and you appreciated how you never had to shrink yourself to fit in with him. But with the girls’ comments, you suddenly couldn’t be around him. When his hand met the small of your back, you flinched before relaxing into his touch. It was just Tim, your Tim. It’s not a big deal unless you make it a big deal.

“Timmy, I was just telling Y/n what a cute couple you two are!”

“Well, what do they say? Oh right, they complete me,” He sent you a wink and pulled you closer to his side. You went stiff in his hold, and he noticed, instantly letting you out of his grip. You muttered out an excuse about work and said quick goodbyes to the group before you were out of the gala as fast as your shoes could allow. Your cheeks were hot with...embarrassment? No, that wasn’t quite it. But they were hot, and the room felt small with Dakota’s teasing so just needed to escape. You needed to have fresh air in your lungs, needed to feel the cool Ottawa air on your arms. Needed to be somewhere other than beside him and his light teasing that left your stomach in knots.

But you hadn't even reached the front door and grabbed your coat from the coat check when Tim caught up to you. He watched you try to put on your coat, as he rocked back and forth on his heels like that first day you met.

“Do you… do you actually have work in the morning or were you just saying that?” You looked up and met his eyes, the orbs holding a certain vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

“I got called at the last minute. I forgot to tell you, Jody’s kid got sick so I’m covering the game on Sunday but I haven’t prepared my notes or anything and you know me, I’ve got to be prepared or I won’t make a coherent analysis and then I’m really in trouble-” Tim cut your rambling off with a murmur of your name and you slowed your frantic movements to look at him.

“We’re okay, right?”

You smiled at him before you walked out the glass door. “Yeah, we’re alright.”

***

Last night was confusing to say the least. You could still feel the heat in your cheeks from...embarrassment? No, it wasn’t that. It was more like you couldn’t stand around to see what he meant by his comment. You couldn’t stand around why everyone else say you as a couple when you knew you weren’t. But you were okay with not being a couple weren’t you?

It’s like not you liked him that way. Yeah, a simple smile from him could turn your day around and your concourse snacks were the highlight of your week. But that’s because he was your best friend. It’s not like you wanted to spend every morning waking up to him or spend your afternoons running your fingers through his hair. It’s not like you wanted to take him back to Seattle to meet Dani or how you wanted to wear his jersey to call him yours. It’s not like you daydreamed about him gently holding your hand as you walked through ByWard market or how soft his lips would be as he leaned in to kiss you or what his abs felt like without a shirt separating your fingers from his skin.

Except it was like that.

And then came the comment at the gala. Did that mean he liked you too? But he said you were just going as friends. Did he mean it platonically? What if you read things wrong? Fuck, why were feelings so complicated?

Dani, you needed to call Dani. She’d know what to make of all this. She picked up on the fourth ring. “Thanks for calling Books By The Ocean, may you please hold?”

“Dani, it’s me.” Hold music filled your ear and you rolled your eyes. A few minutes later, there was almost certainly a hole in your rug from your pacing and she finally picked up.

“Why’d you resort to calling the store? I would’ve answered my phone eventually,”

“Yeah, eventually. I just really need to talk to you now,”

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“There’s this guy…”

“Is it Tim? Please tell me it’s Tim.” When you didn’t answer, she rejoined before reeling it in and telling you to continue.

“Anyways...we’re pretty good friends, I've known him since like the start of the season, and I don’t know, like I think he likes me? And I mean, I like him, he’s really great but, like, I just-”

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I want to take the next step with him. I want to be more than friends with him. I want all those things but… I just seem frozen. Like when I think about telling him, my body feels like it won’t move. It feels like I’m underwater. But I want to do more with him. I want that. Why won’t my brain get that and let me… I don’t know, let me act on my feelings?”

“You’re protecting yourself. You’ve never got hurt before,” You scoffed at her statement.

“What do you mean, of course I have,”

“Okay, sure, when you scraped your knee or when Nancy Peters called you dumb in second grade but you haven’t got hurt before. You haven’t opened yourself up to someone and let someone into your heart and let them see you for who you are.”

“Well, yeah, okay, but that’s because they might not like what they see,”

She sighed. “You can’t go through life with your walls up, kiddo. It’s hard, but you have to trust yourself. You have to let yourself feel. You have to let people in. When we were little and moved around a lot, maybe it was a survival tactic. But you’ve been in Ottawa for close to five years now and have unpacked all your boxes? Have you had any friends over? You’ve put down roots there but you’re still holding onto a survival tactic when you need to be living, not just surviving.

“I let people in--”

“No. You don’t. Has Tim ever been in your apartment? Has he seen that even though you resent Mom, you still have family photos of the four of us in your living room? Does he know about Dad? You might have told him stuff but you’re still living behind walls.” She sighed.

“Look, I don’t mean to be hard on you, but I want to see you thrive kiddo. I want you to experience life, and yeah, hurt is a part of life. You aren’t doing life right if you come out unscathed. And sure, maybe he’s a great friend. But in some instances, that romantic partner can fill a more emotionally secure place. People usually place more trust in their partner than just a friend. You’ve got to open up to him more than you already have if you want more from him.”

“How do I do that?”

“You’ve got to figure that out on your own kiddo, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. Honestly; no hiding behind your friendship.” You nodded to her advice, before realizing she couldn’t see you, and thanked her for her help. She hung up with the promise to chat again on Wednesday like you normally did. You threw your phone beside the sink and leaned your head against the cool counter.

Be honest with him

Okay, you could do that. Easy enough right? You just had to make a plan to tell him. You could do that.

***

You were walking through the halls close to the bench to deliver your latest stats to the coach. It was your job after the other analysts determined you “had the youngest feet” and could go scouring around to find the coach. You didn’t mind. Besides… if you just happened to bump into Tim while you were down here, well then that was a completely unplanned coincidence. Since the gala and your chat with Dani afterwards, you were feeling good about where you stood with Tim. And you’d made your plan. After the game, you’d meet up for after-game snacks like most home games and you had told yourself you’d talk to him then.

You had given the latest report to the coach on the bench, walking past the locker room towards the box when you heard Tim's voice.

“...I don’t know man, I just need a break from Y/n.” You stopped in your tracks. It wasn’t that you meant to be nosy, but at the mention of your name… you wanted to see what else he had to say. You hadn’t meant to smother him but you guess he saw it differently. Your shoulders dropped and you bit your lip.

“I only have a problem around them!” You could feel the breakfast in your stomach start to turn, the feeling of bile starting to rise up. A ringing started to fill your ears, the white static noise only being pieced by his once comforting voice.

“It’s just… We work together, you know? It’s awkward,” Where was this attitude when you were hanging out at the start of the season? Last week? If this is how he felt, why didn’t… what did he mean by his comment to Dakota?

His voice shook you out of your trance. “Like at the end of the day, I’m me… they pay me a lot to play my game and they’re...them.” At that, you rushed away from earshot. If that was how he really felt, then screw him. If he was the hockey star and you were just the analyst, then that’s what role you’d play. Nothing more, nothing less. And he wasn’t brave enough to say that to your face, you’d say it first.

This is why you didn’t open yourself up. If you were going to get hurt either way, it might as well be the least damaging option.

Over the next few games and practices, you kept your distance from the players. You avoided the bench, sending Jody to give reports to the coach. You kept your office door closed, the blinds closed, and you made sure to time your exits of the arena to avoid Tim. If avoiding him meant you avoided the inevitable conversation where he would tell you your flaws and point out every way you misread things, then you would do that.

After you heard that, you stopped going out of your way to pass by the boys in the arena. You went into your office, closed the door, and didn’t leave until you went home. When you had to sit in the stands for practices, you sat higher than you used to and ignored the waves and stared you got from the team. He sent the occasional text but you replied with an im busy too many times that he stopped trying. It was odd to you how he kept reaching out when he was the one who said he needed a break but you ignored that voice in your head.

It was a Friday when he finally confronted you. You had been so close to leaving the arena, just one more hallway, and you would’ve been out the door and into the parking lot. He had called your name and you tried to turn the corner without him but he caught up easily, grabbing your wrist to get you to stay.

“What’s up? It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever,” He let go of your wrist as you turned to face him.

“Well that’s what happens when you’re a bigshot NHL player and I’m a lowly analyst.” He squinted his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows at your statement.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t-- I don’t think we should be friends anymore,”

He slowly nodded, thinking your words over in his head. “Okay. Um...I think… yeah, that could be good. I don’t think we should be just friends either.” He shot you a shy smile with a spark of hope in his eyes but you frowned.

“Good. It’s settled then.” You turned on your heel and walked away from him, only wiping your teary eye once you had rounded the corner, refusing to let him see you cry. You missed the way he frowned as you retreated.

The weekend was spent in bed, repeat episodes of Loki playing in the background. Loki never hurt you the way Tim had, the way his words dug into your insecurities of being alone creating a wound like no other. You had turned your phone off earlier as it kept buzzing with messages from him. You didn’t want to hear his excuses of why and you didn’t want to explain that you’d overheard his conversation. But the season wasn’t over yet so you gave yourself two days to grieve. When Monday morning came, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Tim caught you in the main entrance way at the rink. It was close to 8am and you knew he didn’t have practice until 11, so it was obvious he was waiting for you. You walk right past him until he softly calls your name and you stop walking, but don’t turn around. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“You know why.” You whipped around and scoffed at him. “And you know what else? If you had a problem with me, you could’ve just said something. You didn’t have to keep hanging out with me.”

“What?”

“I think we should just keep this professional, 18. I’m nothing more than a background analyst to your hockey superstar, so let’s just stick to our jobs, yeah?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We work together, we shouldn’t be friends, you said it yourself. It’ll be better this way. Now, please, just leave me alone.” You brushed by him, bumping your shoulder with his, and you missed the way his jaw fell open at how quickly your relationship seemed to change.

He seemed to leave you alone after that. He didn’t check in and he didn’t send funny memes he found. He didn’t text you to tell you he landed safely on road trips and you didn’t congratulate him on a game well played. You could tell Brady and Josh thought it was weird but didn’t say anything, just gave you pitying looks when you passed by or caught their eye in the halls.

The Senators failed to clinch a playoff spot, thanks to an overtime loss to Winnipeg. The end of the season for you was nice. It meant a shift in your work to more prospects, and thankfully, a more flexible work schedule. You didn’t have to go into the arena and most of the players went back to their hometowns to visit. It was supposed to be a reprieve for you, knowing Tim wasn’t even in the country. It was supposed to be relaxing, going to all the places that had helped you in the past to regroup your thoughts.

But instead, it felt suffocating, strolling through the market. You’d been here thousands of times to clear your head, but this time the deeper you walked, the more the thoughts in your head swirled into a hurricane.

You’d never know what home felt like. You’d had friends tell you it’s having like extended family over around the holidays or it’s the peacefulness they felt at their lake house. You thought you had found it in Ottawa, its quaintness and history bringing you a sense of calm you hadn’t had before. But only with Tim did you feel that inner peace that home felt like. Only with Tim did you feel like you could take on the world. Only with Tim did you feel whole.

And that was scary.

Feeling like one person could complete you, like they had a piece of your heart you didn’t know you gave them, was scary. You were used to being on your own. You’d done it throughout your levels of schooling and throughout the beginnings of your career. And all it took for that strength to come crashing down was a bashfully confident German hockey player.

He couldn’t even tell you why. It would’ve hurt more to hear the exact reasons why you weren’t good enough for him, but it would have quelled your mind from picking on every single insecurity your mind could come up with.

Before you knew it, you were staring at the Ottawa sign. You glanced around to see couples waiting for their turn at the sign. Some of the guys had their arms around the shoulders’ of their girlfriends. Some of the girls had their hands clasped in their girlfriends’. Some people had their arms around the waist of their partner. But they all had a smile on their face, a fondness that was reserved for the love of their life.

Your eye caught the sight of a backwards Senators cap and your head whipped around. The person was tall and was wearing a grey hoodie. The man turned to the side and you caught a glance of the brown tufts of hair that stuck out of the cap. He threw his head back and the corners of your mouth turned up. Tim’s laugh was always infectious, even if you were upset with him.

But it wasn’t him.

He hadn’t reached out since the day in the hallway. As much as you knew you didn’t want to hear him say things more hurtful than what you overheard, you couldn’t help but wonder where you went wrong. The what-ifs tumbled around in your head, the possibilities of why suddenly your friendship was too much for him.

As you stood there in the market, the memories racing through your mind mixed with images of happy couples all around you, you knew you had to get out. You don’t really remember the rush of leaving, all you know is that the city that felt big for so many years now felt too small. You can’t go anywhere without being reminded of him, his smile, his laugh. How his eyes glimmer from the light of a movie. You drove yourself to the airport, knowing there wasn’t going to be a cab this early in the morning.

Before you knew it, you were standing outside of the familiar blue painted bookstore with your duffle bag in your hands. It was raining and overcast in Seattle, which wasn’t unusual, but even the fat teardrops felt melancholic. The sign in the window said closed, but you knew Dani would be in the back, organizing new stock. You knocked on the window, the sound rattling through the worn building. A few seconds later, her head of light pink hair came to the door, opening it. Before she could question your presence, you spoke.

“He didn’t want me,” you cried. “He didn’t even see all of me and he didn’t want me.” You dropped your bag as she pulled you into a hug. One hand cradled the back of your head as she pulled you out of the rain and into the store. You inhaled her scent, a mix of sea salt and the old bookstore, and squeezed her tightly. When she released you from the hug, she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, her fingers grazing down your jaw. She gave you a soft smile, before walking to the back of the store, where her apartment was. Your shoes squeaked against the old hardwood floors as you followed her towards the kitchen, where you could smell a pot of tea brewing.

She was silent as she poured you a cup, kissed your head, before whispering everything was going to work out. She slipped out of the room, giving you your space.

You didn’t even have to ask. Dani let you stay with her for the summer, as long as you helped out around the store when you weren’t doing your own work. She didn’t push you for details about Tim, she just let you be. You tried your best to be cheery around the customers but that facade only lasted so long. When you were alone, you didn’t try to hide the emptiness you felt there.

***

Too soon did the days start to get shorter, the nights colder, the pitter-patter of raindrops became more constant which meant fall was coming. The season was starting up again, and you had to head back to Ottawa. This summer at home was a nice break but you knew that running away wasn’t going to solve all your problems. You were packing when a text from Josh came in.

So when are you getting in?

i land at 9pm on the 20th. Why?

Can’t I wonder when my friend gets into the city?

we’re friends?

Of course we are Numbers! I don’t share family recipes with just anyone :)

good to know thanks :)

You continued packing, thinking about what he said. You knew the two of you were friends, but he was Tim’s teammate. His roommate. To hear him say, regardless of where you and Tim stand, that you two were still good was a relief. As much as you’ve enjoyed your time away from the city, you missed work. You missed sitting in the arena, a brisk chill over your shoulder, the sounds of scraping ice and whistles. You missed the quaintness of Ottawa and, as much as he’d never let you forget it, you missed Josh’s cooking. Nights with Dani didn’t compare to nights with Brady (and sometimes Emma) and Josh.

Dani parked in the loading zone of the airport. She got out of the car to help with your bag, even though you had only brought one.

“Hey, listen, um. I know you don’t want to talk about what happened with Tim but… I think you need to talk to him.”

“Dani...”

“No, listen. I think you need some closure. You ran away from a city you haven’t left in five years, a city you so obviously love, because it hurt to think about him. Maybe closure means you talk to him. Maybe it doesn’t. But you’ve spent this whole summer looking lost, like you’re waiting for something to magically appear and make everything better. You look like you’ve lost a piece of yourself and you don’t know how to get it back. And that’s not you, kiddo. It’s never been you; you’ve always been so straightforward and sure of yourself. I want you to feel like yourself again, that’s all.”

“What if…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “What if the piece of me that I lost isn’t something I can get back?”

“Then you fill it. It might not be perfect and maybe you need lots of tape, and maybe you accept that there will be small cracks in it, but those holes make your souls yours. It’s a part of life, and you can’t avoid it no matter how hard you try.” You pulled her in for a hug, some of the tears in your eyes dropping onto her shoulder.

“Thank you Dani. For everything.” She pulled back to wipe the tears from your face, a smile on her face.

“You know I’m always here for you, kiddo. Take care of yourself, okay?” You nodded, knowing if you spoke again, more tears would bubble over. You walked towards the departures gate, walking towards the reality you ran from.

Several hours later, you were happy to be back in Ottawa. You had missed it, as much as it pained you when you were here. Tim Hortons, bilingual signs, friendly smiles, and oh god you could have real poutine again. Yeah, it was nice to be back.

Dani’s words mulled over in your head throughout the flight, and continued to as you made your way through the airport. She was right, maybe you needed closure. Accept what happened and move on. You’d lost friends when you graduated early, you’d lost friends when you moved away. You’d lost friends before and this was no different.

Except you knew deep down it was different. It was Tim; it was always going to be different with him.

You shook your head, as if to physically rid yourself of the thought. If Tim didn’t want to be around you, then you weren’t going to waste your time waiting for him to show up. You’d suck it up everything you had to look at a stat, but other than that you’d focus on work, focus on proving yourself in the company. You started to walk towards where you’d parked your car (without wondering how much the parking was), ignoring the happy reunions of students and families. You had been perfectly fine being in Ottawa on your own until you realized how much better it could be when you had someone.

A hand grasped your wrist and instantly, you turned around and ripped your arm from the stranger. You looked up, first to see a bouquet of flowers made up of peach roses, white tulips, and hydrangeas. Behind the colours of the flowers, you see a familiar face, eyes full of sorrow and hope. Even when you were ignoring him, he was still so easy to read.

“Number 18.” You struggled to keep your voice even, but you lifted your head to appear as if he had no effect on him.

“Hi Y/n,” He met your eyes, which you quickly darted away. “These are for you.” He tried to hand the bouquet to you, but you shook your head.

“How did you know when I got in?” The coldness in your voice surprised Tim, but he didn’t show it, swallowing slowly before answering you.

“Josh told me." You folded your arms, your hands gripping your bag in case you needed to get away from this conversation.

“Josh mentioned it or you asked Josh?” When he didn’t answer, you knew it was the latter and scoffed at his sneaky actions. You quickly turned away from him and moved faster towards the exit. You heard him sigh from behind you and before you could make a sly comment about it beneath your breath, he was ahead of you, blocking your way. You tried to side-step him, but hockey reflexes prevailed. You glared his way and tried again, silently begging him to move.

“C’mon, you have to talk to me sometime, we work together,” He commented.

“That’s exactly it. We work together. You’re the high and mighty NHL superstar and I’m the nerdy analyst. We have our places. They don’t mix, so really I don’t have to work with you at all. So, please, if you could just move, I have nothing else to say to you.” You tried once more to step around him, but he lightly grabbed your forearm to stop you.

“But I have stuff to say to you.”

“You had months to say it, so I’ll say it again, please let me by.” Suddenly, he was on his knees in the airport, the flowers still outstretched in his hands.

“Y/n,”

“What are you doing?” You hiss to him, your face darting around to see people starting to stare at Tim’s grand gesture.

“I need you to talk to me, and you won’t, so I’ll beg until you agree to hear me out,” You could feel more people staring, the shutter of camera phones, the eyes of everyone in the Ottawa airport (or what felt like it) easily making up your mind. There was a reason you were an analyst, away from the spotlight, doing your work behind the scenes.

“Get up,” you started to pull on his arm, but he just stayed anchored to the ground.

“You’ll talk to me?”

“18, I will do anything as long as you stop making a scene,” At this point, your cheeks felt as if you’d stood under the beating sun for an hour. He got up from his knees, the flowers still outstretched in his hands, and you let go of his arm. You grabbed the flowers from his arms, dropping them in a garbage bin as you stalked out of the airport. Tim caught up to you and walked by your side.

You said nothing as you reached your car, unlocking the doors. You didn’t even wait for him to have his seatbelt on before you were backing out of the stall and driving away. Thoughts were running wild in your head; you were angry and embarrassed at the stunt he pulled at the airport, appalled at the audacity he had to show up after what he said, and last of all you were reluctantly happy to be back in his presence again. So you went to the one place you knew you could think.

You put the car in park overlooking the suburbs. You turned it off and rested your arms on the steering wheel. You couldn’t make the effort to get out and walk to the lookout spot, the car creating a safe bubble for your thoughts.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” His soft voice broke the tense silence in the car and you scoffed.

“We’re not friends anymore. You’re the Senators star player and I’m just the nerdy analyst. There’s no reason for me to need to talk to you.”

“See, you keep saying that but I-I don’t get it! What does that even mean?” You furrow your eyebrows as you turn to face him, his own face scrunched up and his eyes hard.

“What do you mean you don’t get it? You said that! The last game against Montréal? I was walking past the locker room and… I overheard you talking with the guys.” You looked down to your lap, findling with your hands. You briefly saw Tim’s hand start to move towards you, but you shook your head and it stayed in his lap. “You said you needed a break from me. You said that ‘at the end of the day they pay me a lot to play my game and they’re.. them’. You said you had a problem with me. What was I supposed to take from that except that you didn’t want me to be in your life?”

He stammered for words but you cut him off. “No, I don’t think you understand how much it hurt. Hurt to have the one person who I thought understood me to talk behind my back about how I wasn’t enough for them. It hurt to know that the one person who I always wanted to talk to, didn’t want to talk to me. Hurt to think that you’ve only ever seen me as just some nerdy analyst who has no place in your life. I had been fine before, without you in my life, but then you came in and knocked down every barrier I ever had. And then left as if you didn’t just break my life into pieces!

“I left Ottawa because it hurt too much to go to all my favourite places, because I went there with you. I let you into my safe spaces, and when you left, you shattered that security. You tainted all the good I had there. I thought that Ottawa was home before I met you,” you scoffed. “Not even close. You feel like home to me. And for you to say that I was a problem in your life?” You shook your head at him and looked down at your hands. “I tried to get over it, believe me I did. But every single place I went I was reminded of you… and how everything we had didn’t feel like a big deal to you.”

“I never meant for that to happen.” His voice was quiet and strained, as if he was trying to keep his emotions within him.

“You know the hardest part? I didn’t just have to get over losing my best friend. I had to get over someone I fell in love with! I lost the single most important relationship with one tiny little passing conversation. And you acted like nothing happened! Like we were still friends, like you still cared for me-”

“Ich liebe dich du trottel!” His outburst caught you off guard and you gulped. His heavy breathing was the only sound in the car as you whispered.

“You know I don’t speak German…”

“You don’t need to know German to know what I said,” His eyes were hard, a look you had only seen during games.

“Oh.” You shook your head and looked at him. “Wait what?”

“I didn’t say those things you think I did! You didn’t listen to the whole thing! Brady was teasing me about me saying I don’t have a problem talking to people I like and I don’t normally but you’re the exception! I needed a break from you because everytime I see you, my heart starts beating faster and my hands get sweaty and I don’t know how to act! And the guys said that sounds like I’m in love with you-- and I am! I am! But when I finally started to do something about it, you ran away from me! I didn’t know what to do. Besides, if I fell in love with you...it could mess with our jobs. Because if for any reason, something happens, they’d fire you before they’d ever trade me. And you’ve worked too hard to have an opportunity like this be taken away from you because of me. So... I didn’t know what to do. And then you just kept ignoring me and saying those things about how you’re just a nerdy analyst…. It felt like we weren’t on the same page anymore and I didn’t know where it came from or what to do either so I tried to give you space. But then you shut me out. And you said we shouldn’t be friends. So I thought that meant.... you wanted to be more than friends? And the boys were saying that you being mean to me was just you having a hard time having feelings for me but then you… uh, yelled at me so I left you alone. But that doesn’t mean I stopped thinking about you.” He placed one of his hands on top of your tentatively, giving you the option to shoo his hand away. When you didn’t, he rubbed the skin on top of your hand. “It never meant I stopped caring about you.”

He sighed. “I guess I see now that I should not have given you space. I should’ve been better for you because that’s what you deserve.”

“I could’ve been better too, this isn’t all your fault. I said some mean things.”

“I promise you, that when we’re together I’m not a NHL player. I’m just me… just Tim from Germany who likes hockey. You have always seen me for who I am, and that’s...that’s something I love about you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. Love… was a big word. Love was for confident people. Love was for those who didn’t understand the weight of that four letter word. Love wasn’t a word you threw around. Love was scary. It asked you to place your bandaged heart in someone else’s hands and hope they didn’t drop it, shattering the pieces into smithereens. Love meant letting down those walls that time and time again had proved that needed to stay up. To protect you. To avoid the heartache of broken trust.

And here he was, throwing that word around as if the implications didn’t matter. As if he didn’t leave. As if he didn’t call you a problem. As if he didn’t know the months you spent trying to forget him and the fragments he left behind.

As if he still wasn’t understanding.

“I… I can’t do this.” You go to open the car door only for it to lock. You gasp, and you whip your head around, your eyes sharp. “This is my car, you can’t do that!” His eyes went wide and you tried again, only for it to be locked again. You gritted your teeth and he spoke before you could reprimand him again.

“Don’t shut me out again! You say you can’t do this, okay, but tell me why. We’re supposed to-to talk to each other! We would’ve had no mess if you had just talked to me after you heard what I said! So.. talk to me,” You met his soft eyes, your resolve breaking with just one look. “Please, schatz.”

You slowly pulled your hand off the handle, letting it fall into your lap. You picked at your fingernails while trying to compose your thoughts, Tim’s concerned eyes never leaving you. He murmured your name and you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“I’m sorry I just- I don’t know if I can jump back into where we were. I know that… it’s different than I thought but I can’t-” you cut yourself off before you said something you regret and a cold chill ran through you. “It still hurts. I can’t just unhear those things you said. Especially when they came from you. So, I’m going to need time to process everything.”

He placed one of his hands over your fidgeting fingers and you lifted your head to meet his soft eyes. “I’ll give you some space. Just let me know when you know, yeah?” Before you could nod your head, he had opened his door and got out of your vehicle. You quickly got out to question him.

“What are you doing?” He turns around at the sound of your voice.

“I’m… I’m giving you space?”

“How are you planning to get home? Uber?” He shrugged before nodding, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Uh, no. No. Get in.” He raised his eyebrows and you sighed. “It’s almost 11pm, we’re in a dark forestry area, and you are the least threatening person I know. I’m not going to let you get stabbed by some murder psycho; you still mean something to me, you know.”

At that he came over to the car, and the two of you got settled back into your seats. After you buckled up and started the engine, Tim broke his silence.

“Did you mean that? That I still mean something to you?”

You swallowed slowly and took a while to answer his question, your hand resting on the gear shift. You put the car in reverse, and looked over at him. “You’re always going to mean something to me. Just what exactly you are changes.” You backed out of the parking lot and started the drive to his place. He was quiet for a few minutes, pondering your answer, but when he spoke his voice had the quiet confidence he always carried around with him.

“Can I ask what I am right now?” Streetlights illuminated his face and out of the corner of your eye you see him slightly turned towards you, his face unsure.

“No. I’ll keep you updated?”

“Good enough.”

The rest of the drive back to his house was quiet, aside from the lo-fi beats you had playing in the background. Despite the tension, the drive felt comfortable. When you parked in front of his house, he cleared his throat.

“Um, thank you for the ride. I’ll see you around I guess,” He unbuckled his seat belt and placed his hand on the handle.

“Goodnight Tim.” Despite your smile, Tim really hoped your goodnight didn’t also mean goodbye. He got out of your car, walked up the steps to his door, unlocked it and gave you a small wave before he went inside.

Tim was true to his word. He gave you space. He didn’t go back to the lookout spot or the war memorial, knowing those were your sanctuaries before they were his. He didn’t ask for updates, he didn’t stop by your office, he didn’t ask Josh how you were doing.

And you appreciated it. The time and space left you alone with your thoughts and you often visited the lookout spot or the war memorial, trying to find some peace, but those spots were now shared with Tim. So, for the first time in a long time, you spent time in your apartment.

When you moved in, you hadn’t done anything to the place. Spaces were temporary in your experience. It was more hassle than it was worth to try to make the space your own if, in a year everything was a clean slate. But Dani was right. It had been close to six years now since you moved in. Six years. You had a stable job, you had friends here, it was time to accept that maybe this was more than temporary.

You started by unpacking the last few boxes that were stacked in the hallway. You replaced the command hooks hanging your picture frames with nails. You got new paint to liven up the living room from the basic beige it was before. You put the work into making your apartment really yours. You had to stop living behind walls and this was a first step.

The next step was to really open up.

***

You were waiting outside the dressing room for Tim to get out. You came down as soon as practice finished so you knew you wouldn’t miss him. You leaned against the cool concrete, trying to control your bouncing leg. He was one of the last out of the dressing room and you shyly smiled at the other players who left. When he came out, you popped off from the wall and stood in front of him.

“Do you still want to know why I picked hockey?” You could tell your question caught him off guard but he nodded nonetheless. “You had asked and I brushed it off...because it hurt to think about. Because it was my dad...He loved hockey. Everywhere we went, there was a team he could cheer for, but he always wished that his hometown team would win, no matter how bad they were. He took me to a game once. I had asked why he liked it so much, it was cold and loud and people were drunk and I’m pretty sure our team was losing. We were down in the crowd and he said to me, ‘Hockey is this great sport. It connects people. It creates families right before your eyes. Enemies can become teammates. This...this sport can be a family for you, anywhere you go. I hope one day you can find something that does the same thing for you.’ Two weeks later, he had a heart attack. So, I held onto the one thing that he found belonging in. I liked my math, it made sense, and I’m good at it. But when it came to doing something with my life, I just- I wanted something to make my dad proud of me, you know? I wanted to feel connected to him.”

Tim was silent but he pulled you into a hug, your head going into the crook of his neck. His arms went around your waist and he held you for a minute. “Your dad would be proud of you. I know he would. Why’d you tell me now though?”

“Well, friends share personal stuff, right?” You pulled away from the hug just enough to catch his eyes. You looked up at him hopefully, and he smiled.

“Yeah, they do.” He broke the hug, but kept an arm slung over your shoulder. “C’mon, friends also eat brussel sprouts for each other.” You laughed at his distaste for them and the two of you walked out the parking lot together, his arm still slung around your shoulders.

***

You looked up at the ceiling, your bedsheets twisted beside you. It had been about two weeks since you told Tim about your dad, and since then, the two of you had been exchanging texts daily. It felt familiar, even though both of you knew it was different. Not a bad different, just… different. You’d been over to his place a couple times and he came over for your place for a ‘welcome back’ dinner.

You were nervous to show him your apartment, but you knew you had grown into the space. It was no longer generic beige walls and command strips. The living room had an accent wall and you put nails in the wall to hang your family photos in the hallway. Tim took his time looking around your space, spending extra time in the hallway. He stopped in front of the picture of your family, all four of you, and smiled.

“My parents are coming into town when we play the Caps in December, if you want to meet them?” He had said when you sat down to eat. You sputtered your drink a little and set down the glass.

“Only if...you meet Dani when we go to Seattle in January?” His face broke into a grin and he nodded.

“I’d love that.” The rest of the dinner had no issues, just two friends catching up and getting familiar with each other again.

But he wanted you to meet his parents. He wanted you to meet the people who raised him, his family. And you didn’t have any hesitations. You wanted to meet the people who made Tim who he is.

This past week solidified that you knew what you wanted. You wanted to meet Tim’s family, you wanted to show him around Seattle, you wanted to be with him. If he still wanted to be with you.

If.

He had been pretty clear where he stood on his feelings, but the voice in the back of your mind taunted you with that one tiny two letter word. He might have seen how you reacted, how unstable you were, and how you weren’t ready to jump into things as a sign you didn’t want this. He could’ve taken your steps to being friends again as being just friends again. He could’ve-

You weren’t going to wait around to let what-if’s and might of’s and could’ve’s waft around in your head. You needed to talk to him, needed to see him. So in your pajama pants and a hoodie, you braved the Canadian night and drive to his house. You parked the car, rather haphazardly, but it could wait. You skipped a step walking up to his door and quickly phoned him.

You paced back and forth on the small porch as the phone rang three times before he picked up.

“Hallo?” His accent was thicker in his native language, the harsh constants sounding so soft from his lips.

“Can you come open the door?”

“What?”

“I’m outside. Can you open the door?”

“What? It’s like...early,”

A sigh escapes you. “Tim. I know. I know now.”

“Well if you looked at a clock before you left your place, you would’ve known earlier. That would’ve-”

“Tim.” You gulped and your voice trembled slightly. “I’m ready. I know what I want.” The tone of your voice dropped its lightheartedness and that alone was enough to shake the sleep from his mind. But your words? More than enough to get him out of bed and racing (as quietly as he could in the dark) towards you.

He opened the front door in his sleep joggers to see you pacing and shaking your arms. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he took the opportunity to admire you. The way your hair fell, your Senator pajama pants that Brady gave you as a gag gift, the way you bit your lip between your teeth.

“Hey.” His voice broke you out of your trance, your head whipping around to see him standing in the doorframe.

“Hi.” Your voice was quiet, the nerves getting the best of you. You stood there for a while, just looking at each other. His hair was a mess and he was wearing the grey hoodie you knew for a fact was his favourite. “Oh, right, I have to go first. Um...Are- are you still sure about your feelings for me?” He nodded. “And-and they’re for sure, good feelings?”

“… They’re such good feelings.” You nodded and gave your body another shake through, as if to dissipate the nerves racing throughout your veins.

“I know it’s taken me a while to kinda sort everything out but… I like you too. That’s why hearing those things hurt so much. That’s why I had to take some time. I've been alone for most of my life and it was scary to let someone in so easily, unknowingly. You just waltzed in and made yourself at home in my heart and it felt like you belonged so I… I didn’t even realize you could hurt me. And when I heard those things, it hurt more. It just solidified that I should’ve stayed alone. You can’t get hurt if there’s no one to hurt you right? But every talk, every late night drive, everything we had...it was worth all the hurt. So I’m ready. I want to do this with you, even if it hurts. I don’t know if I can do life without you.” He pushed himself off of the doorframe and came to stand in front of you, his hand cupping your cheeks, soothing the skin under your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you and I don’t plan on doing it ever again, Y/n, you have to know that.” You nodded against his hands and you could feel some of his tension fade from his body. “Does this mean… we could be more than friends?”

“I want to be much more than friends with you, Tim.” You bit your lip to try to stop your smile from growing so wide, but it broke through when you saw how wide his smile was and how his eyes crinkled with joy.

“Does this mean I can kiss you now?” He asked softly, already leaning in. He left space between the two of you so you could decide but you easily leaned into him, your lips meeting. It was gentle but it was loving. You moved in sync, Tim’s hand moving to the back of your head to push you closer to him. Eventually, you pulled away for air.

“Schatz…” He breathed and you laughed lightly.

“You know, I don't think you've told me what that really means,” You said with a cheeky smile.

“Would you like me to say it in English, sweetheart?” He brushed his nose with yours.

“Hmm, German is fine,” You tilted your head upwards, almost brushing your lips with his. With your teasing, he let out a groan, bringing you in for another kiss. This time he broke for air, his eyes still slightly closed.

“You know, you cured my homesickness. I never felt like I missed home because I found home in you,” He whispered. Your heart melted and you brought your lips together with a passion he hadn’t seen from you before. Your hands tangled in his hair and he chased your lips as if it was a breakaway. When you broke for air, the two of you were breathless.

“As much as I want to keep doing that, it’s also very early and I am tired. Can we go back to bed please?” His arms were still around your waist, but he leaned back enough that you could see his face, puppy dog eyes and all. You nodded to his request with a soft smile, and went to remove yourself from his arms and go back to your car, but he tightened his grip.

“I got you now, so I’m not letting you go.” You buried your head in the crook of his neck and slowly the two of you made your way into the warm house. He led you through the dark hallways to his bedroom, giggling and sneaking kisses where you could.

You fell asleep so easily, the quickest you have the entire time you had lived in Ottawa. And it wasn’t only Tim’s warmth, or the way his sheets smell like hockey tape and his peppermint shampoo. You had finally opened yourself up. You had found that belonging your dad always wanted you to. And you found that in Tim; whether he knew it or not, he was home.

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[heyitsyn]

Manager!Seijoh

a/n: im a seijoh stan and theyre my little plant babies

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

this is so long oml i hate myself

theyre an actual boy band istg

lets be honest, they probably thought you were just another oikawa fangirl

they thought you just wanted to be closer to their captain bc you were another delusional girl who wanted to live out her fantasies

lmao im not trying to be salty

but when you just stared blankly at oikawa tooru after he called you a beautiful flower,

stageplay hinata calling you a mugwort

the team just about threw themselves on your feet

tbh you werent really there to get a boyfriend or for oikawa

you just needed an after school club and the other teams already had managers

the only sport that didnt was the boys volleyball team

imagine why

you were actually a little wary, since you knew of oikawa, being a first year yourself, and you were aware of his psycho fangirls who could probably kill you

but you needed a club that would last you for the next 3 years to graduate

it was kunimi who actually recommended being a manager

you were in his class and you noticed him sleeping in the morning so you gave him your energy bar

‘thanks’

you shrugged and smiled

thats why he tolerated you more than others

you were nice and you were the only one who noticed his tiredness, even the teacher left him alone, and did something about it

sometimes, you even gave him an energy drink

‘can you tell me why youve been so tired lately? i dont think ive seen you wake up until lunch’

he opened the snack and started munching while replying

‘early morning practice for volleyball is still a big adjustment. our captain demands us to be there 6 in the morning sharp and if we’re even a minute late, we’d have to run laps. like for every minute youre late, you have to run those amount’

oh my why is kunimi talking so much

but i love kunimi and first year seijoh boys rights in this household is valid

you furrowed your eyebrows

‘but yall are still growing and you need all your sleep. if i were there, id yell at your captain’

he grinned slightly, imagining your short height beating up their captain

‘meh. you want to be our manager? i saw you looking at the clubs board yesterday and we dont have one so you could take the opportunity and beat him up then’

ofc you agreed bc kunimi was best boi and you just wanted him to have enough sleep for once

after class, he waited for you to finish packing up and when you finished, yall left the classroom

until another guy with a spiky hairstyle joined you and you noticed him as the guy who sometimes came over to eat lunch with kunimi

‘oh, hello l/n-san’

you smiled gently

‘drop the formalities, kindaichi-kun. its only fair.’

he nodded before walking beside kunimi

‘kindaichi, l/n might be our new manager’

the onion head excitedly looked at you

‘really?! yes! so we dont have to fill our bottles ourselves anymore!’

kunimi glared at him and slapped his stomach

‘shes our manager, not our maid’

you laughed but placed an arm on him

‘its okay. i was a manager for my middle school volleyball team so i know a little bit about being one’

the two shared a look

god, they really hit the jackpot

as yall walked closer to the gym, you noticed the big pile of girls huddling at the corner

kunimi sighed

‘l/n, ill warn you ahead of time of our captain. hes kinda,,,, too much’

but you flashed him a smile

‘hes not the first one ive handled’

oml player-chan!!!

so when you opened the door and entered the gym and oikawa hit you with his normal antics, you just stared at him

‘okay and?’

hanamaki and mattsun howled before rushing to you and grabbing you in a hug

‘girls like her really exist!!’

you gave kunimi and kindaichi a signal of help and they nodded before gently prying the senpais off of you

‘senpai, please’

you gave kunimi a grateful nod

coach irihata went up to you bc wow, kunimi has a friend with of another gender?

‘how can we help you, miss?’

‘im l/n y/n, first year, and id like to apply as the manager’

internally, the coach sighed bc you werent the first one to apply

the reason they havent had a manager for years was bc of oikawa’s fangirls hiding themselves under that false facade

but he saw you brush off that comment oikawa make with no hint of fluster or blush on your face so he decides to give you a trial run, in guise of seeing if you could handle these chaotic boys

‘do you have any experience as manager? or do we need to teach you the ropes?’

‘i was a manager for 3 years in my middle school volleyball’

he nodded

‘ill give you one month. a trial run of a month to test the waters’

you agreed and your trial run began

kunimi mentioned that morning practice starts at 6 am sharp so you set your alarm for 5 to get ready and get to school on time before the boys

you remembered how to set up the nets so you quickly put them out (using a step stool bc we short) and ran to get the basket of balls

their water bottles were filled and you were in the middle of lugging the big basket of towels when the third years entered

the 4 of them usually came earlier than the rest so they saw you dragging the basket of fresh towels and wipe your sweat before smiling at the work youve done

iwa was so happy bc it was usually him who did this stuff and now that he had someone do it for him, it was like a god-send

oikawa’s eyes shone and he waved at you

‘yohoo, y/n-chan!’

you cringed at the loud voice of the famous oikawa tooru

‘hello, oikawa-san’

he chuckled at your politeness before hugging you

‘you did all this for us? youre so cute, y/n-chan!’

instead of the normal blush and love-struck eyes, you were actually very uncomfortable of the sudden skinship and you quickly ran to the side when iwa hit him at the head

‘shittykawa! leave her alone!’

‘iwa-chan!’

makki and mattsun stood next to you as the boys did their usual fight

‘is this all an act or are you really not attracted to oikawa?’

mattsun shot him a surprised look bc why was he so straightforward

but you just shrugged

‘hes cute, i admit. but ive seen much cuter and the boys in my middle school team was basically full of him so,,, and i hate guys who think theyre all that just bc theyre blessed w a pretty face. if anything, ill probably go for iwaizumi-san’

pop off S I S T E R!!!

you just won the heart of these two

slowly but surely, they all came to accept you and iwa straight out loves you bc you maintained this routine for the whole month of your trial run

and you still remained indifferent of oikawa’s advances and he was even impressed and slightly agitated that you werent paying attention to him

‘y/n-chan, one date! just one!’

you huffed before looking up from your clipboard

‘i like men, oikawa-san. not boys’

that comment made the guys shriek

‘y/n-chan! youre just a first year! you dont need a man!’

‘youre not a man, oikawa!’

you left oikawa to be tormented by his teammates and went to go and hand over the report to the coach

he was impressed by the notes you made bc they were ones he even missed

like the split-second of hesitation that kindaichi usually has that goes unnoticed but you immediately saw

or the wince oikawa has whenever he so much as jumps an inch

you could even tell the difference between iwa’s spike and if he was being easy or he was going full-out

this added on to the fact that the boys loved you and irihata actually saw kunimi try more 

but he thinks its only to earn your praises

‘y/n, youre officially the team manager’

yall celebrated at the normal hang-out spot which was the ramen shop and it truly shocked you at how much these boys ate

granted, this was the first time you ate together but you didnt expect them to eat nearly 5 bowls each

you could only finish 2 and you already feel like throwing up

‘honestly, how do you guys not gain weight after this?’

the table you sat at, iwa, kindaichi, mattsun, and kunimi, looked at you and shrugged

‘i work out’

‘i run’

‘i fast’

‘i poop it out’

lmao im sorry i cackled too hard at this

you stared blankly at mattsun’s answer who said it so seriously that you snorted a laugh

they watched you and your laughter bc you havent really expressed yourself as much 

so they made it their goal to see you laugh more

‘y/n-chan! you need to eat more!’

oikawa shouted, clearly food drunk, but you shook your head aggressively

‘i only planned to eat one bowl but he just had to shove another down my throat’

‘but you need to grow, y/n-chan!’

‘i want to grow taller! not wider!!’

As a manager:

oh boy

you basically grew into kinda their mom

‘oikawa-san! you need to rest your knee or youre going to hurt yourself! i will drag you home myself!’

‘kunimi, if you try to get this one more spike, i’ll buy you a bag of those caramel bites you like’

‘iwa-san! if you hit oikawa-san too much, youll destroy the little braincells he has!’

‘yahaba-san, nice dump!’

‘is your knee okay, watari-san?’

yall really forget that watari and yahaba exist sometimes smh

it was part of the work

keeping up with seijoh

so to keep them encouraged, you gave them praises that they always demand for and they always turn to you whenever they did something good

mattsun gives you a look whenever he blocks iwa’s spikes and you give kindaichi a head pat whenever he blocks some too

bc of how you are with them, sometimes, they forget that you are actually just a first year

they get shocked whenever you walk in with kunimi and kindaichi and talk about the current homework bc it slips their mind that their hard-working manager was actually just a 15-year-old girl

so, they try to ease the burden whenever they can

like iwa offering to help you whenever you have to take their jerseys to the laundrymat

or offering to help you with your assignments since theyve only been through it once

more like watari, yahaba, and iwa bc the matsuhana are clueless and acts like they completely skipped that grade

also

!!!!

oikawa’s fangirls ltr dont leave you alone!!!

now, its known that youre the manager of the volleyball team bc oikawa has boasted about your efforts and such

this obvs ticked off a bunch of girls bc they were jealous that you got to spend more time in a single practice with their precious oikawa-senpai than they have their entire lives

more than once theyve cornered you to threaten you to stay away from their senpai or youll have something coming for you

you never take them seriously bc you can fight too and you just give them a look and push them away

but this one time

TRIGGER WARNING-START

okay tea

the self-proclaimed president of the oikawa tooru fanclub, kenta miyo, cornered you at the bathroom with her other minions

you were just washing your hands and drying them off when she marched up to you and grabbed your hair before tugging it back

obviously you were surprised and shouted

‘oi! what the hell?!’

‘you slut! you need to stay away from my tooru, got it?!’

ehm what

you hissed and wrenched her arm from your hair and pushed her away

your hair was now a mess and you were fuming, already sick and tired of the torture these girls put you through

‘he belongs to himself, not you! so stop being delusional and leave me alone already!’

she signalled for the girls to hold on to you which you slapped away but they forcefully grabbed your arm while you kicked at them and struggle to get out of their hold

jesus what do these girls eat

miyo watches you struggle with a smile and cackles

‘oh? no fight anymore, little kouhai?’

you glared at her

‘i dont want to beat yall up bc id get yelled at by tooru so you need to let me go or regret it’

at the mention of his first name, her eyes widened and her face twisted and she slapped you

‘oi! respect your senpai, you brat! dont you ever say oikawa’s first name!’

your lips curled

‘oh? thats funny, because he actually told me to call him that since he wants his cute little manager to be very comfortable with him’

you achieved a feat that she has been working to get her entire high school life and miyo was not happy

‘ive been with him for 3 years and you just suddenly show up out of nowhere and call him that?! i dont think so!’

she had her hands around your neck and you gripped her arms, making her wince

but you laughed at that comment

‘heh, thats pathetic, isn’t it? here you are, my senpai, who has been vying for his attention for 3 years only to be ignored yet a mere first year, who shows up out of nowhere, has been asked to a date nearly a million times every day. that must be tough’

she shrieked at that comment and threw you on the floor, making you accidentally hit your head at the edge of the sink

yall im actually so bothered by this scene and im wincing as im typing

you bit your lip to prevent any sound of pain to escape bc you knew thats what she wanted to hear from you

but you werent going to give her the satisfaction

instead, you looked up at her, hatred swirling in your eyes

‘youre freaking psycho, you know that? once tooru and hajime knows about this, theyre going to give you hell. they wont ever let this go bc im the manager of their prized team and their little baby sister. so go ahead, do what you want with me. bc i paid too much for these nails to be tainted by dirt like you’

saiyo, a girl you noticed to be watari’s classmate when you went and visited him, nervously tugged on miyo’s jacket

‘miyo, we should go-’

‘SHES BLUFFING. AND HERE, SINCE YOUR SOCCERFIELD FOREHEAD IS BLEEDING, LET ME HELP WASH IT OUT’

and she poured over a carton of banana milk over you, making you wince at the sticky and cold liquid

the tough facade was crumbling and you were now screaming for help in your head, hoping that stupid theory from yahaba about team telepathy to work

but it didnt

TRIGGER WARNING-END

when miyo and her girls left, you sat on the floor, soaked and sticky and bleeding

then you begin to cry angry tears

you were angry that you were being treated like this just bc you were a manager

you were angry that you let them do that to you

you were angry that you prized your nails more than punching her square in the nose

you were just angry

periodt

staggering on your own feet, you stood up and leaned on the sink, eyes widening at the dripping red liquid from the gash on your forehead, staining the porcelain sink

you were stupid and unconsciously touched it making you wince 

‘shit, that hurts’

you whined quietly

there was little you can do with toilet paper and water to clean yourself up but you managed to at least stop the bleeding

you knew you had to be put on concussion protocol just in case bc you that hit was quite hard but at the moment, that wasnt your concern

practice has already started and this was the first time you werent present for daily practice

this was confirmed at the constant buzzing of your phone in your skirt pocket which you didnt listen to and instead, started thinking of ways to go to your locker and get your stuff and fake being sick but at the same time, not be seen and relayed to the team

time was ticking and you had to come up with a plan fast before oikawa will send the team to come looking around the building for you

once you looked at your reflection and smiled big, you decided it was enough to not show the pain you were in right now

girl im hurting for you

you peeked out of the bathroom door and saw the coast was clear so you quickly ran to your classroom, which was thankfully empty, and quickly grabbed your things

but as you were packing up, the tears just kept falling

it didnt stop as you bolted down the stairs, using your cardigan to hide your face from the public

once you were safely out of school grounds, you finally took out your phone and reviewed through all the worried and concerned texts from the team group chat

but you just replied, ‘im fine but i just feel really sick right now. girl stuff’

you smirked, knowing that would keep the boys away

but oikawa had to go and ask you to call him

‘y/n-chan! do you want oikawa-senpai to come over with chocolates and ice cream?! wings or no wings?!’

your jaw dropped at the question and clearly scandalized by the question

the team was too as shouting began and you could faintly hear iwa scream, ‘oh my god, shittykawa!’

‘im seriously okay, oikawa-san. i just need to be alone right now and ill try and get some sleep. good bye’

then you hung up

there was no way you could tell them

they were in their last year anyways so doing something about it wouldnt matter

and you were strong 

but apparently not strong enough to fight them off though

you would cover the wound with concealer and continue on with practice tomorrow as if everything was normal

but there was only so much you could take

just yesterday, they trashed your locker and a week ago, they took your bento and threw it away

you even got into a fight with this one girl but she scampered away, too scared to do anything alone

so you were actually just tired and want everyone to leave you alone

believe me, youve thought of quitting sometimes

but youve actually created a bond with these boys

like when you take hanamaki to get cream puffs whenever he loses against iwa in arm wrestling

or when yahaba calls you at ungodly hours to express his worries for next year and to fill oikawa’s shoes

it was simple moments that you shared with each player that kept you from not leaving

soon, you found yourself crying again and the looks pedestrians were giving you was starting to make you uncomfortable

a girl, with her gross hair in a bun, puffy eyes with a bleeding wound and walking down the street

that was a sight

so you cut a corner to an alley by your house to escape from the judging eyes and you were too busy wiping your eyes to see a boy who was crouched down on the floor and ended up walking over him

omg my baby kyoken hello luv!!!!

you gasped and you were surprised and quickly apologized

kyotani was originally about to yell at you, no matter what, but he saw the state you were in and concluded you were either from a fight or was beaten up

he recognized that and decided to just glare at you and go back to feeding the stray dogs and cats

you breathed a sigh in relief when he didnt yell at you bc that wouldve been the last thing you needed today

‘sir, im sorry for hitting you. if there is something i could do for you, dont hesitate’

he ignored you and you focused on him paying attention to the strays

going into your backpack, you had a milk carton and a sausage stick from earlier

you used your thermos lid to serve as the milk bowl for the cats while you peeled open the meat and used your scissors to cut chunks of it for the dogs to have some

kyotani watched as you went into action to feeding the animals that people usually ignored

he knew you

well, he recognized you

when he watched from the top of the gym, he saw you as their manager who ran around and helped everyone

sure, he still didnt trust you 

but he watched you grin and smile as the animals started to eat

‘im in a hurry right now so i have to go but ill feed you again tomorrow, okay? you too, stranger-san. ill bring food for you too’

then you stood up and ran away, probably in a hurry to fix that wound

he wouldve offered to treat it for you but he remained silent, watching the cats mewl at the now empty lid

the next day, oikawa was worried for you and when he saw you at early morning practice, he practically glomped to your side

‘y/n-chan! you okay?! oikawa-senpai was so worried for you!’

you cringed but nodded

‘im okay, oikawa-san’

‘senpai, y/n-chan! call me senpai!’

‘im not going to feed into your kink, oikawa-san’

*cue everyone busting a lung*

to this day, no one still knew what happened to you

you kept it quiet and you were sure you got everything handled

except for one person

kyotani was smart and for some reason he knew you got beat up by the fangirls and the perpetrators were easily found bc he saw them huddled around your locker, probably trashing it again, and lets just say, 

no one is def going to mess w you now

back to manager moments!!

during practice matches, the boys rally around you to prevent other teams from sweet-talking you

they make sure no one gets past them and always have excuses to get your attention

you knew what they were doing but you pretended not to, heart warming at their protectiveness and hunger for your attention

even though you have your own jacket, the team gives you theirs all the time like oikawa has his special team jacket w his name at the back and when he feels threatened by schools like johzenji, he makes you wear it

‘youre mine, y/n-chan and i want that blondie to know’

‘ehm, no, oikawa-san. im iwaizumi-san’s’

oikawa screamed

lmao training camps w them is CHAOTIC

YOU WANT TO CRYYYYYY

OIKAWA IS CRYING BC IWAIZUMI IS BEATING HIM UP, MATSUHANA ARE FREAKING OUT THE FIRST YEARS ABOUT THE GHOSTS IN THE WOODS AND NOW KINDAICHI REFUSES TO LET GO OF YOU, WATARI GOT LOST GOING TO THE BATHROOM AND YAHABA IS SCREAMING ABOUT THE WEATHER MESSING UP HIS HAIR AND MAKING IT FRIZZY

reminder: threaten to quit everytime they get too much

your hugs are the best!!!!

you have a special hug for every player

oikawa gets his favorite which was the normal arm around the waist with your arms around his neck while he snuggles in your neck

iwa gets flustered easily so you hug him from behind so you cant see his flustered look

mattsun actually likes the jumping in the air so he catches you type of hug

makki is more tame and has his arms around your shoulder with his chin on your head

yahaba is the twirly kind where he just picks you up and swings you around

watari also gets flustered easily so he likes the one-arm hugs

kindaichi gets blushy at the slightest touch from you but he gives you a hug from behind you himself where he can bury his face in your hair while you caress his arms

kunimi, now he likes it when you squeeze him extremely tight bc it makes him feel loved and feel alive

kyo doesnt even talk to you what makes you think you can give him a hug

their lost for shiratorizawa really broke them though

you made them their own bentos for nearly a week to keep them encouraged and gave oikawa extra attention to keep him from sulking or practicing late

‘oikawa-senpai, lets go watch that new movie later’

‘S-S-SENPAI?!’

then the arrival of our baby kyoken

yahaba was moody the whole practice and you were currently trying to keep him from spiking a ball to someone

‘even just today, he’s late’

‘who?’

‘that stupid dog’

he just keeps mumbling and grunting

and then the said dog arrived

you peaked out from behind iwaizumi, who protectively went in front of you

shock ran through you and you pointed at him

‘puppy-kun!’

lmao puppy what

youve called him that since he refused to tell you his name, but you call him that bc he paid special attention to this one baby beagle

he raised a hand in greeting and you gave him a smile

‘youre a player here, too?!’

he ‘glared’ at you but nodded stiffly

the team really thought that he would lash out at you but he is surprisingly tolerant

the power of the manager

he still hasnt talked to you but he does respond to you and even helps you with chores, still not talking ofc

hes so tsun tsun and he deserves my heart yall

however, youve heard him talk to iwaizumi, and iwaizumi only, so youve heard his voice before

ngl, you were flustered by how gruff and deep it was

then their loss to karasuno

bruh, it was KARASUNO

the entire team fell apart and after the match, each of them ran away from you to stop lashing out

you were also on the verge of crying, seeing the broken look on your third years

your precious third years

you decided to give them their own space but you heard a loud banging sound from the bathroom

yahaba and watari were outside, clearly trying to talk to someone in there on coming out but it got louder

okay you were lowkey like, ‘hm, i should not be here’

but you recognized that voice

you knocked at the boys door to be respectful

‘kyo-san? its me, y/n’

he was silent but he did unlock it

you took this as a sign to enter and you gave yahaba and watari a smile

‘i’ll be fine. go to kindaichi and kunimi. they need your comfort right now’

tbh, you were surprised the bathroom was still intact but you saw the stall door at the very end being rattled and shaken

you remained by the door but you wanted to go to him

‘kyo-san, please come out so i can treat your injuries’

he expected you to say those words like ‘its okay’ or ‘theres always next year’ but you didnt

instead, you knew he was hurt and wanted to help him

he continued to give a few punches to the wall and the door before emerging

you wordlessly treated the wounds and offered your hand

‘im here, kyo-san. dont worry, im right here’

at the ramen shop, you told them to eat as much as they want and wordlessly gave them your card, slightly crying inside bc you know this was going to be like over a hundred dollars

but you were treating the boys bc they deserved it

you sat beside kindaichi, who was just sobbing and apologizing, so you were wiping his tears and holding his hand under the table

this precious babie

bruh i was sobbing when i watched this part like uuggghhhh

after dinner, you walked with the other third years, knowing they would go to the gym, so you gave everyone else your special hugs before sending them home

‘text me when you arrive safely, okay?’

‘yes, mom’

‘KINDAICHI WHAT’

oikawa’s speech made you cry bc despite only knowing them for not even a year, you already feel like a family

you didnt want your family to be broken but you knew they would all go their separate ways eventually

there was a big hug pile of third years on the side where you took a picture and sent it to the group chat

you had to eventually go home after helping them clean up and when you checked your phone, a fresh batch of tears rolled down

each from every person on the team but with the same sentence and same words

‘we love you, l/n y/n. thanks for everything.’

ngl i dont think this was that good and its like 8 in the morning and im extremely tired

i want to do karasuno, nekoma, and fukurodani but im so exhausted i cannot right now

[kimnjss]

slumber party | pjm

⤑  series: less of you

⤑ pairing: fratboy!jimin x dancer!reader

⤑ genre: angst !! a lil bit of smut.

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 10.1K // unedited bc im tired . 

⤑ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, slight dry humping, making out at a party, slight exhibitionism kink if you squint, jimin like bites her once i think, handjob, spit, cum licking, jimin sleeps with his hand in her pants to keep warm.

⤑ chapter song: dark side of the moon // lil wayne ft. nicki minaj 

⤑ A/N: idk what it is, but i can’t shut up when it comes to loy!jimin // also very important to note that jimin did not invite miju to the slumber party in hopes she’d bring yn ., it was yoongi who asked jimin if he would invite miju . okay!! without any more chit chat e n j o y !! and let me know what you think x 

Taehyung is the one to answer the front door moments after Miju excitedly rocked her knuckles against the wood. A furry pooch clutched to his side, decked out in an authentic-looking Hugh Hefner robe complete with the black slippers. Seoyeon is right behind him, slender arms wrapped around his torso as she pouts for his attention.

He pays her no mind, pushing a boxy grin onto his face as he stares between you and your best friend. “Miju! You look great,” She does, so you understand the blatant why he checks her out as the two of you move to enter the house.

Of course, Miju wanted to go all out for tonight. Totally convinced that this night would change everything for her and Jimin. That there was no way he wouldn't fall for her with her after the night of warm closeness and scary movies. No doubt, he'd be inviting her to spend the night in his room... some signature thing that always seemed to happen at these lingerie parties.

You had decided to call it what it was. Branded as a huge slumber party, where everyone could sit around and watch movies, eat snacks, and relax – but you weren't an idiot. Nobody was going to pay attention to the flicks on the screen and there was no way anyone would relax. Not with dozens upon dozens of college girls prancing around in their nighties.

It took all of your efforts... and energy, to convince Miju that buying an all lace negligee was definitely not the way to approach this situation. Words slightly fueled by the bit of fear that Jimin might actually like the way she looked in the thin fabric, instantly pushing the thought to the back of your mind. It was for her own good, not jealousy that you were steering her away from the lingerie aisle.

After quite a bit of debate (multiple interruptions of random messages lighting up your phone from Jimin), she was deciding on a set the both of you could agree on. Excitement clouding her features as she held up the matching pair, insisting that you bought it so you could be twins. You were agreeing, no hesitation needed. Not even bothering to actually look at the thing, just ready to make her as happy as possible. That was the guilt gnawing at your chest.

Which was exactly why you were back in this sleazy living room, freezing your ass off (literally) once again. Despite the set being made completely of velvet, the shorts were so incredibly short that you wondered if maybe you had picked up the wrong size – cropped tank allowing a chill on your midriff.

You could already feel the stares from the guys sprawled around the room, granted to both you and your best friend. Miju, though, acted as if she didn't notice... reaching back to find your hand – she's gently tugging you forward.

“Jimin said to meet him in the den,” Ignoring the way your heart drops at the mention of his name, you just nod. Following behind her, all while reminding yourself that seeing him wasn't going to change anything. That you could easily stick to your guns, no matter how many times he flashed that pretty crooked smile.

The fact that he and his little friends felt the need to seclude themselves... when the party they were hosting wasn't even all that big, had you rolling your eyes. Just from a quick glance, there were no more than ten people in their living room – half of which you were sure lived there, or spent so much time around that they knew where everything was.

Despite it not being real crowded... or loud out in the living room, Taehyung was the only one sat mingling with the group of guests. And you had a feeling that it had a lot to do with the fact Seoyeon didn't want to ditch her friends to sneak into his room just yet.

Just like Miju had said, Jimin was in the den along with Yoongi and Joon. A pretty girl with long dyed red hair sat upon Joon's lap, fingers raking through his hair. She had definitely gotten the lingerie memo, see-through lace covering her 'valued' bits, a lace robe draped over her shoulders.

Yoongi laid sideways on the armchair, scrolling through his phone with a bag of chips on his stomach. You watch the crumbs tumble from the bag and onto the floor as he lifts his body to a seated position, smiling eyes meeting Miju. “You made it,” Jimin's eyes shift behind him, nosily peaking to see who Yoongi was speaking with.

The grin that takes over his features has liquid fire instantly cruising through your veins, cheeks darkening as you easily place the look he's pining you with as the same look he gave you with his head between your legs. Jimin's standing, pushing a hand through his dark locks despite them already being swept back.

He looks good, annoyingly so. Hair carefully styled to reveal his dark eyebrows and oddly attractive forehead. A pair of wide-rimmed circular glasses perched at the tip of his nose. You can't help but notice how perfectly the black and white pinstripe robe outlines his lean body, it's left open to reveal the white t-shirt he wears underneath, the black sweats hanging off his hips.

Those hips... you remember how they felt pressed against yours. Legs wrapped around his waist, holding him tight against you. He had been so hard against your pussy, could feel every ridge and curve of his length. A shame that you didn't get to feel him stretch you out, cum around his thick cock. Yet, you don't think you'd trade the feeling of those fingers for anything. He definitely knew what he was doing in that department.

It takes a moment for you to realize that you're staring and Jimin is glancing at you, curiosity riddling his features. Had he just said something? Were you really that zoned out that you didn't hear him talking directly to you... standing right in your face? Was this what you've really become? How disgusting.

“What?”

A smirk plays on his lips, ignoring the obvious attitude on your tongue. Jimin's eyebrow arches, eyes slowly trailing over the curves of your body, the image of what you looked like underneath him, screaming his name... is instantly clouding his thoughts. “I didn't say a thing,” He speaks slowly, eyes taking their time to find your face again.

“Quit staring at me,” You mumble as you move to pass him, following the path Miju had but instead of taking the seat on the too small seat beside Yoongi, you're plopping down beside Joon and his girl for the evening.

Instantly, she's pulling her face from the crook of his neck. Lipstick smeared as she shoots you a squinted eyed glare. Warning in her eyes, feeling as if you had gotten too close to what she had claimed as hers. You're lifting your hands in mock defense, “Not interested,” She rolls her heavily shadowed eyes, before burying her face again.

Joon is turning to look at you the best he can with his human-sized leech, arm extended offering of a knuckle tap. You knock your fingers against his slightly, “Didn't think I'd ever see you again, what's up?”

Simply shrugging your shoulders, you decide that's response enough. Convinced that Jimin had informed his entire friend circle of what took place in his bedroom. Although, he didn't seem like the type... at least, not with you. But a guy was a guy, no matter how you sliced it.

“You want to choose the movie, Miju?” Jimin's offering up just as Taehyung comes tumbling into the room. Seoyeon two steps behind him, arms linked with two girls that you could only assume were apart of her 'clique'. Hoonie is behind them, fingers toying with the ends of one of the girl's ponytail.

Miju nods at Jimin's words, hopping up instantly to follow him to the array of movies that he had assorted on a bookshelf. It's hard not to stare as the two of them talk quietly in front of the shelf, searching through the names and laughing while they quote bits from movies they've both seen.

Not even standing there for more than seven minutes... you definitely did not count, but you see it all. Can't take your eyes off of them as she laughs at whatever funny thing he's saying, leaning into him as she speaks – batting her eyelashes up at him. He's smiling so brightly down at her, genuine. And you feel sick to the stomach, hate the feeling as soon as you recognize it. But you can't get yourself to look away, even though you feel Taehyung watching you watching them from the spot he chose on the floor, you can't get yourself to look away.

They're coming back with the movie picked hanging from the tips of Miju's manicured fingers. She's moving to pop it into the DVD player as Jimin goes to turn off the lights. It's Zombieland, a movie that you know for a fact Miju hated the first time you saw it together. She's still all smiley as she takes her place beside Yoongi on the couch.

You're so focused on them and the way he seems to curl inside of himself with her so close, yet, at the same time attempt to move closer to her without it being obvious. So focused that you don't notice Taehyung lifting from the floor and taking Jimin's original spot, Seoyeon in his lap. 

Don't notice Jimin make a beeline to the vacant spot beside you on the couch, not until there's warmth against your thigh and you're being engulfed with the strong scent of cinnamon.

It's not until halfway through the movie do you notice the shift... in everyone that's littered around the too small den. Hoonie's got his hand around the ponytail girl's shoulders, tips of his fingers tracing the lace at the top of her bra while the other girl tries to scoot closer, feigning for attention.

Seoyeon's head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut as Tae draws intricate patterns on the warm skin of her neck with his tongue. A large hand gripped on her bottom, holding her still on his lap – which is absolutely useless because the girl is squirming.

Joon and that girl have been on the verge of fucking since before you even entered the room, so it's no wonder that she has her hand down the front of his pants. She's trying to be discreet, but he doesn't hide the groans that fall from his lips. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was practicing for a porno with how loud he was being.

There's a nervous tap of Yoongi's foot, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tries his hardest to keep his focus on the movie. Only half listening to the commentary coming from Miju beside him, who seems oblivious to the beginning stages of a parted orgy happening all around her.

It's Jimin who strikes your interest the most... yes for obvious reasons, but also for how quiet he has been since he sat next to you. Long legs crossed under his butt, eyes trained on the giant TV upfront, not a single glance sent in your direction. Not once. Not even a little sneaky one paired with that annoying smirk.

You can't help but wonder... wish that you could peak into his mind. A quick glance at his thoughts... were you in them?

All of a sudden he's standing, adjusting the robe on his body. He's making his way to the door without a word. Miju's eyes flicker to the movement, watching him walk out and you can't help the silent prayer that she doesn't follow after him. She doesn't, just brings her stare back to the screen.

You give it a good five minutes before you're standing from your spot, convincing yourself you're only leaving in search of something to drink. It's exactly what you mumble to Joon (who couldn't care less, to be completely honest) as you move to exit the room. The kitchen is just across from the den and that's exactly where you're heading... to get some water... but then you're eyes are catching the movement to your right.

Of course, it's Jimin. He's exiting the bathroom, drying the palms of his hands on his dark bottoms. Pining you with a wide-eyed expression that's slowly morphing into a smirk and waking up your heart. With a drag of his tongue on his plump lower lip, he's shifting his weight onto one foot. “You followed me?” He's assuming, ever so cocky and annoying.

Instantly, you're rolling your eyes, scoffing at his words before moving to walk ahead of him. “I just came to get a drink.” He's hot on your tail, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body against your chilled skin.

“There's drinks in there. Snacks too.” He's pointing out with a grin, which you ignore completely; entering the rest of the way into the kitchen. The party has picked up since you first arrived, very different from what was going on in the quiet lust ridden den. There's music playing out here, people drinking, laughing loudly amongst each other. All in pajamas.

Now you're understanding their desire to seclude themselves from the rest of the party. Obviously, it was just a thing that they did. Branded as a fun time where you could party in your pajamas, but the inner circle? The people inside of that den right now about to give a new meaning to pillow fight, yeah – that's what this party was really for.

Is that why he had invited Miju? Wanted to have her a part of his little inner circle? But you had come along and ruined his plans. Was that why he wasn't talking to you before in there? Pissed off that you showed up?

“I didn't get a chance to tell you how pretty you look in your pajamas,” His voice is soft even though he's standing right behind you. Eyes scanning over the various drinks that are displayed on the table, looking for something... anything nonalcoholic. Just barely registering his words, you nod your head. “They're the same as Miju's.” You point out, smiling triumphantly to yourself when you locate a water bottle hidden in the far back.

“I noticed. The two of you are really best friends, huh?” He's closer than you think when you turn around. Body instantly caged between his and the counter. Time seems to freeze as your eyes catch his wide ones, water bottle clutched in your palms as you stare at him. Butterflies waking up in your stomach as he stares right back, dark eyes searching your features.

You're forcing yourself to shake it off, straightening your back and clearing your throat. That just there? That was nothing. Not a moment. Not a discovery. Nothing. Feigning nonchalance, you're answering his question. 

“Yeah, since we were six. Which is why-” Ready to reject him again. Knowing all too well what that look in his eye meant. Too familiar with the heat pooling between your legs, just from being this close to him; just from him looking at you like he was literally holding back from devouring you right here against the counter.

He's interrupting you before you can finish your sentence, though. “I know,” Rolling those pretty eyes of his and you don't miss the annoyance in his tone. “...we can't, but I want to.” A slight whine mixed in his tone, his head lowering slightly while his body moves closer against yours.

He hasn't touched you yet, despite how much you want him to. Just entered your space until he was clouding your senses. Knew exactly what he was doing, because you couldn't think when he was this close, teeth worrying his plump lower lip and you want nothing more to replace them with your own.

“Push me away,” Jimin's whispering now, faces mere inches apart that there's no reason for him to speak any louder. It's a gruff tone that has your pussy clenching around absolutely nothing. He waits, giving you a moment to think it over – figure out your next move. But you don't move, you stare at him – waiting for him, challenging him.

A smirk spreads across his lips, caught only for a minute before he's closing the rest of the space between you, molding his lips onto yours. The desperate groan that falls from his mouth is urging you on, hand wet with condensation, you're lifting it to place at the back of his neck – pulling him closer to you.

Faintly, you remember his words from the other night. How he let slip that he could kiss you all night. Right now, at this moment, you found yourself agreeing with him. Not seeing yourself getting enough of the feeling that enveloped your body just from having his lips on yours. 

His thick tongue is pushing its way past your lips, fingers gripped against the counter while he moves his body toward you. Even through the layers, your body is still reacting to having his chest pressed against yours. Nipples pebbling underneath the velvety fabric. And all you can think is you want more. Every last thought falling from your head as you drop the bottle onto the floor, fingers curling into the waistband of his sweats to pull his hips against yours.

“Mmh, you eager baby?” The words are mumbled against your lips, a giggle leaving your lips with a nod of your head. Hand on his neck pulling him closer, you kiss him again rougher this time. Needier. Jimin is thrusting his hips forward and you feel his half hard cock press against your thigh. 

“What do you want?” His hands are dropping to your hips, easily lifting your body onto the counter. Bottles and cups clatter onto their sides, but he pays them no mind; simply moving to stand between your legs.

It's mindless, the way your legs wrap around his hips so you're able to pull him close. Fingers knitted in his hair and head drawn back to give his plump lips as much room as they need to roam your heated skin. “You want me to fuck you? Right here on the counter where anyone can walk in?” He's biting into your skin, pulling a breathy gasp from your lips. His words are getting to you, your imagination running wild with the picture he paints.

Hips rolling up into yours, you're not hesitating with meeting his thrust. It feels so good that you don't bother to mask your moans either, instead allow your hips to take on a mind of their own. Thighs tightening around his hips in an attempt to feel more of him.

“You want me to? You're so fucking dirty...” He's panting, trying to keep it together – but it's hard with the way you look right now. Uninhibited, needy just for him. Nipples creating peaks against the soft fabric, it takes all his willpower not to lean down and wrap his lips around them. He's just about to let go and do it when he's catching the crack of the door behind you.

Jimin's quick with the way he slides your body from the counter, gently pushing you toward the fridge as he busies himself with picking up the bottles you had knocked over. A 'what the fuck' is on the tip of your tongue, but you're words are being cut by the sound of the voice.

“Minmin? Are you not watching the movie anymore?” It's Miju, naturally pouty lips directed at Jimin. Your eyes are wide, discreetly trying to adjust your shorts that seemed to have ridden up. Heart beating a mile a minute and cheeks flushed, you're glad she's all the way on the other side of the room. And paying like zero attention to you.

Jimin's head bobs at her words, reaching for a farther bottle that was moments from rolling off the table and shattering. “Yeah. I just went to the bathroom and wanted to clean up a bit.” She's nodding her head, tilting to the side and finally noticing you. Her brows furrow slightly. “You left too?”

Back straightening, you're clearing your throat. An arm wrapping around your chest to cover your pert nipples as you push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I... uh, I came out for some water.”

“Oh! There's drinks in there, you know? Minmin set them all up,” She's looking up at him with glowing eyes, and he smiles at her compliment. “Not cold ones,” He's pointing out and you're nodding, in agreement.

“Yeah... I wanted cold water,”

Miju is nodding, no longer interested in the topic. “Okay. Well, hurry! It's almost finished,” Your nod matches Jimin's and she's smiling wide before turning and heading back into the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Jimin is turning to you the moment she's out of earshot, apologetic eyes searching the stoic features of your face. “I'm so sorry, Yn. I shouldn't have-,” You're stopping him with a shake of your head, lips tucked into your mouth. Leaning down, you pick out the dropped bottle, not sparing him a glance as you pass him to join the loud party.

Should've done this in the first place, you needed to keep your distance. It was too hard to control yourself around him and you were only making things worse thinking that you could. It'd be easy, just stay away... erase all thoughts of him. Keep yourself from replaying the way he kissed you, touched you, talked to you. How he seemed to know exactly what you liked.

Forget how your stupid heart never seemed to shut up when he was close, those simpleminded butterflies flapping their stupid wings every time he smiled at you. You could just shake all of that off.

It would be easy.

The rest of the night is spent like that. Careful to keep your distance, instead halfheartedly mingling with the crowd of party-goers. Mainly sticking to the familiar faces from around campus, who grin with an offer alcoholic beverages and a step closer to wiping your mind of all things Jimin.

It's not long before you start to feel good, the sway in your steps becoming natural as the people around you become funnier. More interesting. Entertaining. Conversation coming easily as you delve deeper into the lives of your nameless classmates. Convinced you could keep up with this until you were feeling tired enough to crash. Before you knew it, it would be the next morning and you could pack it up and go home scratch free.

That was what you thought. What you hoped. Didn't take into account that the crowd would dwindle down as the night went on. And you definitely didn't expect the 'inner circle' to emerge from the den at all until morning. But as the living room started to slowly clear out, they began to appear one by one.

Hoonie is first, the girl that had been trying to get his attention tucked underneath his arm as he leads her upstairs. The shorts he wears sag low and you wonder if that was something that happened during the movie. A large hand placed on her bare ass used as an excuse to guide her into his room.

You sit on the couch, nursing your third fill of spike pink lemonade staring at the door. Silently hoping that Jimin doesn't come out, that he's fallen asleep sometime in the two and a half hours that you were out of there. Or if he does come out, he's coming out with Miju on his arm – ready to spend the night with her and you'd have no choice but to deal with it.

Yoongi is leaving the room twenty minutes after Hoonie wearing his signature annoyed expression. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, he doesn't spare you a glance (you're not even sure he knows you're sitting right there) as he makes his way up the steps and into his room, pushing the door closed.

Then it's Taehyung ten minutes after that. Seoyeon wrapped around him like a koala, head buried in his neck. He doesn't head to his room as you expect, instead, he's making a beeline to the kitchen, setting her down on the counter. The same counter Jimin had you on, ready to 'fuck you where anyone can walk in'. They giggled amongst each other, sharing quiet words as he fixes drinks for both of them. Drinks you're sure they don't need what with the drunk in love expression written all over that girl's face.

Miju is exiting with the Ponytail Girl, her eyes finding you instantly. She smiles big, lifting both of her hands to wave as they make their way over. “This was where you were? How come you didn't come back in?” She's plopping beside you on the couch, tugging her new friend to sit down beside her.

“I saw some friends from class, figured I'd chat for a bit,” You lie. Miju is laughing at your words, head tilting to the side slightly. “You hate chatting. And as far as I know, everyone in your classes,” She eyes you suspiciously, big eyes searching your features for any sign of abnormality. You keep your expression stoic, silent prayers sent that she doesn't pick up on your inner turmoil.

But then, she gives up. Deciding it's easier to just ask rather than try to read you herself. “You're not mad, right? That I dragged you along tonight.” With a shake of your head, you're pushing a bright smile onto your face.

“No, not at all. I had a good time,” She smiles wide at your words, hopping up from the couch and pulling Ponytail up. “This is Yuri, by the way. They're setting up tents outside and she invited me to share, you want to come?” Huh, so that's where everyone was heading.

You couldn't help but admire how well these boys seemed to pay attention to detail. To host a giant slumber party and not want dozens of drunk half adults sprawled around your house, simply have tents ready to be set up so they can all crash there. If Miju was heading out to the tents, though... did that mean nothing happened with Jimin?

“I'll catch up. Gonna finish my drink and enjoy the music.” Miju nods happily, linking arms with Yuri before the both of them are basically skipping out back. You want to wonder about Jimin, ready to try and figure out why nothing happened between him Miju but your thoughts are quickly interrupted by a deep voice.

“You're not coming in?” It's Taehyung. Holding two cups in his hand, eyes following Seoyeon as she makes her way back into the den. Brow furrowing and head tilting to the side, you're sure you look like the epitome of confusion. He's rolling his dark eyes at you, blowing out a thick huff of air. “Joon's girl passed out. So it's just me, him, Min and Yeonie. You're just gonna sit there all night?”

He waits a good two seconds before his patience is snapping, shifting the cups so he's holding them by the top between the long fingers of his right hand. Taehyung reaches for your wrist in his now free hand, lifting you from the couch and pulling you toward the den. “You're one of the cool kids now, act like it.” He's quoting a song... or a movie, you can't quite place it but you're sure you've heard those words before.

Jimin is scowling at his phone when you enter, thumb tapping rhythmically against the screen. He's sat cross legged on the couch beside the passed out redhead, Joonie on the other side of her annoyance creasing his brow. Taehyung is dropping your hand to slip into the vacant space beside Seoyeon, lifting her onto his lap after handing her the drink.

There's a twitch in Jimin's brow, it's subtle but you see it. His eyes lifting from the screen to find you. Those plump lips of his spreading into a soft smile at the sight of you. The scowl disappearing from his features and you can't help but wonder if he had missed you in the few hours that you were away.

But, you're instantly pushing the thought from your head – complete with an actual shake of the head. Can't think like that, not when Miju was so hopeful when it came to him. Not interested in being a shitty friend and the more time you spent around him, the shitter he got. So despite, being pulled in the room and the heart pattering feeling you got from the way he looked at you, you're passing him. Walking all the way to the sliding doors that lead to the balcony, prepared to just spend time out here until you were tired enough to go find Miju.

It's colder than you expect, your bare arms and legs taking a big hit. But it's bearable. You can see the moon perfectly from where you stand, full and bright. Illuminating the figures of the people just below with their tents. You can faintly hear their laughter, conversations mixed it sounds like constant chatter.

How fun it would be to share a tent with Miju without this guilt gnawing in your chest. No doubt, she'd make a fuss about having to sleep on the grass – completely disregarding the sleeping bag as a suitable barrier. Freak out about the loud noises that she would be so certain was a bear. She was always funny like that, prepared for impending doom but unequipped to do anything about it.

It would've been fun.

No matter how hard you tried, it was hard to act normal around her since that night. As if you knew you had wronged her and felt you didn't deserve to be in on her friendship after that betrayal. She acted the same around you, though, hardly noticing your shift... you weren't sure if that made things better or worse.

You're not sure how much time passes with you just standing out there, sipping your drink. Ignoring the chill that runs down your spine with every gust of wind. Concentration on the shining moon above as you let your mind wander. Not fighting it when you begin to wonder what it would be like if you had met Jimin first. You'll just blame it on the alcohol muddling your thoughts later.

Suddenly, your senses are being clouded with silky warm cinnamon. There's a bump against your shoulder, “Namjoon won't shut up about how tight your ass looks in those shorts,” Jimin grumbles. He had taken his robe off to drape over your shoulders. He doesn't even look real in the light of the moon, as if you had conjured him with your thoughts.

Skin glowing, despite how annoyed he looked. Lips looking as soft and plush as ever, even if he insisted on keeping them pursed in his angry little pout. His eyes sparkled a hint of fire mixed in his stare. Overwhelmed with the need to tease him, a smirk is playing on your lips.

“Oh yeah? Why don't you tell him to come do something about it, then.” Hands tugging the robe tighter around your body, you watch as his scowl deepens. “Don't upset me,” He grumbles, all but growling and you don't even bother to stop the laugh that falls from your lips.

Jimin looks away at you, squinted eyes glaring at the moon above. He's leaning against the railing close enough that you're shoulders touch, but he pays you no mind. “I'm not interested in Namjoon,” You speak, even though it's none of his business. Unsure why you share that piece of information considering you owed him zero explanation.

His gaze slowly shifts to you but you don't look at him, convinced that you don't care how he reacts to your words. Instead, you continue to watch the moon. The two of you stand there or a while, shoulder to shoulder, both staring but for different reasons... with different feelings.

His robe is warm around you, a welcome feeling because you were sure your thighs were about to turn blue from the cold. It smells like him too, cinnamon. It takes all of your willpower not to lean down and inhale the damn thing. God, you really needed to get a grip when it came to this guy.

“You like it?” His words catch you off guard, wide eyes finding him. Had he heard you? Well, of course not you weren't speaking out loud... right? Could he read your mind? Did he know that you were creepily trying to figure out ways to sneak sniffs of his robe without him realizing?

“Like what?” You ask carefully. His lips lift into a full teeth grin, his gaze shifting from you to the sky. “The moon.” Jimin leans into you as he points and you know he does it as an excuse to touch you. You don't mind it. “You've been staring at it for a while...”

Relaxing, you nod your head. A small smile spreading across your lips, head lifting to admire the shine. “I like to look at it sometimes, send my wishes up there and hopefully they'll come true,”

“What do you wish for?” He's asking as soon as you're finished your sentence, looking genuinely interested.

You shrug, teeth worrying your lower lip as he looks at you. Waiting. Interested. “I wish for everything... health, contentment... to not fail,” Cheeks darkening slightly at your words, you act like it doesn't affect you. Never told anyone that you sent hopeful wishes up to the night sky and counted on them. Words just seemed to flow so easily when you were with Jimin, though.

It's the way he looks at you. How he always looks at you as if he just discovered his very own moon. Prepared to jump through hoops, endure your constant rejection if it meant he'd soon enough be able to break through. Be granted a few moments of your pretty smile, hear that laugh... and maybe, have you look at him the same way. Not willing to share you with anyone else, had half the mind to whisk you away so he could keep you.

Not like you'd complain, belonging to Jimin and only him. Certain that there wasn't a single person that made you feel the way that he did. He must have the on switch to your heart, it only seemed to malfunction when he was around. When he smiled. Kissed you. Coated with sexual tension, you were sure your feelings were more than just that. They were real. He felt real.

“I know what I'd wish for,” Eyes dropping from the sky down to you. A bit closer now, but not crossing the line. Just doing enough that left you no choice but to make the next move, leaving the final decision up to you like he always did.

“What's that?” Prolonging the conversation and staying still. Forcing your urges to stay at bay, keeping your arms wrapped around your chest. If not, you know they'd be finding the warmth of his neck to pull him into you. To feel those lips you couldn't get enough of again, and again, and again.

The grin that spreads across his lips stills your pounding heart. Dimple poking out in its usual spot, corners of his eyes lifting just slightly. “I won't tell you,” His smile widens at the end of his words and you feel your lips curling up too. “If I did, then it wouldn't come true... I really want it to come true,”

Eyes rolling, you're taking two big steps away from him. “I told you my wishes,” You mumble. Jimin laughs, arm reaching out to tug on the fabric of his robe, pulling your body against his again. His arm wraps around your waist to hold you in place, the tips of his fingers gently brushing against your exposed belly.

“Relax. I'll tell you when it comes true,”

There must be some magnetic pull because your head is finding his shoulder easily. Finding comfort in having him so close. You feel his stare but refuse to return it. Just allow him to watch you watch the moon. Enjoying the comfortable silence that falls upon you two, the warmth that spreads throughout your body from the stroke of his fingers.

“You're not cold? You don't want to go in?” Jimin's asking as moments pass. You're shaking your head, despite the shiver that shakes your body seemingly on command. He laughs softly, easily pulling your body to stand in front of him. Arms secured around your waist in a back hug, aim to share some of his warmth with you.

You're leaning back into him, hands dropping down to hold onto his wrists. His chin rests on the top of your head, gaze following yours. “You really liked it that much?”

“I could stare at it all night,” You're admitting. His hands are moving underneath your grasp, just enough so he's able to take hold of your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I'd give it to you, so you could.” That. That has your heart doing cartwheels behind your rib cage. Butterflies flapping so hard that you're afraid they might burst out to kiss him.

Laughing it off, you urge yourself to relax. Burying the icky lovey dove-y feeling he seemed to carry around with him. “What you gonna do? Toss a rope up there and yank it down?” Tone teasing, in hopes, to shift the overly romantic moment in a different direction.

He doesn't take the hint, ignoring it completely. Pulling your body tighter against his, you can hear the smile in his voice. “If you asked me to, I'd try.”

This has you pulling away from him completely, overwhelmed with the need to be close to him – which results in you not wanting to be close at all. “Stop saying corny things to me,” You whine. That smile of his spreading as he reaches down for your hips, pulling your body toward him again. “Why?”

“You know why.” You can't believe you're actually pouting. Like a complete lower lip poked out, arms crossed pout. It feels so uncharacteristic, but natural at the same time. Jimin's eyes are rolling this time, hands pulling your chest against his before his arms are leaving your hips to wrap around your back.

“You don't have to fight it, you can just be when you're with me.” There's promise in his matter-of-fact tone and he's looking at you with those eyes again. And you believe him, oddly. Feel secure in his words, in his arms. Gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips then back up again. “Would you be upset if I kissed you?” His voice is hushed as if he was determined to keep this moment between just you two.

Soft lips press against yours the moment you're shaking your head. His signature groan falling from his lips as his hand reaches up to tangle in your hair. Different from the other times he's kissed you, this is much slower. Calculated in the way his tongue maps out the inside of your mouth as if he wants to savor the moment.

You kiss him back the same, palm of your hand easily finding the back of his neck to hold him still. Becoming completely uninterested in anything that wasn't his hands. His lips. Him. Jimin. All too soon, he's pulling back, leaving two quick pecks on your lips that has a giggle leaving your lips.

He takes a moment to admire it. Admire you. Wondering how he managed to get so lucky... and unlucky at the same time. “Come sleep in my room tonight.” You could guess how many girls had come here hoping to hear those exact words from his mouth. Knew one of them personally. And that has you pulling back, regret instantly crowding your heart.

“Are you stupid? We can't do that.” No matter how much you want to. The feeling of falling asleep in his arms, spending the night wrapped in his warmth, was quickly slipping from your memory.

“We can.” He's assuring you with a nod of his head. “I'll lock the door and it'll be just you and me. Then you can just leave before anyone wakes up.” Fingers reach out for yours, he's lifting your knuckles to his lips to press soft kisses against your knuckles. Softening you. “Who knows, maybe I'll make you squirt again.” Tantalizing teeth nibble gently at your digit. 

You're pulling your fingers back just in time to catch his smirk. With your dark cheeks, you can't deny that you weren't completely against the idea of repeating the night before. “You're thinking too hard about it.” He whines. “I just want to have you in my arms. Nothing else, honest.” He's reaching for your hand again, lacing your fingers slightly.

“Why do you want that?” Can't help the question from tumbling past your lips, no matter how his words managed to make you feel. Because at the end of the day Jimin was still just a guy... and even if he brought a thousand hammers, you still had walls.

There's a furrow in his brow, head tilting to the side as he looks down at you. The pad of his thumb smoothing over the back of your hand, as his smirk turns teasing. “You don't want it?”

Jimin's room is just how you remember it. Charmingly messy, which most people would just refer to as disorganized. Not enough time is granted to peak around your surroundings, take in the trail of discarded gym clothes that lead to the en-suite bathroom. The clutter of books carelessly left in the corner of the room. The impressive collection of shoes lined up in the corner, the only thing that seemed to have a proper place.

All of that is missed because the second Jimin is shutting the door, his body is against yours forcing backward steps until your back is flat against his sheets. Sheets that he had changed since the last time for... obvious reasons. Plush lips trail a line from your chin to the meeting of your jaw and neck, pulling soft moans from your lips.

Both of his hands are sliding underneath the fabric of your tank top, stopping at your rib cage. Jimin's lips feel so good against your skin, natural as if that's where they belonged. The thump in your chest doesn't stop, in fact, it speeds the longer you lay underneath him. 

Slowly, he's lifting his face from your neck so he's able to look down at you. Huffing out a chuckle, he's leaning down to press his lips to yours gently... pulling away before it can get too heated. “You look so dazed. Do you like me that much?” He's joking, can hear it in his voice... but you're not a big fan of the weight his words hold.

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you're wiggling out of his grasp. He watches as you tug his robe from your shoulders before crawling your way to the head of the bed. Making yourself at home in his king size. Tucked in his fluffy blankets and Jimin is not fair behind you. Kneeling to remove his shirt before he's sinking underneath the comforter, arms mindlessly finding your waist.

Back pressed against his chest, he takes a moment to breathe you in. Loving that despite you having removed his robe, you still smelt like him. Mixed with your usual honey aroma, he can't help but nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck.

“I like you that much,” He's confessing into the darkness of the room, lips pressed against the skin of your neck. “Maybe, more.” It's the sincerity in his tone, every ounce of teasing completely absent. He means what he says and doesn't expect you to say anything back. Just wanted to tell you so that you knew.

And because of that, you feel your body warm. The swell in your chest growing, cheeks darkening. How did you manage to get so lucky... and unlucky at the same time. Refusing to think about the downside, wanting so badly to just enjoy this moment with him, you're pushing all the negative thoughts to the back of your mind.

Instead, you're turning in his arms. Fingers knitting through the hair at the nape of his neck, you pull him down toward you, lips finding his. He's kissing you back immediately, pouring all his passion, want, need into the movement of his lips. Pushing your tongue past his lips, head tilting for a better angle – fingers secured on the waistband of his bottoms as you hold him to you.

The groans that he emits from the feeling of your teeth nibbling on his lower lip has a gush of arousal heating up your core. His warm hand finds your wrist below the sheets, gently guiding it until your palm is pressed against the stiff hump in his pants. Fingers flex around it, forcing his hips to jerk forward.

You grin, pulling back from his lips to trail a line of wet kisses down the side of his neck toward his collarbones. Jimin has hands on your ass, kneading and molding the flesh with his chin rested on your shoulder so he can watch his hands. You didn't fail to notice the way he had hiked up your shorts to reveal more of your cheeks to his greedy eyes. 

“You're so hard. What have you been thinking about, baby?” You recycle his words from the other night and from the chuckle that falls from his lips, he's noticed. “Wanna taste you...” He's admitting, his own words making his cock jump underneath your palm. 

Hand slipping underneath the waistband of his pants... his boxers, easily you wrap your hand around his thick length. He curses out loud, teeth cutting into his lip to further silence himself. “You were so good to me last time... don't you think it's your turn?” Slowly, you drag your hand down to his base.

Jimin's nodding his head quickly at your words, “Yes, fuck.” He's basically throbbing in your grasp and you wonder when was the last time he has gotten off. Allowing yourself a moment to play with the thought of it possibly being before that night with you.

You whimper as his cock jumps underneath your light touch. It's as if he's getting harder as the anticipation grows and you can't deny the way that turns you on. His breaths leave Jimin's mouth when your hand is sliding up toward the head, “Holy fucking shit,” He gasps, just as you're dipping your head down a glob of spit rolling off your tongue and landing directly on top.

The slide of your hand is much easier now with the added lubricant. Jimin's hips rocking along with the movement of your hand. His moans interrupting the suction of his lips on your neck. Warm breath panted against your skin while you speed up the strokes of your hand, adding a twist in your wrist to add to his pleasure.

“That feels so good, Yn.” A dribble of precum slides down the side of his shaft following his whiny voice. You're wet just from the sound of his voice, the weight in your palm. How he's desperately rocking into you as if he's actually buried inside of you. It takes everything in him not to flip you over and do just that. Fuck you like he's been imagining since he first met you.

But he holds back because you had been hesitant before. Didn't want to push you too much, happy to take what he could. Leaving hickeys on your skin, your hands on him, your pretty moans that mixed with his hand filled the room. Yeah, that would be enough for now.

Palm closing a bit around him, mimicking the tightness he wants. “Y-you're gonna make me cum...” A stutter in the movements of his hips matches his strained stuttered words. You want him to fall apart, reach the level of euphoria he had brought you to. Strokes speeding up, thumb teasing his tip whenever you can reach it.

His breath is picking up, a string of curses leaving his lips as his thighs tense up. Arms tight around your waist, holding your close as his teeth scrape against the skin of your neck. Thighs rubbing against each other to create some friction of your own, you keep going. Not pulling back until he's groaning out your name, spilling his seed into the palm of your hand.

Jimin is lifting his head from the crook of your neck just in time to see you bring your palm to your mouth, licking his thick cum from your fingers. Eyes hooded but he doesn't dare to take his eyes off of you, the sight alone enough to have him wanting to go again. Wiping damp hand on his sheets, your eyes find his again and Jimin swears he was just shot in the heart. Breath knocked out of him just from the way you're looking at him.

“You're so perfect,” He's mumbling, because that's honestly the only word he can think of when it comes to you. A soft smile spreads across his face, hand reaching for his shoulder to gently push him onto his back. He lets you move him, getting yourself comfortable with your leg hooked around his waist. 

His hand finds your ass, easily slipping underneath the fabric of your shorts. Holding him close to you, head on his chest you ignore the guilt eating away at your heart. Trying hard to focus on the good parts about being with him... which was everything. If only the circumstances were different.

 Imagining what it would be like if things were like this. If you had only met him first, you could like him freely without feeling yourself shrink each time you were reminded of the sad fact. Jimin feels your mood shift but doesn't say anything. Continues to hold you close, his hand gently trying to soothe you. And with the gentle way he's rubbing your bottom, and the warmth of him underneath you – you're drifting to sleep.

At some point through the night, your position changed. Jimin's bare chest pressed against your back, hand between your thighs to find warmth. Legs entwined to ensure neither of you runs away. He's awake before you, plump lips landing soft kisses against your shoulder.

“Gotta wake up, baby.” Voice harsh from sleep, hushed as if he didn't actually want to wake you. “Wake up, I started the coffee maker and made pancakes,” He tries again, teeth nibbling at your skin and you're stirring.

Head shifting to look back at him, confusion written on your face not sure if you heard him correctly. “You made pancakes?” You question in your sleepy morning voice. Jimin grins, shaking his head before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“I'm practicing for our domestic life,” Laughing with a roll of your eyes, you reach down to pull his hand from inside your shorts. You sit up to pull the blanket off of your body, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you stand. The sleeping guests downstairs suddenly become apparent to you, with the chatter coming from downstairs.

They were awake already? What time was it? Was Miju down there too? Rushing to stand in front of the mirror, you wipe and tug at yourself trying to get rid of any evidence of what happened here last night. Jimin had gotten up too, pulling his shirt and robe back onto his body. His hands dropping onto your hips.

“Thanks for last night,” He whispers, calming your frantic movements with his soft tone and the kiss he presses to the side of your face. “I'm sorry it makes you feel so shitty... you enjoy yourself, though, right? In the moment?” You don't remember the last time you were thanked for spending the night with someone, your presence treated as valuable. And you're sure you were never asked if you had enjoyed yourself.

“I did, yeah.” He smiles at your words, taking a backward step, allowing you to move from the mirror to find your shoes. “Me too,” He agrees with a smile and you notice the tint in his cheeks... the way he's no doubt replaying the moment in his mind.

You're giggling, as you stand with your shoes fastened. “Yeah, we know you enjoyed yourself.” He moves to close the space between you, lips finding your lips. “I need to go,” You're stopping him before he can slip any tongue, knowing all too well where he was heading with the way his fingers stroked the hem of your shorts.

“One more,” He holds his finger up between the toy of you, puppy dog pouting right in your face and it's so cute that you can't help but grant him one more kiss. One more turns into three which quickly turns into five and before you know it he's pulling you onto his lap as he lowers himself onto his bed.

Fingers buried in his hair, you use your grip to pull his head back – freeing your lips. You laugh at the way he chases your lips, “One more.” He mumbles and you're shaking your head, leaving a chaste kiss to his lips before you're standing from his lap.

“That was the last one,” You're back in the mirror, fixing appearance. So drunk on him that it slips your mind that you're supposed to be sneaking out of his room. He's a few steps behind you when you pull the door open, wide eyes finding Miju at the bottom of the stairs.

Her back is to you, deep in conversation with Joonie and Taehyung. They're making her laugh, body bowed furrow as her back shakes. They look so proud of themselves, little did they know she laughs like that all the time.

You're frozen in place, stuck. Lost on how you were going to get downstairs without her seeing you, she was right there! No doubt she'd ask why you were coming from upstairs when you should have met her at the tents last night.

Jimin is reaching for your wrist, ready to pull you back into the room when Miju is turning around. She sees you, confusion flashing over her features but she still smiles, saying something to the boys before she's turning to make her way up the stairs. Jimin is kind enough to put some distance between the two of you, hands shoved into the pocket of his sweats.

“Yn? How come you're in Minmin's room?” She doesn't look angry, just confused. Doesn't expect the worse of you, because you're her best friend and no way would you spend the night with her crush and try to sneak out the next morning undetected.

“Oh. I had to use the bathroom,” The lie rolls off of your tongue coated with a nervous laugh. “Have the cleanest one in the house,” Jimin is helping with a smile that has Miju's face morphing, a smile to match his lighting up her features.

“I'll use it next time, the one down there is so sticky,” She scrunches her nose up at the thought and he's laughing. Like actually laughing and you can't help but notice how easy this is for him. You feel like you're about to crack and he's all smiles and laughter.

You're moving from Jimin's side to stand beside Miju, reaching for her hand – you give it a slight tug. “Are you ready to go? I think I'm all social-ed out.” She pulls her gaze from Jimin to laugh at your words, nodding her head.

“Yeah, sure. See you later, Minmin!” She's waving at Jimin who nods his goodbye and you're pulling her along with you down the stairs and all the way out of the house. She calls quick goodbyes to Joonie and Taehyung as you pass them. Then falls into silence the entire walk to her house.

The silence is uncomfortable for you. Wishing that you could know what she was thinking. Wondering if she bought that half ass-ed lie back there or if she was waiting for the right moment to call you out for it. She didn't seem pissed, her usually smiling self as she admired the nature around her.

Maybe she didn't pick up on the swollen lips and fucked out eyes. Maybe it wasn't as obvious as you had convinced yourself it was. It wasn't like the two of you came out groping each other, plus you've used his bathroom before... so it made sense for you to go in his room and use it again, right?

Miju doesn't say anything until you're stopping in front of her door, ready to wave goodbye when she's stopping you. “I was wondering, where did you sleep last night?” She asks casually, keys dangling from the tips of her manicured fingers.

“Oh, yeah. On the couch. I ended up crashing,” You try to be as cool as Jimin with your lies, brushing off the question with a laugh. She's nodding her head, focus dropping to the keys in her hand. “That's weird, though, because I went to look for you... and the couch was empty.”

Heart sinking, urging yourself to control your facial expressions, not wanting to give anything away. Not ready to talk to her about this yet. Not even sure if this thing with Jimin was actually a thing. “The couch in the den. Did you check there?”

“Hm, I didn't.” Something flashes in her eyes, but it's so quick you can't really place it. “Did you see the girl Jimin was with then?” Miju is not looking at you anymore, putting all her focus on trying to pick out the right key to open the door. “He was with a girl?” You play dumb because that's exactly how you feel at the moment.

She's nodding, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “Yeah. On the balcony of the den. I thought it was you because of the jammies, but then he came and they started...” Miju shakes her head, stopping her words. “I guess you didn't see them, then?”

“I didn't,” You can feel the cracks in your heart, but can't keep the lies from falling from your lips. Knowing how hurt she'd be if she was to realize that it was actually you that she saw with Jimin. A huff of breath leaves her lips, eyes blinking as she lifts her head to look back at you. She looks the same way she does when she's about to cry and you want to reach out to console her, but you can't get yourself to move.

Miju doesn't let the tears slip, head shaking as she pushes a laugh through her lips. “He's a guy, right? No big deal. We're not even together. I just need to be bolder,” Her words oddly sound like you and you find yourself agreeing, nodding your head.

“Yeah. It'll be alright,” This time you're reaching for her, hand landing on your shoulder. She's shrugging you off, plastering a smile onto her face. “I'm gonna go in. I'll call you later.” She turns, easily finding the proper key to unlock the door.

You nod despite her having slipped past without sparing you another glance. With a heavy heart, you're leaving her porch. Guilt eating away at you with each step you took. And although it should be easy, you can't seem to land on the right thing to do. 

Know that your first instinct should be to stop, to cut all times with Jimin so you can properly call yourself a friend to Miju again... but the thought of never talking to Jimin again, never get to feel his lips, be wrapped up in his arms... makes you sick to your stomach.

There was no way you could have both, though. You needed to make a choice.

– girl code rule #1: never, ever, under any circumstances fall for your best friend’s crush. but what happens when your best friend’s crush checks all the boxes of your ideal guy… and to make matters worse… he’s crazy about you too.

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. to be added to the taglist, send me an ask !! feedback is highly !! appreciated, it’s the motivation i need to keep the fic going nd fun for you guys!!<33

[binunus]

injury | cha eunwoo

a/n ~im a simp for eunwoo, you’re a simp for eunwoo, let’s be simps for eunwoo~

LMFAO anyway this is the first week w/o true beauty and yes as much as suho’s character was a bit toxic, he was end game and that’s it !! also eunwoo bb worked so hard :’) no one can deny eunwoo’s superb acting skills alright !! and if they do they boutta catch these hands. so here’s a cute little something of basketball player!eunwoo bc im in love with him

pls watch handsome tigers or this tik tok if you wanna indulge in basketball player!eunwoo bc everyone should at least once in their life

→ pairing: basketball player!eunwoo x athletic trainer!reader

→ genre: fluff, lil angst

→ word count: 5.1k ________________________________________________

Your POV

One thing you didn’t expect when you applied to be a student athletic trainer for the university basketball team was to end up dating one of their star players, but here you were: holding hands with Cha Eunwoo–the starting shooting guard–as you two walked into the basketball court. 

He gave you a smile and a kiss to the cheek before going off to join his teammates in stretching. You let out a content sigh, watching as he happily greeted the other basketball players, and then went over to the other student trainers. 

Usually, you wouldn’t have much to do since the boys were just practicing, but there was someone new joining today, so you and the other trainers had to give her a little rundown on what she signed up for. 

“-mostly we just tape up and ice the guys if they have an injury or a muscle strain, but yeah that should be about it. Simple, right?”

The new girl nodded, eyes trained on the court as the team just started their warmups. “Who’s that? Number 97 is hot–”

“And dating y/n.” One of the male trainers, and yours and Eunwoo’s close friend, Rocky said, narrowing his eyes at the new girl as he rested his elbow on your shoulder. “So don’t even think of any ideas to–”

“Rocky,” You scolded hitting his stomach, “Don’t be rude.”

The girl gave you a once over, an uncomfortable smile on your face, as her eyes met yours. “Ah...well, you must have an amazing personality, y/n!”

You were taken aback, did she just call you ugly? You forced a laugh, trying your best not to quip back at her. Rocky, though, had no restraints, “Clearly a better one than yours.”

Before the new girl could respond, the head trainer called her over, a huge sigh of relief coming from you. Rocky clicked his tongue as he stared at her back, “She’s not going to last long with us. I don’t get why you’re so timid when others are clearly insulting you, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes at him. When it came to your friends, it was definitely Rocky and Myungjun who were not afraid to be bold about what they were thinking. “Eunwoo and I have been dating for more than a year now, you don’t think I’m used to people always saying that my boyfriend is out of my league? I just try to ignore it now Rocky c’mon, I know how Eunwoo feels about me and that’s enough.” 

“Damn hyung’s handsome face.” The younger male shook his head. You chuckled, the two of you taking a seat on the bench and conversing as the basketball practice went on. During water breaks, Eunwoo would come over to where you and Rocky were sitting, chatting it up with you two in brief increments before resuming practice. He would always pucker his lips up for a peck before leaving, which you would definitely grant and Rocky would pretend to be disgusted.

By the end of their practice, you managed to successfully avoid the new girl, waiting outside the locker room like you always do after bidding Rocky goodbye. Eunwoo smiled once he saw you, immediately draping his arm around your shoulders as he kissed your temple in greeting. “Baby, I’m hungry.”

“Mmm, you want to eat out or order in?” You asked looking up at him.

“Order in, I’m tired.” He said, the two of you already making your way to his car.

--

As soon as you two arrived back at Eunwoo’s apartment, he immediately plopped down on the couch. You chuckled, lightly smacking his butt, “Baby, go take a shower first, you’re sweaty.”

“Wanna take one with me?” He asked blinking his big beautiful eyes at you. You grinned, the offer was tempting, but you already took a shower earlier today and you wanted to order this food as soon as possible. Eunwoo pouted as you shook your head in rejection, getting up to go the bathroom looking like a kicked puppy. 

You turned on the television to whatever variety show was on at the moment, barely paying attention as you were looking through the food delivery app on your phone. You turned your head as Bin walked out of his bedroom, no doubt having just woken up from a nap.

“Oh? You guys are back.” He said sleepily, waving to you.

“Binnie, we’re ordering for dinner, do you want something?” You asked offering him your phone, a laugh leaving you at the boost of energy he received from the word ‘dinner’

“You know a way to man’s heart, y/n.” Bin said jokingly as he started looking through the menu. “By the way, Rocky texted me about that new trainer–rude ass bitch.”

“God you guys spread gossip faster than girls.” You said amused, “I told him earlier, I’m used to people saying stuff like that. It’s whatever.”

“I guess, but you know how sad Eunwoo will be if he finds out this is still going on?” Bin said handing you your phone back. “We’ve been telling you this since the beginning, don’t let other people’s opinions get to you. You’re attractive, y/n! And to Eunwoo, you’re the most beautiful person in the world.”

You smiled, touched by his words of comfort, “Thanks Binnie, ah where would me and Eunwoo be without all of your guys’ support?”

“Nowhere because he wouldn’t have had the balls to confess to you if it wasn’t for us.” He scoffed heading to the bathroom.

“Change your mind, baby?”

“You better stay in the shower! I don’t wanna see your dick while I’m peeing.”

You laughed at their interaction, your attention shifting to the television as you patiently waited for your food and company. Within 30 minutes, the three of you were happily stuffing yourselves full with the takeout, talking up a storm while watching tv. You leaned back against the couch when you felt your stomach capacity maxed out, hands perched on your belly as you groaned, “I can’t eat anymore.”

They looked at you in amusement, Bin laughing while Eunwoo rested his hand on your knee, a fond smile on his face as he told you he’ll finish up your leftovers. The two boys then got engrossed in their own conversation of sorts, you listening quietly to the side as the food coma started to kick in. Somewhere in the midst of their conversation, you settled behind Eunwoo, legs draped next to his body as you snaked your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back. He hummed, still chewing on his food as he took one of your hands and squeezed it. 

You started to zone out, their dialogue beginning to sound like a bunch of nonsensical noise. Bin looked over to where you were laying, “I think y/n’s about to knock out.” 

Your boyfriend turned his body to get a glimpse of you, grinning as you whined from the shift in movement. He changed your positions so that you were leaning next to his side, his arm around your waist as you rested your head on his shoulder. “Food coma?”

You nodded, snuggling into his side to get comfortable. Bin watched the two of you with a smile, scooping up the last of his food before clapping his hands, “Well! you guys being all cuddly is making me miss my bub...so see you lovebirds tomorrow!”

You snort, eyes still closed as you respond to him, “Aren’t they hanging out with Eunbi right now? I saw it earlier on their Instagram story.”

He shrugs, gathering up the trash, “I’m going to crash their hangout because I want to cuddle too. Have fun you two, good night sweet dreams, use protection...or not, be a little spicy!”

Eunwoo rolls his eyes as he picks up a throw pillow and chucks it at his roommate, “Alright bye Binnie.”

It takes all but five minutes before Bin leaves the apartment. The moment you two were alone, Eunwoo immediately tightened his hold, practically pulling you onto his lap as he laid you both down on the couch, spooning you from behind. You let out a smile, hands on top of his as he kissed your shoulder, “You ran a lot today baby, are your legs okay?”

He cutely nods his head, his chin lightly digging into your skin, “My calves are a bit tight, but I’ll probably just roll them out at the gym tomorrow.”

You hummed, rubbing his arm, “Do you want me to massage your legs?”

“It’s okay baby, we’re both tired. I’ll just do it tomorrow.” He said, not wanting to move from the couch any time soon. You chuckled, turning around so that you faced him, your eyes finally blinking open, “If you wait until tomorrow, your calves are gonna be stiff and sore, you might get a muscle cramp. C’mon baby.”

He kissed your nose in response, “You were literally about to knock out from a food coma five minutes ago.”

“The feeling comes and goes,” You grinned, moving to stand up from the couch. Eunwoo pouted at your absence, but followed your movement anyway, taking your hand as you led him to his bedroom. He obediently laid face down on his bed, waiting as you searched his room for the roller stick. “Can we cuddle after?”

“Yes,” You laughed, giving him a kiss before you sat down next to his legs. “Baby, this is your perk for dating an athletic trainer. I need to make sure you’re in tip top shape.”

“But rolling calves always hurt.” Eunwoo whined, already wincing as you started to apply pressure under the back of his knee. You tried to be gentle at first before really going in with stretching his calf muscles, “that’s because your calves are the tensest muscles in the body, they’re put under a lot of strain and pressure from walking and running so it hurts when you try to relax them.”

“I love when you talk medical to me,” He sighs dreamily. You roll your eyes, pressing down hard on the meat of his calves. You felt bad when Eunwoo started letting out complaints of pain, trying to talk him through it and distract him from the pressure on his legs. “Ow ow baby! It hurts!”

“I know I know, almost done baby, I promise.” You said gently, rolling the stick thoroughly over both calves a couple more times, trying to get rid of all the deep knots that accumulated in his muscles. After deciding that he’s suffered through enough with the stick, you put it to the side and began kneading the heels of your palms through his skin, stimulating his muscles gently after the harsh rolling session. Your hands slowly moved north until they landed on his shoulders, briefly massaging the knots out in his neck as well. You ended up laying next to him, cooing cutely as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “all done.”

Your boyfriend smiled, pulling you into his chest as he kissed your forehead, “thank you baby.”

“You better not ask any of the other trainers to do this for you,” You pouted, a little bubble of jealousy coming up from the earlier situation at the gym. “Except Rocky, maybe.”

Eunwoo scoffed, running his hands through your hair as he met your eyes, “I would much rather have you give me a massage than Rocky. And hey, you better not offer this treatment to the other guys too or I’ll get jealous. You’re my trainer.” 

“Deal.” You grinned hugging him tightly, all feelings of jealousy quenched.

--

Game days always had a specific schedule to be followed. In the morning, you two were free to do whatever you pleased, but it always ended up with the two of you procrastinating in bed until 11 am. Eunwoo always ate a high-protein high-calorie meal whenever he had games and today’s lunch was no different. After eating, the two of you began to get ready, which included showering and getting dressed.

Today you wore a simple set of jeans a black crop top, finishing your look with the university sports quarter zip, which you were required to wear for every game. After tying your hair up, you turned to your boyfriend who was just starting to dress himself. You took a seat on his bed, marveling at how attractive he looked as he slipped on his jersey and shorts. “I’ll never get over seeing you in your uniform, baby.”

He grinned, placing his arms on either side of your body as he hovered over you, leaning down for a kiss. You expected it to be short and sweet, but Eunwoo had different ideas, lips still working against yours as your back gave in, laying down on the bed. You whined as one of his hands took place on your waist, rubbing at the exposed skin, “Mm, baby, we have to leave soon.”

“I know,” he said moving his lips down your jaw, “I just wanted to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me all you want after your game.” You lightly chuckled, wrapping your arms around his torso in a hug. He nodded, face buried in your neck as he dug his hands under your body, hugging you tightly. You hummed, caressing his hair soothingly, “Are you nervous?”

“A little, I’m always nervous before a game, baby.” Eunwoo said pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “You’ll cheer me on, right?”

“Always,” You said patting his back, “C’mon, we should start heading out soon.”

He nodded, reluctantly getting off of you and pulling your body up with him. You offered your boyfriend a cheerful smile, reaching up to fix the bangs out of his eyes before cupping his cheeks, shaking his face in between your hands, “You’re going to do amazing today baby, as always.”

Eunwoo smiled at your action, pecking your lips again before the two of you did a last-minute search around his room for your belongings. After getting all that you needed, the two of you bid Bin goodbye, telling the swimmer that you’ll see him at the court later. You took your place in the driver’s seat, wanting Eunwoo to just relax for the short drive to the gymnasium. You dropped him off at the entrance first before going to find parking, having Eunwoo arrive early was more important than your arrival anyway. 

As soon as you walked into the court, the players were already doing their stretches, your boyfriend in the midst of them all. You glanced at him briefly before greeting the other trainers, the group of you having a quick pre-game discussion of roles before being dismissed to do your own things. 

You actively try to avoid the new girl as the time draws closer to the start of the game, not wanting your energy to get dampered. By now, the other team has already arrived and the stands were slowly starting to fill up. You were seated calmly behind the bench, trying to pass the time on your phone, before your boyfriend took the space next to you, hand automatically going on top of your knee. “You ready?”

“As much as I can be,” He grinned rubbing your kneecap, “Wanna come with me to fill up my water bottle?”

You nod, you weren’t doing anything anyway. The male immediately drapes his arm over your shoulders as the two of you walk to the water station, the two of you already getting excited about your dinner plans after the game. The rest of your friends would be joining you, no doubt, as you already spotted them near the front of the student seating. 

You were in such a good mood, anticipating the start of what was going to be a good game. Your university was going against their rivals, so expectations for both teams were high. You and Eunwoo were leisurely walking back to the court, he still had a couple more minutes before he needed to join his team. 

“Hey, you’re Eunwoo, right? I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Hana, the new student trainer. You’re really good at playing!” The girl said walking up to the two of you. You immediately felt your body stiffen at her appearance, trying not to let it show to your boyfriend. He gives the new girl a polite smile, “Ah thank you.”

“If you need anything, I’ll be more than happy to help you.” She said batting her eyelashes sweetly at him. You pursed your lips tightly, jealousy easily building up inside of you. Eunwoo only laughed awkwardly, “I appreciate it, but y/n’s got everything handled when it comes to me, right baby?”

You nod, trying your hardest not to punch Hana in the face at her blatant attempt to flirt with your boyfriend right in front of you. Eunwoo noticed your discomfort immediately, removing his hand from where it was interlocked with yours before slipping it around your waist, squeezing the skin gently. “Well, it was nice meeting you Hana, but I should go back to the team...I’ll look at you when I need good luck, baby, hm?”

You manage to crack a smile, a little laugh leaving you when he puckered his lips out for a kiss. You step on your tiptoes, granting his wish quickly, before pushing him out towards the court. You turn towards Hana and give her a forced smile before searching for Rocky. 

You weren’t surprised to find him in the bleachers, sitting and chatting amongst your group of friends. You go and join them with a light feeling in your chest, greeting the other four of them with hugs.

“How are you doing y/n? You excited?” Jinjin asked as you take a seat next to him.

“Yeah! I mean the guys have a really good chance of winning this one, it’s gonna be a good game.” You smiled clasping your hands together. Rocky only scoffed as he pointed at you, “Bitch, I saw Hana approaching you and Eunwoo hyung, spill.”

You throw the younger male a joking glare, “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

Bin immediately cringed at her name, hand palming his forehead, “Oh God, what did she do?”

You shrugged passively, “She just introduced herself to him and said that if he needed anything, she’ll gladly help him or whatever.”

The boys groaned in response, Sanha reaching over Jinjin to tap your leg, “And? What did hyung say?”

“He let her down gently and said that he goes to me if he needs anything–”

“As he should!” Myungjun said indignantly, crossing his arms in annoyance. Jinjin only nodded, “Good boy.”

“If she even tries to homewreck y/n, just say the word and I’ll scream at her!” Myungjun said in all seriousness. You laugh at his claim, “thanks guys, but I think Eunwoo made it pretty obvious to her so it’s fine.”

The youngest sighed giving you a pout, “You’re too nice, y/n.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Rocky said agreeing with Sanha, “If I was you and someone was flirting with my partner, I’d clock them right in the face.”

“Hey, I wanted to–”

“You should have,” Bin sighed, “What a shame, maybe next time.”

“I usually don’t advocate for violence, but I’d turn a blind eye for this, y/n.” Jinjin agreed. You rolled your eyes at them, “You know, as much as I love to sit here and get lectured, Rocky and I have to go down to the trainer section.”

“We’ll see you guys later!” Rocky said as the two of you stand to go to the bench, taking your seats with the other trainers–and as far away from Hana as you could. 

The game was already intense from the tip-off, both sides in a tight match to get a starting lead. The cheers from the stands were just as heightened, giving energy to both sides during baskets or free throws. Their plays started to get rougher from the beginning of the second half, more and more fouls getting called on both teams. 

You and the trainers were busy as well, assessing each player during substitutions and icing whenever they came back to the bench. By the third quarter, your team established a good six-point lead, the energy of your section high from Eunwoo’s back-to-back 3 pointers. 

You could distinctly hear Myungjun’s scream as he shouted Eunwoo’s name, a laugh coming from the bench at his volume. You hid your face in Rocky’s back, second hand embarrassment coming from the two of you at your friends’ loud cheering tactics.

You even spotted Eunwoo letting out a smile as both sides prepared for a free throw, your boyfriend giving a thumbs up to the guys in acknowledgement. His gaze then shifted onto you, your cheeks flushing as he shot you a heart-fluttering wink, a smile gluing itself onto your face.

You watched with pride as his concentration zeroed back in on the game, his team playing impeccable defense as they raced to your side of the court. After a couple back and forth relays, your team was on offense, trying to calm down the tensions as they strategized their next play.

It all happened so fast. The opponents stole the ball from your point guard, commencing a fast break. Eunwoo sped across court, the defense of your team depending on him and another player. 

“Eunwoo–screen!”

He followed the instructions of his teammate well, placing his body in front of the opponent as he tried to defend your team’s basket. Unfortunately, the momentum of the other player was too much, both players roughly colliding and falling on the court. 

You gasped in horror, immediately standing up from your seat as the referee blew the whistle to stop the play. Your teeth dug into your lower lip in worry as Eunwoo remained on the floor, clutching his waist in pain as some players and the referees surrounded him. The head trainer jogged onto the court, kneeling in front of Eunwoo to ask if he was okay. 

The gymnasium was quiet, looking on to the scene that was unfolding in the center of the floor. Slowly, the trainer helped Eunwoo stand up, your boyfriend leaning his weight on the male as he limped off to the side, the coach substituting in the other shooting guard in place of Eunwoo. Both sides started clapping in respect, as they always do when someone gets injured during a play. 

The head trainer looked to the group of you, “someone help me with Eunwoo.”

Before you could even respond, Hana beat you to the chase raising her hand, “I can help.”

“y/n,” Eunwoo said, eyes only on you. The head trainer looks between you and Hana, sighing, “Decide amongst yourselves, and fast.”

“It’ll give me more experience-”

“No, I want y/n.” Eunwoo said seriously, not even giving her a chance. The head trainer ushers you over, your feet finally taking a step with the help of Rocky pushing you forward. You accidentally shove Hana out of your way as you approach Eunwoo and the trainer, taking some of your boyfriend’s weight as the three of you walk to the locker room.

Once in the locker room, the head trainer immediately started assessing Eunwoo’s waist, trying to determine whether he needed to be sent to the hospital for a scan. Quickly and quietly, you follow the trainer’s lead, offering your assistance when he needed it. All the while, you hold Eunwoo’s hand as your boyfriend was trying not to think of the pain in his lower back.

“Do you think you can walk, Eunwoo?”

“I don’t know, there’s a sharp pain in my waist if I try to turn my body.” Eunwoo said attempting to rotate his upper half.

“No no no, don’t move. Let’s get you to the hospital to make sure there isn’t anything broken.” He sighed taking out his phone to call the medical team, “y/n, I’m sure you’ll be accompanying your boyfriend. Text me Eunwoo’s updates, okay?”

You nodded, briefly leaving Eunwoo’s side to gather both his and your things. Within the next five minutes, a group of EMTs entered the locker room, lifting Eunwoo onto a stretcher and rolling him to an ambulance, you following closely behind. 

You didn’t say much on the way too the hospital, your mind too preoccupied with worry and thinking about the worst-possible scenario for your boyfriend. Even when you arrived at the hospital, Eunwoo was immediately whisked away to get some scans and X-rays done, you being escorted to the waiting room in the meantime. It seemed like forever until a nurse approached you, leading you to the room where Eunwoo was being held. 

You let out a sigh upon seeing him, almost being moved to tears as he offered you a smile, “You’re smiling? Cha Eunwoo, I oughta–”

“Baby, I’m okay.” He chuckled lightly, hand outstretched to meet yours. You frowned, putting both of your bags down to the side as you took a seat by his bedside, “Are you okay? What did the doctor say? I need to update the trainer and your coach too.”

“Nothing’s broken,” He said first, attempting to ease some of your anxiety. “The doctor said I had a nasty fall that bruised my coccyx so there’s a lot of inflammation to the area. They gave me some pain medication so I don’t really feel anything right now, but I should be discharged tomorrow. And then he gave me a referral to a chiropractor who I’ll see in about two days. But baby, I’m okay, promise.”

“You can’t play though,” You said softly, hands fiddling with his fingers, “I feel like I’m more upset than you.”

“I played hard today so I don’t regret anything.” He said simply, “it sucks that I couldn’t finish the game, but injuries are a part of being an athlete, you know that baby. Besides, from what the doctor said, I shouldn’t be out for too long, maybe just a game or two. I told him I’m in especially good hands because you’re gonna take care of me.”

You said nothing, still not fully believing that he’s taking this situation so well. “Baby...give me a smile, hm? I’ll feel much better if I see you smiling.”

Mustering up the brightest smile that you could, you finally looked up at his face. His features only softened, knowing that you were trying your best to stay strong for him, “Are you still worried?”

“Baby, you’re in the hospital.” You said as if stating the obvious, “How could I not be worried?” 

“You’re so cute being all worried about me,” He teased squeezing your hand. You scoffed, finally easing up a little at his flirting. “You laughed! I heard you laugh just now!”

“You’re annoying,” You said as you took out your phone to give the head trainer updates on Eunwoo’s condition. After you pressed send, you immediately received a call from Sanha, “Hello?”

“Is Eunwoo hyung okay?!” “Is he dying?!” “Eunwoo no he’s too young to die!”

You flinched at their loud volume, turning your phone on speaker so that you and Eunwoo could both respond to their chatter. “Guys, he’s not dying.”

“I’m okay,” He laughed taking your phone. “Hold on, did we win?”

“Are you fucking serious? That’s what you wanna know?!” Myungjun scolded into the phone. You chuckled, the guys talking over each other again as they announced they were on the way to the hospital. “They never said if we won or not.”

“I guess you’ll find out when they arrive.” You said, patting his cheek as you stood, removing your sweater. “Do you want some water, baby? I could go get some.”

He shook his head, puckering up his lips for something else. “Please? I’m injured.”

“You’re going to use this to your advantage, aren’t you?” You asked leaning down to grant him a quick kiss. “Maybe.”

After handing Eunwoo his phone, you went to the bathroom for a little bit before coming back and taking a seat on the hospital bed that he so highly encouraged. “If we get scolded by the nurse, I’m blaming it on you.”

“It’s not like you’re laying in bed with me, baby. We’ll be fine.” He said putting his hand on your thigh. He rubbed your cloth of your jeans gently, thinking to himself as you responded to messages on your phone. “Baby, you know I love you, right?”

You made a sound of confusion, looking up from your phone and meeting his eyes, “Hm? Of course I do. I love you too. Why, all of a sudden?”

“Just, when Hana was talking to us earlier and when she volunteered to try and help, I could see that you were uncomfortable.” Eunwoo said gently, “It annoyed me too, to be honest. Like what else did I need to do to show that I’m dating you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You said stroking his hair, “I’m used to people thinking that they can steal you away just because they’re prettier than me or more handsome than me or whatever. It doesn’t bother me that much anymore, baby––and it shouldn’t bother you too.”

“That’s so fucked up, y/n, how can that not bother me?” He frowned. “You are the most attractive person in my eyes, baby. If anyone pulls this shit again, I swear I won’t let it slide.”

“I know,” You said quietly, kissing his cheek. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Eunwoo said, “I don’t want you to ever forget that y/n, you’re mine and no one can do anything to change that.”

“Mmm, I’m lucky that you and the guys always defend me, aren’t I?” You lightly smiled, “God, you have no idea how many times Rocky cursed Hana out in the past week.”

“As he should,” Eunwoo nodded kissing the back of your hand, “see, this is why they’re my friends.”

“Speaking of our friends.” You said looking at the door, “I can hear them coming.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, both of your attentions at the door, which shortly was opened by five boisterous guys. The sound in the hospital room suddenly increasing tenfold at their appearance, all five of them crowding and fussing around the bed. You giggled, sharing a look with Eunwoo as the guys started talking all at once. He grinned, listening until the end of their rambles. Although he was injured, Eunwoo noticed that he couldn’t be feeling any happier. He had no doubt that he would have a speedy recovery, especially if you and his best friends were right by his side. _______________________________________

2-12-21

[shhhhyoursister]

enemies to lovers/band!au

okay yeah heres the final one, the big boy, the one im probably proudest of, i really really hope you guys like it!!

Matteo was lucky that the conductor liked him, because showing up 10 minutes late to the first rehearsal of the year was bad, even for him. Matteo wasn’t known to be the most responsible member of the band, and usually the only thing he could be counted on to do right every rehearsal was show up, and show up on time. He adjusted his grip on his baritone case as he sped down the hall of the music department, cursing as he checked the time on his phone again, and when he got to the door of the theater they rehearsed in, he cracked it open as quietly as he could.

“Ah, Matteo!” the conductor yelled from the stage, and Matteo flinched before stepping fully into the room, “You decided to show up! I was worried you quit after playing that really loud wrong note at the concert last semester.”

“Which one?” Matteo joked back, knowing that if it was any other professor he would have just apologized and rushed to put his instrument together. He was on a first name basis with Rick, who was probably the most laid back member of the music faculty. Some of the players on stage laughed at the exchange, and Matteo smiled as he popped his case open.

“Just hurry up, we do actually need a full band to rehearse,” Rick said, turning back to his stand with a chuckle, “and poor David looks like he’s going to explode if we don’t start soon.”

Matteo rolled his eyes. As if that would make him set his baritone up faster. He ignored the second wave of laughter that followed the conductor’s comment and grabbed the folder with his music, and made his way onto the stage. He took his seat next to the other baritones, in the third chair, and tried to ignore the glare he could feel coming from the clarinet section.

Matteo was a little upset that he had missed his favorite part of each rehearsal; before Rick got there, when people were still whispering to their stand partners, some quietly tuning their instruments or practicing difficult measures, some tapping their feet and counting out the beats. It felt more alive than when everyone was coming together to play one piece, and while Matteo loved the sound of a full band playing beautiful music, he really needed that calm before the storm. It reminded him that the music that he listened to came from people like him, who had to practice and tune and count and focus to produce the notes and phrases that seemed to flow so naturally.

He risked a glance over at David when Rick asked him to play a note so he could tune the band to it, and, like always, felt a little bit of a shiver run through him when he watched David take a deep breath before playing out a long, perfectly in-tune note. He knew it wasn’t only because of the sound of the clarinet, which Matteo secretly thought was the nicest sounding of all the wind instruments. Although David couldn’t stand him, and Matteo didn’t have too many kind feelings towards him either, it was hard to deny that first of all, David was an amazing musician, and second of all, much less importantly, he was really hot.

Matteo didn’t feel bad for thinking it. Every person in the band who was into men was into David. Matteo would hear girls whispering about him while they were setting up their flutes and oboes, and there was the one guy in the saxophone section who had been trying to get his number for a year. It was old news, but Matteo couldn’t help himself from staring at David when he had long measures of rests, and had to admit that David was the cause of his distraction during some rehearsals.

Rick finished tuning the band, and had them flip to the piece that Matteo was the least confident in. He looked up and took a breath with the whole band when the conductor brought his arms up, and dropped his eyes back to the notes a split second before the downbeat.

Inevitably, Matteo got to a part in the song where he had four measures of rest, and he leaned back in his chair a bit and stretched his neck out. He was counting on his fingers and tapping his foot to the tempo and managed to come back in at the right time, only for Rick to cut them off as he flipped aggressively through the papers on his stand.

“Where is the second page? Why do I only have half of the score here?” He asked angrily, and then huffed and said, “Okay, everyone take out the next piece. David, take over for me.”

Matteo rolled his eyes as Rick walked off the stage, and David took his place in front of the band. David always got the most cocky, smug look whenever he was asked to conduct, and some people rolled their eyes because they knew David was harsher, faster, and much less forgiving than Rick was.

“Okay guys, remember we tried to play this last semester, but some people couldn’t keep up,” his eyes flicked to Matteo, who just shrugged, and then smiled as the frown on David’s face deepened and he continued, “as long as everyone watches me, we’ll be able to get through it. Let’s start at the beginning.”

That won’t be too hard, Matteo thought to himself, and smiled before bringing his lips to the mouthpiece.

They got through the first half of the song with no issues, David going slower than usual to let people warm up to playing it again. Matteo knew that the only reason he hadn’t messed up yet was because his eyes were glued to his sheet music, but he saw that the tempo was changing in a few measures so he would have to look up. Once he did, he caught sight of the serious expression on David’s face, his eyes scanning over the band and darting down to the score in front of him, his arms waving and emphasizing different beats in a fluid and practiced way, keeping the tempo while cuing the other instruments to come in.

“Stop, stop! You were supposed to come in there, baritones, what happened? Are we playing too slow for you?”

Matteo (and everyone else) knew that when David was yelling at the baritones, he was really yelling at Matteo. His animosity was known amongst the other students in the band, so they weren’t surprised to hear a critique aimed at that section of the low brass. That was confirmed when Matteo looked up to see David glaring directly at him, his hand that wasn’t holding the baton clenched tightly around the stand.

They got through the rest of the song with no incidents, Matteo purposefully playing quieter to avoid making any loud mistakes. Rick came back just as David was berating them for speeding up at the end, and he clapped him on the shoulder before waving the missing pages of his score in the air.

“Thank you, David, for re-traumatizing your bandmates. Let’s go back to the first piece, and I promise I won’t yell as much as he did.”

The band laughed and David chuckled (at least he’s self aware, Matteo thought to himself) as he took his seat, with one final glance in Matteo’s direction. They could both see each other from where they were sitting, David being at the end of the second row and Matteo diagonal across from him in the back. He watched as David settled back into his seat and picked his clarinet up, his tongue flicking out to wet the reed, and when David’s eyes shifted back over to him he blushed and looked down at the floor. He scowled, angry that he got caught staring.

***

He struggled through the first week, playing confidently when he could and quieting down whenever he got lost until he could figure out where they were again. Sometimes he found himself so confused he would whisper out of the corner of his mouth, “Where are we?” to his stand partner, and she would roll her eyes before pointing out the correct measure.

The next week of rehearsals, Matteo started out on a much better foot. He was running early as opposed to late, and he hummed to himself as he strolled calmly down the hall leading to the theater. There was one measure of their newest song that he just couldn’t get right, and he flipped open his folder as he walked, knowing that the page with that measure would be at the front. He stopped paying attention to where he was walking, tapping out the beat of the notes on his hip, and just as he turned the corner into the room he crashed into someone leaving, and heard an annoyed, “Are you serious?”

He tensed when he recognized David’s voice, and looked up to see the exact glare he was expecting aimed directly at him. He almost missed the stack of papers that David had dropped, and only noticed when one sheet landed perfectly on top of his open folder.

“Sorry,” Matteo muttered, not knowing what else to say, “let me help.”

“No, I’ll do it,” David snapped back, the glare on his face darkening a little as he snatched the paper on top of Matteo’s folder and said, “I had them organized by section, and by part. You’d just fuck it up. Go set up.”

Matteo took a deep breath through his nose, tired of being torn down every single time David spoke to him, and he took another breath before glaring back and saying, “I wouldn’t fuck it up. I know how sheet music works.”

“Yeah, but if Rick wanted you doing any of this I’m sure he would have asked,” David scoffed, kneeling down so he could gather the papers together, “but he didn’t.”

Matteo bit his lip as felt something angry building in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t professional or smart of him to do but he couldn’t help but bite back, “Look, we all know that you’re just using us to set yourself up for the future, and that’s fine, but it doesn’t give you the excuse to be a fucking asshole all the time.”

He stormed off before he could see David’s reaction, and set his baritone up with trembling fingers. He was already in his seat and tuned up by the time David stalked into the theater with all of the papers, and Matteo watched with a smug grin as David quietly apologized to Rick for being late before handing off the sheet music and taking his seat. He grabbed his clarinet, his fingers pressing down on the keys harder than was probably good for them, and shot Matteo one final, piercing glare before turning to his music. Matteo smiled to himself as the conductor got everyone’s attention.

***

Things got a little more tense after that.

Getting even more on the bad side of the most talented, and most respected (and most feared) musician in the band was not Matteo’s best idea, but he had no idea how to fix it, and didn’t even know if he cared enough to.

Matteo didn’t know exactly what he was going to do once he graduated, but assumed that he’d figure something out. Pit bands were always looking for fresh talent, so he assumed that he would join one of those and get some menial job on the side while he waited to see where his life would lead. He knew that David, on the other hand, had a plan, and it seemed like their interaction in the hallway led David to believe that Matteo was the one thing standing in his way.

Another week of rehearsals went by, Matteo trying his best not to mess up, and failing almost every session. He knew that his conductor was starting to get a little frustrated, and he didn’t know how to explain that his new bout of issues weren’t coming from a lack of understanding the music; it was just difficult to play when you could feel someone openly glaring at you anytime the first clarinets had rests in the music. He and David hadn’t spoken or interacted at all since the incident in the hallway. They had never really spoken before that, so it wasn’t too unusual, but that amount of glaring was new.

And after a day or two, Matteo started glaring back. He would only do it when David wasn’t looking at him, either focused on the music or counting or watching the conductor, and it felt like the smallest form of retaliation that Matteo was willing to participate in. He knew that he couldn’t talk back to Rick, and he was doing all he could to avoid having to actually speak with David, so the glaring was a good alternative.

It was also a bit of a problem, the glaring. Sometimes Matteo would get lost in his own anger, resulting in him getting lost in the music, and Rick would stop the band and tell the baritones to pay attention to the music, not their bandmates, and Matteo would whip his head back to his music, his cheeks red at being caught.

It came to a head during one rehearsal, the first rehearsal since the glaring had started where Rick had to step out of the room. He handed David his baton and walked off with a wave of his hand, and Matteo noticed David smirking in his direction as he took up the position in front of the band.

“Okay, we’re going to start at measure 46,” David said, his eyes yet again scanning over every member of the band, squinting a little as they passed over Matteo, “the low brass has really been struggling with this section, and I’m going to take it faster so we can see exactly who is having trouble.”

Matteo’s eyes widened as he looked over the part David was referencing, realizing quickly that it was the hardest set of measures for the baritone section out of all of their pieces. He looked up again, trying to look determined despite the nerves starting to make his fingers twitch on the valves of his baritone, and caught David smirking at him again. David raised the baton, and Matteo lifted his baritone to his mouth and tried to focus his eyes on the music.

He managed to play through the first few measures correctly, but his nerves got the best of him and he messed up in one of the worst ways you can mess up as a musician; playing during a full-band rest. He felt his entire body tense up as half the band turned to stare at him, and he knew that it was the perfect excuse for David to go off on him.

“I heard that in the baritones, don’t let me hear it again.” David said sternly, the tip of the baton pointing right at Matteo. He looked mad, but there was something slightly encouraging there too, like he was trying to give Matteo another chance.

Matteo was surprised but grateful that his mistake didn’t send David into a fit and really tried to take that second chance and run with it. They started playing again, and Matteo made it through that measure, and then managed to mess up on the next one. He held one note too long and then played a sharp instead of a flat, and David didn’t stop the band but his head flicked to Matteo and he gave him a look that made his fingers freeze, and it took him a measure to come back in because for some reason that look scared him more than the many critiques and looks he had gotten in the past. David looked furious, as if Matteo was messing up intentionally.

They played through the rest of the section, Matteo getting less tense the more measures he played right, and just as they reached the last measure Rick came back into the theater, the door creaking a little behind him, but enough that it distracted Matteo, who not only played the last note wrong, but he felt his face heat up at the monstrous honk that came out the bell of his instrument.

“Matteo!” David snapped, and his other hand grabbed the top half of the baton and quickly bent it, snapping that as well.

Most of the band  gasped, Matteo included. David seemed shocked himself, staring down at the fractured wood in his hands. Rick walked up to him and without saying a word, grabbed the two pieces, and turned to face the band with a stoic expression.

“I think I’ll call it for today, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, before dropping a hand onto David’s shoulder and looking up at Matteo and saying, “You two, in my office.”

Matteo gulped, and tried to ignore the look on David’s face as he got out of his seat and made his way over to his case. He put his baritone away slowly, watching as the rest of the band filtered out through the main doors, some shooting him sympathetic looks as they walked out. He might not have been the best member of the band, but he was nice enough that most people liked him enough, and probably felt bad knowing that he was about to get screamed at. He looked away when he saw David walk into Rick’s office hot on his heels, already saying something that would probably get Matteo in more trouble.

He made his way over to the office once he had all of his stuff together, and took a deep breath before knocking on the door and walking in. He entered and saw Rick sitting at his desk, looking annoyed, and David standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he had just finished ranting, his face red and his chest heaving, and he turned to fix Matteo with a glare as he walked into the room.

“I don’t know why two of my best musicians hate each other as much as you guys do,” he started, and Matteo’s eyes widened a bit at the bluntness of his statement along with the compliment, “but you need to work it out before next week.”

“Sir, I don’t know if I’d say he’s one of the best-” David started, his voice hiding the hint of a pretentious laugh, and before thinking about it Matteo cut him off.

“You don’t know shit about how I play.”

David turned to him with tight lips and said, “Well, I’ve conducted you before, so I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah, how could I forget being verbally abused.”

“It wasn’t abuse, if you aren’t going to play right I’m going to say something and I’m sorry if I don't sugarcoat it. I focus on being right, not on being nice.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Matteo muttered under his breath, and just as David turned to him to snap back at him, Rick clapped his hands together, loudly.

“Okay, I know what we’re going to do to fix this.”

***

That was how Matteo found himself the next day, an hour before band was supposed to start, during his only free period of the day, making his way to the music building so he could get to the practice rooms. He was walking slow, making sure to be on time but exactly on time, because he didn’t want to spend a second longer with David than he had to.

To their chagrin, Rick decided that the best way for the two to get along was for David to help Matteo figure out the parts of the music that he was struggling with. He had set up mandatory twice a week private sessions for both of them. Matteo had a feeling they wouldn’t make it past the first week without screaming at each other.

Matteo got to the door of the room he was meant to meet David in, and he could hear shuffling so he knew David was there already. He rolled his eyes and braced himself before pushing into the room.

“Put your instrument together,” David said, not even looking at Matteo as he set two chairs up in front of a stand, “ and get your music out. Let’s not be here any longer than we have to be.”

David finally turned around when Matteo didn’t move, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo had been expecting the hostility, and knew what he wanted to say in response.

“If we’re being forced to do this,” he said calmly, dropping his baritone case on the chair and popping it open, “I’m not going to let you be a dick to me. You need to be here just as much as I do. If you’re mean I’ll walk out, and then we’re both fucked. Don’t test me.”

He turned and started setting his baritone up, not waiting for David to react or respond to what he said. He only looked up at him once he sat in the chair and had his music on the stand, and he was surprised to see David look down at the ground, his face almost completely neutral except for the corners of his lips, which were twitching up a little.

“Fine,” David said, sitting down in the other chair, moving his leg quickly when his knee bumped into Matteo’s, “Play it right and I won’t be a dick.”

Matteo rolled his eyes but figured that was the best he was going to get, so he took a deep breath before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

He played through the first few measures that David pointed at, trying to be as quick as he could while still following the tempo David was tapping out and playing the notes correctly. He knew that he had nowhere to hide if he messed up. Not that he really did during their bigger rehearsals, but he also felt much more confident playing by himself. He knew he wasn’t going to mess up the timing of anything, but he was worried about a set of measures near the end that had a beat that was so complicated he couldn’t figure it out.

He messed up right away when they got to it and he stopped, expecting David to make some harsh comment that would have him snapping back, but was surprised when his only reaction was, “Go back a few measures, try it again.”

He tried again and messed it up the same way, and then tried again, before putting his baritone down with a huff. He was frustrated at himself for messing it up, especially for messing it up in front of David, knowing that there was no way he wouldn’t say something sarcastic or rude after Matteo messed up for the third time.

“Why are you counting it like that?” David asked, his voice surprisingly devoid of any mocking or cruel tone. He sounded genuinely curious, but Matteo was still wary.

“I don’t know, because that’s how it looks?” He answered quickly, rolling his eyes, shifting uncomfortably under his horn.

“If I’m promising not to be a dick, you need to promise to take this seriously,” David said, turning to look directly at Matteo for the first time since the lesson had started, “I know you don’t really care about all this, but I do, so if that means teaching you how to fucking count I’ll do it. Now, play it again, but right.”

“Who says I don’t care?” Matteo asked, keeping his baritone firmly in his lap, “And I know how to count. That measure just makes no fucking sense.”

“Yes it does, you just aren’t counting it right,” David said, his voice tight, and he took a breath before saying more calmly, “here, give me your horn, I’ll show you.”

Matteo hesitated before handing it over, and he sighed a little in relief when David took Matteo’s mouthpiece off and took another one out of his bag.

Matteo was always impressed at the sound that David was able to pull out of any instrument he touched. There were multiple times where their conductor would ask David to grab an extra trumpet or sax or flute or set of mallets for a marimba, and would shove him wherever the band needed extra help. The only reason he never sent him to sit with Matteo’s section was because they didn’t have any extra horns, and Matteo was beyond grateful for that.

David pointed at the measure, and said, “See, you’re playing this,” he played out the beat that Matteo had been playing and then stopped and said, “but that amount of notes doesn’t fit in the measure, you’re adding an extra one in the middle. It’s supposed to sound like this,” he raised the baritone to his lips again and played out the measure, tapping his foot loudly as he continued playing so Matteo could hear how that measure fit into the rest of the phrase.

He gave Matteo the horn back after switching the mouthpieces again, and Matteo hesitated before starting to play again, and when he got to the measure and played it the way David showed him, it flowed perfectly into the next one and he even saw David smile a little.

“Yeah, you got it that time,” David said, and Matteo smiled back at him before turning back to his music as David said, “now let’s fix this other part.”

***

After a couple of weeks of the private sessions, Matteo was starting to sense a pattern. They would be completely civil during their one-on-one sessions, David only critiquing when necessary and only with comments that were actually helpful, and then they would get to band and it would start all over again. Matteo would get lost, Rick would snap at his section, he would look over and see David glaring at him or shaking his head in disappointment.

He didn’t know why it was getting to him in a way that it hadn’t before. He always knew that David was a little tougher on him than others, but he had really been hoping that the private sessions would stop the glares and the looks and the scoffs whenever he messed up. If anything, the private sessions only made the actual rehearsals worse.

The second boiling point was reached their third week of the private sessions. Matteo had sat through his perfectly cordial hour with David before band, and was even looking forward to playing that day. He felt like he had finally nailed the set of measures that he and David had been working on so he was excited for Rick to hear him play it right. He was so giddy about it that he even smiled when he caught David looking at him from across the band. David had raised a confused eyebrow at him before shifting his gaze back to the front of the band, and Matteo blushed and looked down at the ground, feeling a little silly.

Again, after a little while the conductor had to step away, and again David took his place at the stand, and picked up the baton. He looked right at Matteo as he told the band that they were going to start a few measures before the one Matteo had been messing up, and he sat up a little straighter and returned the look, nodding when David finished speaking. David nodded the slightest bit back at him before raising his arms, and Matteo breathed with the rest of the band before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

And it was like nothing had changed. Matteo found himself getting lost watching David’s waving his arms in all directions, wild but completely in control of himself and the band. He missed one note and David’s eyes flicked to him, and held there as Matteo panicked and stumbled his way through the measure that he had spent two weeks of private lessons fixing.

He saw David’s jaw clench and he cut the band off with a sharp wave of his hand, before turning his full body in Matteo’s direction to say, “So the last few weeks have been a total waste of my time?”

Matteo didn’t think before standing up and walking off the stage, and out of the theater. He ignored the whispers and looks that followed him out, didn’t think about when he was going to be able to go back and get his case and bag and music, and he walked to the hallway of practice rooms and entered one, slamming the door behind him.

***

He emailed Rick and got permission to skip rehearsal the next day, the conductor ending the email with We really need to figure this out before your issues with David end up hurting the rest of the band. Matteo had read the response and collapsed back into bed, glaring over at his baritone (in the case, his roommate and friends brought his stuff out for him after he left).

It was also the first night of the first concert in the music department. Matteo wasn’t performing but he was required to go, and as he got himself ready in his appropriate concert attire, he worried over the fact that David was going to be there, to perform and to watch. Matteo couldn’t think of something he’d like to do less than watch the dude who embarrassed him in front of their entire band perform and get endless praise for it.

Matteo sat quietly next to his friends throughout the concert, and when David walked onto the stage, he felt himself tense up. His best friend Jonas, a trumpet player who was more than aware of the situation in and out of rehearsal, put a hand on his leg and squeezed, trying to offer a bit of comfort. Matteo smiled tightly at him as David lifted his clarinet to his lips and took a deep breath.

No matter how much Matteo hated him, he couldn’t ignore the fact that David was the best clarinet player he had ever heard. It was like his body and his clarinet were formed together, the way he breathed sound through it and moved around it, how quickly he could run his fingers over the keys and play the most complicated string of notes without a single flaw. Matteo found himself entranced by the song David played, and he opened his eyes when the last note faded out into the otherwise silent theater, and he watched as David kept his clarinet up for a beat after the song finished before his eyes opened, and they looked directly into Matteo’s as the audience clapped around him.

He looked away as quickly as he could, ignoring the face Jonas made at his sudden movement, and tried to focus his attention completely on the girl who stepped up next with her violin. He only let his eyes flick to David once more before the concert was over, and while his view was obscured because David was sitting a few rows ahead of him, Matteo could see his fingers twitching in his lap, probably resisting the urge to make the player follow his lead. The concert was over after that last girl, and Matteo turned to his friends quickly to stop himself from staring in David’s direction again.

Coincidentally, (or not at all) the night of the first concert in the music department was also the night of the first party being held by some people in the percussion section, a couple of guys who had a big house that was perfect for hosting a bunch of drunk but mild-mannered music majors.

Matteo had barely even wanted to go, knowing that his reputation amongst the rest of the band was not a great one. He wasn’t hated, but most only knew of him because of the amount of times per rehearsal the conductor would have to stop and critique the baritones (him) or tell the baritones (him) what measure they were on, and now because of all the new drama with David. He also didn’t want to face his bandmates after walking out during the last rehearsal, but the pushing and prodding of his friends made him reluctantly agree.

“Dude, we’re gonna get you so fucked up you can’t even think about what an asshole Schreibner is,” Carlos said as they made their way to the house.

Matteo snorted as they turned onto the correct block, and they quickly spotted the house that was holding the party. There were lights and music loud enough that they could hear it down the street, and Carlos and Abdi started whooping before running over to it.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Jonas said when Matteo hesitated near the front door.

Matteo waited another second before shoving into the house, and throwing back over his shoulder, “Who cares about that asshole, I want to drink!”

And drink he did. Matteo was on his third beer after only twenty minutes, and he was considering it a win that he hadn’t seen David yet. He could feel himself getting more drunk, and didn’t know what he would even say to David if he saw him. He was glad that the little corner of the room he and his friends had grabbed seemed to be pretty hidden away.

Matteo was handed a joint after a little while and he grabbed it quickly, sticking the end in his mouth and taking a deep hit. He closed his eyes as he blew the smoke out his nose, and took another hit as he opened his eyes slowly, and saw David walk into the room. He didn’t seem to notice Matteo though, seemingly focused on getting to someone that was standing in the opposite corner.

“I didn’t know that David and Leonie are friends,” Carlos said quietly, staring over at the two, “she’s in the orchestra with Kiki. I heard she’s just like David but worse.”

“Matteo would love her, then,” Jonas said, ruffling his hair, and he flipped him off before taking another hit and passing the joint along.

“Why are talented and attractive people such assholes,” Matteo said, and when the three other boys turned to him, their eyes wide, he asked, “what?”

“Did you just say something nice about David?” Abdi asked with a grin, and Matteo rolled his eyes as the boys all oooohed.

“Me saying he’s attractive and talented isn’t nice, especially when that was the lead up to me calling him an asshole,” Matteo said, grabbing the joint when it was handed back to him, “I don’t have a single nice thing to say about David. He can play good, but he’s a piece of shit and nobody is going to hire someone with his kind of attitude. He thinks just ‘cause he can play and wave his arms around in the air that he’s going to become a famous musician and conductor, but he needs to work on being a decent fucking person first.”

His rant wasn’t the most coherent, but it felt good to get off his chest, and he leaned back against the wall and took a hit to emphasize his point. The boys were quiet, and when Matteo raised an eyebrow at Jonas, he tilted his head to the front of the group where David was standing, scowling at him.

“We need to fucking talk.” David growled out through his teeth, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, looking like he was going to vibrate out of his skin with the amount of tension in his body.

Matteo said nothing but handed the joint off, and followed after David when he turned and walked out of the room. He was done. At that point he didn’t give a fuck if he got kicked from the program, or if he was fucking kicked out of the school, because he and David needed to settle whatever their issue was then and there.

David led him down the hall and he knocked loudly on a door before shoving it open, and grabbed Matteo’s wrist to pull him inside. Matteo noticed it was a bathroom, and quickly glanced around to see if anybody was watching them. He wondered what they thought was happening. Someone in the band would probably recognize the stiff way David was holding his body, and see Matteo trailing almost lazily behind him, and know that something was about to go down. But someone else might just see two boys going into a bathroom together at a party, and come to a completely different conclusion. Matteo almost laughed at the thought. Yeah, he was gay, but he didn’t know if David was. He didn’t know if David even had the time or patience to date or hook up with anyone.

He could tell that his apparent apathy towards the situation was just pissing David off further, so he closed the door slowly, not even locking it before leaning back against it with a bored sigh. He definitely wasn’t actually as calm as he looked; he crossed his arms across his chest so the shaking in his hands would be less obvious, and it was taking a lot of effort to keep his face neutral when he saw how angry David was. He didn’t think David was going to hurt him or anything, but he was terrified about what the fight could lead to when it came to his position in the band.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Matteo, but I don’t have any kind of attitude. I care about what I do and I want it to be done right. It’s not my fault that you don’t care enough to actually try, but it is really fucking with my experience here,” David said quietly, his voice a little too calm for his red face and clenched fists, “I can’t conduct a band when I need to stop every five seconds because you lose your place.”

Matteo snorted, and leaned his head back against the door. It was taking him a minute to figure out what he wanted to say and he was surprised that David was quiet, like he was giving Matteo the time to think.

“David,” Matteo said, after figuring out what was probably the dumbest part of the whole issue, “you’re good enough to be hired anywhere. Me being a shitty band member won’t stop you,” he paused for a moment, and then picked his head up and said, “And I do try. I’m good. The only reason I’m still here is because they know I’m good. I just don’t need to prove it like you do.”

He was glad that his mind was clear enough to get his exact point across, and he watched David as his words sunk in, realizing that David had probably drank too, considering the way he was leaning back on the counter, his legs a little unsteady. David stared at Matteo for a minute before standing up straighter.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” he said, “I know I’m good.”

“Then why are you such a dick?” Matteo asked, “Like, specifically to me? Yeah, you yell at everyone but you’re just mean to me. Are you homophobic or something?”

Matteo couldn’t stop the thought from drifting through his mind and out his drunk mouth. Maybe David was, and there was going to be no way to solve the issue. What the fuck would he tell Rick?

“What? No, I’m not homophobic,” David said, looking like he wanted to laugh at the idea but was too confused to, “I’m trans.”

“Trans people can be homophobic.” Matteo said, shrugging, knowing that it was a stupid point to make. He was honestly just happy for a break in the tension.

David actually laughed, before tilting his head and smirking at Matteo and saying, “Trust me, I’m not. That would be kinda weird considering I’m also not straight.”

The way he said it made something hot bloom in Matteo’s stomach, and he hated his stupid, gay brain for reacting. That statement combined with the look on David’s face, and the fact that despite their stupid rivalry David was still really fucking hot, was making Matteo lose sight of the original conversation a little.

“You’re hot.” He said, verbalizing his thoughts before he could stop himself, and then he clamped his mouth shut and bit his lip, half terrified that David was going to get angrier, and half glad that he was just getting everything off his chest thanks to the alcohol in his system.

David fell back against the counter, the smirk dropping from his face, and he blinked before stammering out, “Uh. What?”

“I think you heard me,” Matteo said, shrugging, and then he looked off to the side before looking back at David’s confused face and saying again, “you’re hot.”

“Why- what does that have to do with any of this?” David asked, and Matteo couldn’t tell if he was angrier but he sounded different, in a way that made him stand up against the door a little.

He just shrugged again, and then stared at David as he tried to work through whatever was going on in his head. Matteo watched as he stood still for a minute, his fists loosening and tightening at his sides, and he watched as David’s eyes scanned up and down his body with the same focus they would scan the band with, and he watched as David pushed himself off the sink, took a few confident steps forward, and shoved Matteo against the door and pressed their lips together.

Matteo’s eyes widened and then slid closed as he felt David’s hands clutching tight onto his hips, and he grabbed at David’s arms and just as he started moving his lips David pulled away roughly, and was back against the sink in a second.

“That was a bad idea,” David said, holding onto the edge of the sink, avoiding Matteo’s eyes by looking off to the side, “we’re both drunk, we’re fighting, we can’t do that.”

“We don’t have to fight,” Matteo said, knowing that it probably was a bad idea but stepping forward anyway, until he was close enough to see just how tight David was anchoring himself to the sink, “you can tell me to fuck off and I will. Or,” he said, taking another step closer until his foot was kicking against David’s and he could reach out and grab his wrist, “I can stay.”

David only looked back at him when he felt the tug on his arm, and he looked down at Matteo’s hand before looking him in the eyes. Matteo took a risk and slid his hand down, grabbing David’s, and was shocked when David used that grip to pull him in for another kiss, backing him up until his back was smacking into the door again. He got an arm around David’s neck before he was pulling away,  again, and Matteo sighed as David rubbed a hand over his face and said, “Fuck, no, this is such a bad idea.”

“Maybe,” Matteo said, rolling his shoulders as he asked, “can you just make up your mind? This is hurting my back.”

David looked at Matteo again, looked him up and down the same way that he had earlier that night, and something seemed to click. He tilted his head again, his eyes filled with a sudden new brightness as he stepped forward, placing his hands on the door on either side of Matteo’s hips, boxing him in.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” he said, and Matteo raised an eyebrow, amused, before he continued, “whatever happens tonight happens, and then we don’t talk about it, and it never happens again. Deal?”

Matteo thought it over for a minute, more trying to get one last little jab at David by making him wait for an answer, and once he saw David’s face go from confident to bordering on annoyed, he grinned and stuck out his hand, and said, “Deal.”

David ignored his hand but grabbed his ass and pulled him in close, his hands dragging up to Matteo’s waist as their mouths met again, and Matteo slid a hand into David’s hair and let himself melt against the door.

***

Matteo woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and a bad headache, both of which he attributed to the hangover he almost definitely had. He couldn’t even remember drinking that much, but the pain behind his eyes was more than just him being tired like usual. He got himself out of bed, just wanting to drink some water and get into a hot shower to wash away the sweat and alcohol from the party.

He got into the bathroom and turned the shower on, tugging his shirt over his head as he yawned and rubbed at his eyes. He blinked at himself in the mirror, taking in the pale face, the fucked up hair, the red eyes, the bruise on his neck, the-

Matteo jolted forward and slapped his hand over the mark on his neck, before moving it so he could gawk at the dark purple and red. Seeing it brought back a rush of memories from the night before, memories that Matteo couldn’t believe he had forgotten, and he stared at himself with wide eyes and let out a quiet, “Fuck.”

***

Matteo debated whether or not he should skip the next band rehearsal. He knew that realisitcally he couldn’t, and that skipping because of a hickey was so dumb that he shouldn’t have even been considering it. He just didn’t want to face his friends and have them ask questions, and even more than that he didn’t want to see David.

He figured that David wasn’t planning on showing up for their usual private session, so he got to band with just enough time to still be considered early, and he found a quiet corner of the theater to set his baritone up in, a row of seats off to the side. He smiled when he saw Jonas come in, but it fell quickly when he saw Jonas notice the hickey on his neck, and the pure joy and confusion that came over his face.

“Dude!” Jonas exclaimed, staring obviously at the mark, “Who gave you that?”

“Someone from the orchestra, I barely remember his name.” Matteo said as casually as he could, having thought of the lie on his way to band. Jonas nodded with a grin and held out his fist, and Matteo rolled his eyes and bumped his against it, grateful that the idea of him and David hooking up was so unbelievable that it wouldn’t even enter Jonas’ mind.

“And what happened with Schreibner?” Jonas was bouncing on his toes, excited for the news and probably expecting a story.

Matteo snorted and rolled his eyes again, before turning back to his half-assembled baritone, and shrugged and said, “We worked it out.”

Fucked it out is more like it, Matteo thought to himself, and he shook his head to rid it of that kind of thinking.

Matteo got settled in his seat, listening to the cacophony around him, and then finally let himself glance around the room to see where David was. He was surprised when he didn’t find him, unable to think of any other time where David showed up late (besides that one time with the sheet music), but the doors suddenly burst open and the conductor walked in, David hot on his heels as always, whispering as they finished up what looked to be an intense conversation.

“Sorry we’re late, we got caught up discussing the sequence of songs for the concert, but I’m glad to see you’re all ready to go.” Rick said as he grabbed his baton, and he waited for David to sit in his usual seat in the clarinet section before counting them into their first song.

Matteo spent the entire rehearsal trying his hardest to not stare at David while doing exactly that, but he was lucky that David never returned his gaze. He seemed to be actively avoiding looking in Matteo’s direction, which made sense considering the deal they had made, but he was still a little let down that David didn’t even look at him. He even found himself disappointed when David didn’t end up conducting that day, and got up and went over to his case once they were dismissed.

He was glaring at his bottle of valve oil, realizing that he was low and was going to need to go get more, when a shadow fell over him. He looked up with a smile, assuming it would be Jonas, but it dropped when he saw David standing there. He had his jacket on, his clarinet case clutched tightly in his hand, and his backpack on his back, and he was staring down at Matteo with something between apathy and irritation on his face.

“Where were you earlier?”

Matteo raised an eyebrow. He tossed the valve oil back in his case before snapping it shut, and stood up and gathered all of his things before turning to face David again and shrugging, letting his eyes drift to the side as he said, “I figured I’d give things a day to chill after...you know.”

“After what?” David asked, with a tilt of his head, and more pointed, forced confusion on his face than Matteo had ever seen. Oh, so that was how it was gonna be.

Matteo smiled back tightly. “You know what, never mind. I’ll be there next time.”

There was a moment where David’s eyes darted down to Matteo’s neck and back up just as quick. His cheeks got a little pink. Matteo smirked.

“Good.” David said simply, and then turned and left. Matteo stared after him, and smirked when he saw David turn again to look at him one more time before almost jogging out of the theater.

Matteo heard a snort from behind him, and he whipped his head around to see Jonas standing there.

“Fuckin’ dick,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the door, “what was he yelling about this time?”

“Nothing important.” Matteo said, shrugging again, readjusting his grip on his baritone case as they started walking towards the door.

“Is it ever with him?” Jonas joked, elbowing Matteo in the arm, and they both laughed as they left the theater, Jonas waving a goodbye to the people who called out to him. Nobody said anything to Matteo, and he sighed as they made their way down the hall.

“Who knows, man,” Jonas started after a second, pausing and then turning to Matteo with a grin, jabbing him again, “maybe Schreibner is just secretly gay and super jealous of whoever gave you that hickey.”

Matteo snorted, before laughing out loud as they got outside. He shook his head and chuckled when Jonas shot him a confused look.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

*****

The next day that Matteo was meant to meet David, he woke up, and the anxious and dark feeling that settled over him immediately made him want to turn over and go back to sleep. It didn’t have anything to do with David, Matteo knew that, had a diagnosis that proved that, but he couldn’t help the dread that filled him at the thought of sitting in a practice room getting scolded over and over again by the same guy who had given him a hickey the week before.

He lit a joint as he left his place. There were tons of off-campus apartments around his school, and he had managed to get a place with Jonas. It was small, but they had all the rooms they needed, and a balcony attached to Matteo’s room for him to smoke on. It was perfect.

Smoking that day was a bad choice, though. He had gone to band high before, and knew that his fingers would be slower and he wouldn’t be able to focus, but it wouldn’t be any different with the fog filling his head. The only difference was that at least he would be out of it enough to not be bothered by the criticizing.

But by the time he got there, he had almost forgotten that before he had band, he had to see David. He knew it would be obvious he was high, and was preparing himself for whatever David would have to say about it. He was also a little late because he needed to take a minute outside of the building to breath and calm himself down. The weed had done the job of dulling everything coming in, but the anxiety twisting up inside of his gut was still pretty active. He took another shaky breath before pushing into the practice room.

“You’re late.” David said sternly, turning in the seat to glare at Matteo as he shuffled in. Matteo barely acknowledged that he had spoken besides a half shrug until he was settled in his chair, with his baritone set up.

“Bad morning,” he said in a quiet voice, before putting his music on the stand and saying, “let’s just start.”

David went easy on him at first, starting off with one of their simpler songs just to make sure Matteo understood one set of measures that the entire band had been messing up. It didn’t require much complex counting or a lot of movement, so Matteo was playing fine. It was a little further into the session when David switched to a different song, one that Matteo could play most days, but not with his fuzzy brain and fingers that started to shake when David pointed at the measure he wanted Matteo to start with,

He barely got through the first measure before David was cutting him off and telling him to start over, and then stopping him again to count out the beats, and then finally stopping him again when Matteo was playing at a tempo so wrong that he didn’t even know what he was doing.

“Okay, stop, stop,” David said, and he flopped back in his chair with a huff, “what the fuck is going on today?”

“Nothing,” Matteo muttered, leaning back in his chair as well, but crossing his arms over his chest, “I told you, bad morning.”

David turned to stare at him, actually looking at him for the first time he had come in, and Matteo saw understanding dawn on his face before a glare took its place.

“Oh, I get it,” David said, shifting back in his chair, “you’re really trying to get kicked out, aren’t you?”

“No, what the fuck?” Matteo said, shaking his head at the idea.

“So you thought coming in stoned was a good way to keep your spot?”

Matteo froze, before asking quietly, “Are you going to narc?”

David rolled his eyes and snorted, and opened his mouth, before closing it again and leaning back more in his chair. He squinted at Matteo for a second, and then asked, “Why did you do it?”

“What?” Matteo asked, running a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the side because he hadn’t even thought about what could happen if David told anyone that he had showed up high.

“Get high, before coming here? If you aren’t trying to get kicked out? Did you think it was a good idea?” David seemed almost amused by the conversation.

“None of your fucking business.”

“I kind of think it is, though, if you’re going to be showing up here, at a time that I only agreed to meet at because you need help-”

“Shut the fuck up, you have to be here just as much as I do, in case you forgot,” Matteo snapped, feeling himself losing a bit of the control that he was usually very careful to hold onto, “and if you really need to know, my brain is pretty fucked up and coming here and getting yelled at by you doesn’t help. Shockingly, it makes it worse. So if you’re going to run off and tell the department that I’m high, make sure they know it’s because you’re so unbearable to work with that it’s the only way I can get through it.”

David stared at him, and swallowed, his face unreadable. Matteo took a deep breath and looked down at the ground, his pulse pounding in his ears. He pressed his fingers down on the valves of his baritone as he tried to get his breathing back under control after losing his temper, and with the new panic that was filling him. He was done for. There was no way David would let him get away with all of that, and Matteo knew that the department would not be happy to hear that he showed up to a rehearsal high before screaming at everyone’s favorite.

“Okay,” David said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Matteo’s head whipped to him. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed that you’re high right now,” David said, but his voice was still soft, and he was looking at Matteo with the closest thing to sympathy on his face that Matteo had seen from him, “but brains can suck. And I get that I can be...blunt.”

Matteo snorted. “Blunt, sure.”

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” David said, and he took his phone out of his pocket and started typing, “have you ever listened to the songs that we’re playing?”

“Well, he played new pieces for us in the beginning of the semester. And I hear them when we play.” Matteo said with a shrug. He had never really been the type to listen to band music. He loved it, and loved playing it, but it already took up so much of his time. When he was listening to music on his own he usually chose stuff that he couldn’t tell you the time signature of.

“Yeah, but sitting in a section of a band and listening to the people around you is really different from hearing it like the audience does,” David said, barely looking up, “we still have some time before rehearsal, so let’s just listen to the songs until it’s time to go. I’ll point out some parts that you’re struggling with so you can hear how you fit into everything else.”

“Oh. Okay. That sounds good.” Matteo said, staring at David in shock as he kept tapping on his phone. After a few seconds, Matteo could hear the run that starts the first song in their program. David raised the volume and set his phone on the stand, and then leaned back in his chair, the corners of his lips turning up as the clarinet came in, playing the solo that David played every class.

“That person played it better,” Matteo said under his breath, a little uncomfortable with how suddenly accommodating David was being. He was sure light teasing was still safe. He smirked at the eyebrow David raised.

They listened to the next couple of songs, David pausing every now and then to point things out or tell Matteo to listen to the part coming up next. Matteo could see his hands twitching on his lap, tapping along to the beat, and sometimes, seemingly without even noticing, his hand would come up and with just a finger he would conduct to the room. Matteo watched until it seemed like David wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, and he leaned back in his own chair, and closed his eyes.

He was still listening, and he continued tapping his foot to the beat of every song that played. As the last note of the last piece played out in the room, Matteo let out the breath he had taken in and held during the final crescendo. He didn’t realize until then that he hadn’t even put away his baritone, the horn just resting in his lap, his hands moving across the brass and pressing down on the valves of their own accord.

“We should probably head out,” Matteo heard, and he opened his eyes slowly, not expecting to meet David’s as quickly as he did. David was staring at him with another unreadable expression, biting his lips as his eyes darted around Matteo’s face, down to his lips, before he bit his own and jumped up from his chair with a, “yeah, we need to be there in ten. Let’s pack up.”

*****

[insert blah blah whatever but then the conductor is like haha later this week im gonna be gone and david is gonna conduct all of you the whole time and matteo is like “lol k” but it actually ends up being fine?? And matteo plays better and david doesnt have to say anything to him and near the end he actually SMILES at him and matteo is like okay oaky….this is kinda nice i like not fighting with this dude also hes STILL SO FUCKING CUTE]

[flash forward to a couple weeks later they're still kinda getting along like they are still constantly teasing and bantering and arguing but its like,, nice and funny and ,maybe flirty??????]

“Why can’t we talk about it?” Matteo asked, finally, snapping his case shut and turning to stare at David’s suddenly stiff back. He heard David’s case zip up after a second, before he turned around, a tight smile on his face.

“Talk about what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that made it obvious he wasn’t pleased.

“Stop acting like it’s fucking crazy that two people who don’t like each other got drunk at a party and hooked up,” Matteo said, rolling his eyes at David’s carefully controlled expression, “just because you’re so busy and important doesn’t mean you have to be boring.”

“I’m not boring,” David hissed, but he flopped back down in his seat and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling before saying, “I don’t want other people in the band finding out. I have a reputation with them, and I know that...I know this would make things weird.”

“If anything they’ll be jealous of me,” Matteo said with a laugh, “as if you don’t know how many of them eye fuck you while you’re conducting.”

“I’m not...oblivious,” David huffed, and Matteo smirked when he saw his cheeks get red as he looked down at the ground, “and that’s not it.”

Matteo tilted his head, trying to figure out what David meant as he looked up from the ground but off to the side, chewing on his lip. Somewhere in the back of his head a thought started brewing, and once he thought it it was impossible not to clear his throat, and take a breath before asking, “Is it because you think I’m bad? Like, a bad player? Do you not want them knowing you hooked up with me?”

“What? Matteo, no,” David looked at him sincerely for the first time since Matteo had started the conversation, and he reached a hand out, and Matteo jumped when it wrapped gently around his wrist, “I don’t think you’re a bad player, and that...that isn’t the problem. You aren’t the problem with this.”

“Then what is?” Matteo asked, exasperated even though he was the one to ask.

“It’s them,” David said, gesturing vaguely out but Matteo could guess he meant their bandmates, “I love them, but do you know how hard it would be to lead a group of people, including lots of people who have hit on me, if they knew I hooked up with the one member of the band that I-”

“That you what?” Matteo asked too quick, excited to hear the answer.

“That they have seen me get angry in the past- perhaps angrier than necessary.” David said calculating and slow, like admitting it hurt him somewhere deep. Matteo kind of hoped it did. After smiling to himself at that he refocused on the point of the conversation.

“Do you really think I’m planning on telling any of them?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief, “The only other people I talk to besides you are Carlos, Abdi, and Jonas, and I’m not telling them about any of it because I don’t want them giving me shit for any of it.”

“Why do you even want to talk about this?” David asked, looking up and fixing Matteo with a hard stare, “It happened a while ago, and it’s not like we had some romantic fucking moment of reconiliation. We got drunk, we argued, we hooked up, and now we can move on.”

“Well,” Matteo said, licking his lips and shrugging before looking up at David again, knowing that he didn’t really have a reason besides, “I had fun.”

David opened his mouth, and then closed it again, and then opened it again and just went, “Okay?”

“Didn’t you?” Matteo asked, trying for confidence, but coming off as a little desperate with the way he twisted in his seat to make sure he would catch David’s answer.

“I mean…” David started, his cheeks getting darker as his eyes darted around the room, then down to Matteo’s lips and up to his eyes again as he said, “yeah. I did.”

“Yeah, so,” Matteo said, shrugging again, “what’s the big deal if we acknowledge it? It happened, and now we-” he cut himself off, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “and now we see what happens next.”

David’s eyes popped open. Matteo shrugged again before standing and picking his case up, and his bag, and taking a couple of steps to the door. He turned when he heard silence behind him, and saw David frozen in his seat, still staring at him. He stared back for a moment before gesturing out the door and asking, “Are you coming?”

David blinked and nodded, before getting up and gathering his things as well, and he followed Matteo out the door, and they made the short trek to rehearsal.

Matteo felt different sitting down next to his bandmates that day. He was still full of adrenaline, but felt ready to play, quietly humming one of their songs to himself as his fingers pressed down on the associated valves. He couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking to David every few minutes, and he caught David looking back just as Rick walked onto the stage. David coughed and looked away, and Matteo smiled to himself before leaning back in his seat.

He could feel David’s eyes on him throughout the rehearsal, and he was surprised, but it encouraged him to keep sneaking peeks as well. His eyes would wander up from the page even when he was playing just to catch a glimpse of David in his seat, sitting up straight, his strong arms and shoulders holding the clarinet up, his lips wrapped around the mouthpiece-

Matteo was glad he had a lot of rests.

“David! You were supposed to come in there!” Rick yelled suddenly, smacking the score in front of him with his baton, “You’ve never missed that cue before, what’s got you so distracted today?”

The band was silent and they watched David blush as he said, “Sorry, Rick, I’ll focus better. Won’t happen again.”

The conductor just shook his head before telling them to start the piece over, which was followed by angry grumbles and the sound of papers flipping. David looked down at the ground, his cheeks an angry red, and Matteo bit back the smile that threatened to grow on his face.

[david cancels their next private lesson and matteo is like what why and then he gets to band that day and david is conducting again and he basically ignore matteo the entire time and matteo is a lil mad and then after matteo goes up to him and is like “hey wtf why did you cancel on me and then not even correct me when i messed up” and david is like “fuck cause youre super fucknig distracting now and i cant spend an hour alone with you and then get up in front of a group of people and conduct like an idiot cause im too busy thinking about YOU” but hes likes embarassed and actually mad about it and matteo is like oh my god are we going back to the anger i thought we were passed that and davids like well i guess not and matteos like lmao do we need to hook up again cause that seemed like it worked pretty well last time and david is like,, so fucking pissed but is more pissed that hes kind of into that idea so he locks the practice room door and basically they hook up in the practice room because wow what a fantasy that is]

[things are like….weird but chill for a while after that. It seemed like being able to hook up with matteo again made david less distracted by him in a destructive way and even put a bit of a pep in his step?? And matteo notices that hes being a bit nicer to everyone, not just him, and hes actually smiling and complimenting matteo during their private sessions, and even though nothing is explicitly referenced they both know something's going on. Neither of them would call the other a friend though]

[this is after they hook up the third time, which is the first time that isnt completely out of anger but they arent really friends They just happened to run into each other after a concert and were both being a bit flirty and matteo was very boldly like “hey uh come back to my place” because he thinks and david actually does]

“Tell me something about you,” Matteo said, turning his head and propping it up on his arms so he could see David. The light was low in the room, and the plant near his lamp was casting strange shadows on the walls, and on David himself, leaned back against the wall like he was.

“Uh,” David started, his eyes dancing around the room as he tried to think of something, “I started playing the clarinet when I was-”

Matteo reached out and pinched his leg. David twitched, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo hoped that David was okay with the fact that he just kept touching him. It was hard to keep his hands away, and he didn’t know David’s comfort level with non-sexual physical contact. So far he seemed more amused than anything else.

“Tell me something not related to music.” Matteo said, and David snorted at the request.

“Why?” He asked, reaching down to push Matteo’s hair out of his eyes. He bit his lip, wishing that David kept his hand on him longer.

“I just think, you know,” Matteo said, hoping he wasn’t pushing it by sliding his hand onto David’s thigh, the same one he had pinched, “might not be the time to to get into that topic. Just in case.”

I don’t want to start arguing when we just had really great sex and we’re like five minutes away from cuddling if I play my cards right, is what Matteo was thinking, but he figured he got the point across.

David hummed, and nodded, the amused smile still on his face, and tilted his head against the wall and said, “Okay, let me think.”

Matteo stared at him, from where the blanket was draped over his lap, up his bare chest, up the angle of his neck, and still found himself blown away at how beautiful he was. He sighed, glad that David wasn’t watching him swoon.

“Okay I got something,” David said suddenly, turning to Matteo, his eyes bright, “so, growing up we had a cat. My sister got to name it because she was older, and she named the cat Martha Jones, after a Doctor Who character. That cat fucking hated me.”

Matteo laughed, but David didn’t look like he was done, so he prompted him with, “And?”

“Years later, I moved in with my sister, and she wants us to get another cat. So, we go to a shelter, and there’s a cage in the back with a sign on it that says ‘Martha Jones’. Completely different cat, but of course my sister says we have to see her.”

Matteo nodded, enthralled.

“So she goes to ask a worker, and this dude says that that cat was a biter, would hiss, and scratched anyone that went near her unless they had food. Laura insisted, because she’s stubborn, so they brought us into a room and the dude basically tossed the cat in with us and closed the door.”

“That doesn’t sound safe.” Matteo said, shifting closer until he was able to rest his head in David’s lap. He couldn't hold back the need any longer, and he was pleased when David started playing with his hair.

“It wasn’t, she immediately scratched me so bad I started bleeding,” David said with a chuckle, “but she chilled out after a bit, my sister was very persistent. After like 20 minutes she was purring in my lap.” David finished with a proud smile down at Matteo.

If Matteo hadn’t already been crushing that would’ve sealed the deal. It did make something soft settle in his chest, and made his hands a little tingly, and he didn’t think twice before asking, “Can I see a picture?”

David looked thrilled at the question, and he leaned over to grab his phone. Matteo watched, biting back a grin as David scrolled through his pictures before settling on one and handing his phone over, obviously excited for Matteo to see.

The first thing Matteo could make out was a metal music stand, the same basic kind he had in his room for practicing, but it was tilted so the tray was lying flat. He grinned at the cat bed that was resting on top of it, and actually awwwed out loud at the pretty calico, splayed out on her back in a sunbeam. The stand was in front of a large window, and Matteo could see plants around it, and he wondered if it was David’s room.

“Yeah,” David said, looking at the picture again himself before putting his phone down. Matteo felt a tug on his hair, and he looked up to see David staring down at him, and he said, “now you.”

“Me? I don’t have any cats to show off,” Matteo said, wrapping his arms around David’s legs so he could squeeze himself closer.

“No, now you have to tell me something about yourself,” David said, rolling his eyes, but his face was softer than Matteo had ever seen it.

“Oh, shit,” Matteo said, not thinking that David was going to turn the conversation on him, and he hummed for a second before saying the first thing he could think of, “well, I like to sing. When I was younger I used to have a vocal coach and everything, now I mostly just sing whenever my roommate isn’t home.”

It wasn’t something he brought up, or really thought about too often, because ultimately the decision for him to stop the training was out of his hands, and he regretted not being able to go farther with it the same way he could with the baritone.

“Why’d you stop?” David asked, his voice soft, as if he could sense the sadness underlying the statement.

“Well,” Matteo said, shifting back a little bit so he could roll onto his back and say it up to the ceiling, “my mom was the one who got me the lessons, I had already been taking them for the baritone for a year or so. My dad got pissed, because I was already singing in the church choir at that point, and he didn’t want singing to distract from my other music shit. When I got older, uh,” he paused to take a breath, “there was a while where my mom wasn’t living with us, so all the singing lessons stopped. I stopped singing at church, too, and, well. I was better at the baritone anyway.”

He hadn’t noticed that while he had been talking, David had slid down more on the bed until he was resting on his side, and he was staring with a concerned look when Matteo turned to him again,

“They have vocal coaches through the school,” David said, an arm inching across the mattress towards Matteo, “you can sign up for one, if you want. I can get you the email of the person who sets them up, I-”

Matteo laughed at David’s eagerness to help, cutting him off, and rolled back over onto his side, surprised at how close he found himself to David. He felt a hand gently sliding onto his hip, and he bit his lip, his eyes meeting David’s, and he leaned in to kiss him.

David didn’t seem to have expected it. He made a sound, and Matteo worried for a moment that he was going to pull away but instead he was pulled in closer, David’s hand sliding onto the small of his back. He pulled away, and David rolled onto his back, his cheeks pink.

“Thanks, but I don’t need any of that,” Matteo said, and he hesitantly let his head drop onto David’s shoulder, and then let his arm drape across his stomach when David tangled their legs together, “it’s just something I do for fun now.”

“For fun,” David repeated, and then took a breath and asked, “since the topic of music is back on the table, do you want to hear a secret?”

Matteo looked up, amused, and then propped his chin on David’s chest so he could see him better, and he said, “Yes, please.”

“So, I can play almost every wind instrument, right? And brass too, and I can figure out percussion pretty quickly. I can pretty much play anything you’ll find in the average wind ensemble, and then some.”

Matteo rolled his eyes, “That’s not a secret.”

“Yeah, but,” David took another breath, and it seemed like it actually pained him to say, “I can’t play anything with fucking strings.”

“Really?” Matteo asked, leaning up a bit more so he could see the hurt on David’s face, and he grinned, and questioned, “not even guitar? Or ukulele? Even I can play those a bit.”

“Nope,” David sulked, “nothing. One time my friend gave me her violin to try and she said I should be banned from ever touching anything with strings again.”

Matteo covered his mouth with his hands to stop the giggles that were threatening to pour out of him. It wasn’t like there was any actual expectation that David was able to play every single instrument that existed, but the shame he seemed to be feeling about his own inability was hilarious.

“Now you have to tell me something else too,” David said, poking Matteo in the cheek, obviously trying to change the subject,

“You offered that information up freely, I don’t have to tell you shit.” Matteo snarked back. He was still reeling from how strange this new dynamic was, and he wanted to push a bit, see what was allowed.

David scrunched his face up before suddenly grabbing Matteo’s wrist and flipping him onto his back, David hovering over him, looking much too pleased with himself. Once he could tell Matteo wasn’t going to try to move he slid his hand off his wrist and down his chest, onto his hip, and blinked his dark eyes slow and said, “Tell me something.”

“I can speak Italian,” Matteo blurted out immediately, unable to resist a hot, mostly naked boy pinning him to his bed.

“Oh yeah?” David asked with a grin, “Fluently?”

“Yeah,” Matteo said, his eyes wide as he stared up at David, “my dad’s from Italy, we spoke it when I was growing up.”

David hummed, still looking down at Matteo with the same cocky smile on his face, and said, “Say something.”

“No,” Matteo refused, and with a sudden burst of confidence he slid his hand onto the back of David’s head and said, “kiss me.”

David’s eyes widened but he smiled, and did as told. The conversation ended there.

*****

A few days later, a weekend, Matteo walked out onto his balcony. It was midday, and he had already eaten and gotten the work done for his academic classes, so he had an unlit joint dangling between his lips. He stretched, and squinted when the sun shone down on him bright enough to hurt his eyes. He dashed back into his room, intent on finding the sunglasses he knew were somewhere, and he saw something balanced against the wall in the corner that made him pause.

It was a ukulele, his ukulele, one that a random family member had gotten him when he was first accepted to the school. It was a bright blue, and Matteo knew that with most instruments a bright color didn’t ensure the best quality, but he didn’t mind because he barely played the thing. It was good enough for the random time every few months where Matteo would decide to teach himself a new song.

He thought back on his conversation with David. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up, remembering David’s pained face when he revealed his secret, and with a small laugh he grabbed the neck of the ukulele and tucked it under his arm. He found his sunglasses on the floor next to his desk, and slid them onto his face before walking back out the door.

He leaned against the railing of the balcony as he lit the joint, smiling around it, and puffing the smoke out his nose. His room faced out to an empty street, across from a bunch of buildings that he was sure nobody had gone inside for years. He liked how private it felt, for the years he had lived there he had only seen a handful of people out there.

Which made it the perfect place for him to pluck out a few random chords on the ukulele without the judgement he usually faced when playing music. He wasn’t good by any means, but he knew enough chords to play enough songs to keep himself occupied. There were even a few times when he and Jonas had played together out there, usually after a few beers or joints when Matteo was feeling less self conscious about giggling as he badly played along with Jonas actually playing his guitar.

He puffed on the joint, his eyes closing under the sunglasses as he started strumming. His fingers had settled naturally on the frets, playing the chords to the last song he had taught himself, one Jonas had played in his car that got stuck in Matteo’s head. He hummed along, but stopped when the joint almost fell out of his mouth. He took a step back, rolled his shoulders, and started playing again.

The joint did fall out of his mouth, tumbling to the ground at Matteo’s feet, thankfully not setting anything on fire, when he heard from the street below him, “Matteo?”

Oh god, he recognized the voice immediately. He bent down to grab the joint and stubbed it out on the ashtray conveniently right next to him, and took a deep breath before peeking over the railing. And he was right about the voice, as David was standing there, a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, squinting up at the balcony.

“Uh, yeah,” Matteo called back, lifting a hand to wave awkwardly before realizing that he was still clutching the ukulele, so he set it down, his fingers tight around the neck, “that’s me.”

“Nice shades.” David said, smirking up as he moved his hand from his eyes. The sun was going behind some clouds so the glare was gone, and Matteo lifted the sunglasses from his eyes with a blush.

“What are you doing over here?” Matteo asked, leaning over the edge so he could get a closer look. David had a bike next to him, and a backpack tight on his back, obviously either coming or going from somewhere.

“Oh, well, actually,” David said, digging the toe of his shoe into the ground like he was embarrassed by the question, “I was just taking a shortcut.”

Matteo snorted, and looked down at his arms folded across the railing. He didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t expecting to see David obviously, and it didn’t seem like David’s answer matched his reaction to the question. He wanted to know what that was about. After an almost awkward silence, just as David’s hand tightened around the handle of his bike, Matteo quickly asked, “Do you want to come up?”

Something about David made Matteo do that a lot, blurt out things that drifted through his head that he wouldn’t usually say without a second more to think about it. He blushed after he asked, looking down at his arms again, not wanting to watch David uncomfortably decline. Sometimes it was hard to remember that they weren’t really supposed to like each other.

“Okay.” David said, confidently, and Matteo’s eyes snapped back down. David was looking up at him with his head tilted, a smile on his face like Matteo’s question was a challenge.

“Oh,” Matteo responded, needing to take a minute to realize that David was actually agreeing, “um, go around the front and I’ll buzz you in?”

David nodded, and hopped on his bike and disappeared around the corner of the building. Matteo let out a breath and rushed into his room, looking around with wide eyes to see what he needed to quickly kick under his bed and shove in his closet. He managed to tidy his room up enough to not be embarrassed by the time the buzzer went off, and Matteo ran to it, not even knowing if Jonas was home but desperately hoping he wasn’t.

He pulled the door open, biting his lip when David came into view, smiling slightly in that cocky way he did. He felt like he would swallow his tongue if he spoke out loud so he waved David into the flat, blushing at the chuckle David let out as he did so, and David bowed his head as he walked in, stepping past Matteo and stopping in the entrance to the main part of the flat.

“We should go chill on your balcony,” David said, looking around like he had never been there before. To be fair, the only time David had been there they were stumbling through the dark to Matteo’s room trying to keep their lips connected, so he didn’t blame him for taking the time to look around in the daylight.

Matteo nodded, and then realizing he hadn’t actually said anything since David came up, cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, sure.”

He led an amused David through his room, pointedly avoiding looking at his bed, his face flushing although he kept his eyes trained forward. David didn’t say anything, or even show in any way that he remembered the fact that just days ago they had been wrapped up in each other in that very same bed, kissing and touching and a lot else. Matteo didn’t know how he was so nonchalant about it when the sight of the bed instantly brought the taste of David’s lips to Matteo’s head, the feeling of his hands on him, Matteo’s hands in his hair. He shook his head and pulled the door to the balcony open harder than he meant to.

He was glad that they had chairs set out on the balcony, ones they had found outside some other building when they first moved in. They didn’t match but they were surprisingly comfortable and most importantly, not broken. Matteo only sat after David had picked a chair, and looked up at him, an amused smile still on his face.

“I should tell you that I lied, earlier.” David said suddenly, after Matteo sat. He looked up, confused, at David’s smile.

“Lied about what?”

“I wasn’t really taking a shortcut.”

Matteo raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

David nodded, and bent down, digging around in the backpack at his feet. Matteo settled back in his seat to watch until David sprang back up with a book in his hand.

“Don’t tell anyone,” David started, flipping to a page near the end, “but I might sometimes sneak into buildings in a way that isn’t totally...legal.”

Matteo smiled at that, tilting his head, and asked, “For any particular reason, or do you just like the thrill?”

David smiled back, not cocky, and said, “It is pretty thrilling, especially when you get chased out by security guards. But I really do it for this.”

His cheeks got a little rosy when he handed the book over to Matteo, and Matteo’s jaw dropped when he looked down at the page. He was expecting words, but instead there was a sketch done in black pencil, and it took Matteo a minute to piece together what it was.

[idk dude figure out what he drew i guess lmao i dont care enough to try to write this part rn]

“These are… really good,” Matteo said, flipping through the pages. He didn’t really know if David wanted him to but he didn’t try to stop him, so Matteo let his eyes wander over the pages.

“Yeah, well,” David said, sounding a little sheepish, “it’s a hobby, I guess.”

Matteo was quiet as he turned page after page, finding sketches of more abandoned buildings, random people, different plants. A cat popped up a few times, which made Matteo smile, along with the doodles of instruments and staff lines half filled with notes. He didn’t realize how long he had been absorbed in the book until he noticed he was on the second to last page. He stared at the drawing that seemed somewhat familiar, a barely-started portrait, a head with short swooping hair, a button nose, a small smile-

“Okay, um,” David said quickly, his hand darting out to grab at the book, “yeah, a lot of those last ones aren’t finished. Not really that interesting.”

“I thought they were,” Matteo muttered, a little annoyed at being interrupted. He had been enjoying himself.

“I, uh,” David started as he shoved the book back into his bag, “don’t usually show that to people.”

Matteo tilted his head. He had never seen David look less sure of himself. He leaned back in the chair, biting his lip, his eyes avoiding Matteo’s. He seemed almost… shy? Timid? Words that Matteo would never associate with David.

“Well, you should,” Matteo said after a moment of silence, “it sucks that you’re amazing at that too.”

That got a bit of a chuckle, and Matteo grinned at David until their eyes met. There was a beat, and then David looked away again.

“I don’t know,” David said, his cheeks getting pink again, “that’s something I really only do when I need to escape. I just… go somewhere, and draw whatever I can find. I don’t really show people because I’m not doing it for anyone else. Like… you know.”

Matteo had a million questions about what he meant by that, but David had crossed his arms over his chest and looked off to the side after saying it, his jaw set. He let out a long exhale through his nose, and Matteo got the hint that he didn’t want to further dissect that statement.

Matteo leaned back in his chair, quiet, trying to figure out how to turn the conversation back around. He could tell David maybe hadn’t meant to say as much as he did, maybe was a little embarrassed at revealing something so personal. Showing off a picture of his cat a week or so prior was nothing compared to talking about something that he was actively keeping to himself. His escape, from what Matteo knew was a very stressful and hectic life.

He thought for a moment, his eyes darting around the balcony to find something to change the topic, to stop David from looking so uncomfortable. His eyes landed on his ukulele. He paused there, the thought alone making his heart race and something nervous twist up in his stomach, but before he could stop himself he reached out and grabbed it, letting it settle in his arms the way it always did. David didn’t look over until Matteo accidentally twanged one of the strings.

“Um,” he said, when David’s eyes widened and a grin started growing over his face, “I’ll trade you.”

The grin stopped, David tilted his head in confusion and asked, “You’ll trade me what?”

“You told me about what you do that’s just for you, that you don’t usually share with other people,” Matteo strummed, quickly adjusting a couple of the tuning pegs until the sound was just right, “only fair that I do the same.”

“I didn’t think that playing the ukulele was that important to you.”  David said, uncrossing his arms, relaxing back into his chair a bit. The tension was gone from his face, and his lips were curved up at the sides.

“It’s not,” Matteo said with a smirk that looked more confident than he felt, and he took a deep breath before putting his fingers on the frets.

He started strumming the song he had been playing when David showed up, looking down at his hands because he knew he would need to focus on the chords and not on David looking at him. He took another deep breath, tried not to think about it, and started singing.

“There once was a bittersweet man and they called him Lemon Boy….”

Matteo hadn’t considered the lyrics before singing them, just picking a song that was fresh in his head so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by messing up, not that David would have been shocked by that. It was a simple song, pretty, one that he didn’t have to think too hard about. But as he sang it, as the lyrics came out of his mouth less timid with every word, he felt butterflies in his stomach. He got to the chorus, and closed his eyes.

“Lemon Boy and me started to get along, together,” he sang, ignoring the heat he could feel spreading across his cheeks, “I helped him plant his seeds and we'd mow the lawn in bad weather.”

Matteo stumbled on a chord, managed to fix it in a second but he knew David heard it. He continued, though. David had reminded him of that often, not to stop when he made a mistake.

“It’s actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him...”

He sang the next verse, getting a little sloppy with the chords as he failed to not think about the words he was singing. He got through it, got halfway through the next chorus, and was suddenly cut off when loud classical music started playing from David’s bag. His hands stilled, and he opened his eyes.

It was as if David hadn’t even noticed he stopped, or the sound coming from somewhere near his feet. His eyes were wide, shiny and dark, staring into Matteo’s, leaning forward in his chair like he didn’t want to miss a single word, a single strum of Matteo’s fingers over the strings. His head was tilted, lips parted just enough that a long shaky breath could escape, his hands gripping tight to the arms of the chair. He looked awed by Matteo’s mediocre performance.

David’s gaze snapped down to his bag when the classical music started again, and he whispered an, “Oh, shit,” as he dug through it. He pulled his phone out and Matteo expected him to put it to his ear, assuming the music was a ringtone, but instead he could see it was an alarm that David turned off with a slide of his finger across the screen.

“I was supposed to be home a while ago, I need to, uh,” David cut himself off as he stood, shoving his phone into his pocket and zipping his bag closed before swinging it onto his back, “I have to do my shot today.”

“Oh,” Matteo responded, not understanding what David meant. He wasn’t able to say anything else, like singing had taken the rest of his voice for the day.

“You know, testosterone?” David stuttered out, nervous, as if Matteo didn’t already know he was trans.

“Oh,” Matteo said again, almost smacking himself in the face when he blurted out, “have fun?”

That made David pause, his franticness to leave slowing as a smile grew over his face. He bit his lip, and then to Matteo’s shock, let out a laugh.

“I’ll try my best,” he said, winking. That action alone was enough to have Matteo collapsing back into his chair. David turned towards the door, put one foot back into the apartment, and then stopped before saying, “oh, and Matteo?”

“Yes?” Matteo said, leaning forward again, greedy to hear whatever David was about to say.

“One day I’ll show people my art. Have an exhibit at a museum, maybe.” he said, turning his head so he could look back at Matteo with a soft smile on his face, “but only if I can hire you to sing there.”

Matteo’s jaw dropped, his face turning bright red as David walked through the door. He flopped back in his chair, waited until he could hear the clicks of his door opening and then closing, and let out the breath he had been holding for who knows how long.

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut  words: 2.2k

a/n: and here we are at the end, tbh im a little sad this fic is over, it was so fun to write and i am DEFINITELY more in love with Atsumu than i was before

one | two | three | four | five |

Epilogue 

Four years have passed since you and Atsumu finally got together, and this is the third year in a row he has an away game scheduled on your anniversary. It’s hard for you to actually be mad, he can’t control his schedule. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be disappointed.

And Atsumu hates that he’s let you down again. Wanting more than anything to finally spend your actual anniversary together instead of substituting for an early or late celebration. You’re a good sport, and he loves you for that, supporting him and his volleyball career without complaint despite his long absences and track record of missing important events.

Though the night before he’s set to leave, you’re sitting beside him on the couch, tucked under his arm while the two of you watch something on the TV. For the past few minutes, you’ve been fiddling with his shirt between your fingers and he knows you’re gathering the courage to say something. He’s pretty certain he can guess what it’ll be about too. And all he can do is brace himself when he hears you huff.

“What if you mysteriously came down with something?” You finally say.

He has to laugh at that. “That’s pretty diabolical of you.”

You shrug, already feeling silly you brought it up at all. It’s not really a big deal, but it’s been three years since either of you were even in the same country on the day you swallowed your pride and stormed into his dorm room to confess to him. Sue you for being a bit put out by it.

“Did you poison my dinner or something?” His heart lifts at the small chuckle he gets out of you from that.

“No, but don’t give me any ideas.”

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, eyes still on the TV as he jokes, “Besides, ya think they have any chance of winning without me?”

He feels your smile against his chest, then jolts at the jab you give him in the side. But still you say, “They’d be nothing without you.”

Pulling you into his lap, he cradles your face in his hands and looks at you seriously. And even after four years, you’ve never gotten tired of the way he looks at you—still like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I know it sucks.”

“It does,” you pout.

Pressing his forehead to yours he murmurs, “I’d be with you if I could.”

You love these intimate moments with him, when you both let your teasing natures fall away and all that’s left is how much you love each other. Even after four years, it’s still abundant, and somehow still growing every day. So, you sink into his embrace and reply, “I know.” And you do. That’s what makes it bearable. Knowing that even though he’s off in some exciting country, playing the game he loves—there isn’t a minute that goes by that he doesn’t think about you.

“You gunna watch the game?”

It so happens that this year, his game landed on the exact date of your anniversary. When he’d found out, he’d vowed to make you proud; to make him being away so often worth it to you. And it makes his heart swell when you say without hesitation, “Of course.”

So, a couple days later as he’s about to leave for the airport, he tugs you to him, lowers his lips to yours and kisses you as if he’s going off to war or something. He knows it’s a bit overkill, but he doesn’t really care. He wants to do everything he can to make it up to you. And damn, is he slapped in the face with how much he loves you when you finally separate and you tease him, “Sheesh, you’ll be back in a couple days.”

His response is to kiss you again and again muttering between kisses, “Gotta get my fill now to tide me over.”

He only leaves when you’re practically shoving him out the door. “You’re going to be late!” He reluctantly let’s go of you, hefts his duffel over his shoulder, takes his suitcase in hand and heads down the hallway towards the elevator. On his way there, you shout, “Say hi to the boys for me!”

He smiles smugly, winking over his shoulder at you. “Will do.” Knowing full well his teammates are extremely jealous of him because of you. And why yes—he absolutely does love rubbing you in their faces.

Once he’s out of sight, your smile falters as you shut the door and turn to your now empty apartment. A sadness falls over your heart that’s familiar but unwelcome. You have to find something to distract yourself, otherwise you’ll just let yourself wallow, which you know Atsumu wouldn’t want.

On the night of your anniversary, you eat dinner at Osamu’s restaurant as you normally do on the nights of Atsumu’s away games. You sit at the bar alone, watching the game on the many TV’s around that Osamu always has on the sports channel when Atsumu is playing. Tonight, you notice Osamu chats with you more than he normally does, and you’re certain he’s picked up on your somber vibes.

He even sits at the bar next to you, talking with you about the game and doing an excellent job of distracting you from the hole Atsumu always leaves whenever he’s gone. Tonight, that hole feels even bigger than it usually does.

“He’s playing good tonight,” Osamu notes, his trained eyes fixated on the TV. No matter how many games you watch, or how often Atsumu talks about volleyball, you’ll never have the same understanding of the game that Osamu does.

Chin resting on your palm, you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Is he?” To you, it always looks like Atsumu is playing well.

But you like listening to Osamu’s technical breakdown of his gameplay and aren’t opposed to helping his endeavor of distracting you. “He’s tuned in,” is all he says by way of explanation.

You watch the TV with newfound interest, noticing that Osamu seems to be right. Atsumu is normally pretty focused, but tonight whenever the camera shows a closeup of him, the look in his eyes is razor sharp. And yet, he’s still making those insane plays that catch his opponents completely off guard. You can feel your pride bubbling up in your chest like it does every time you watch him play, quirking your lips upward into a small smile.

You love how much Atsumu loves volleyball, and whenever you can you go to his games here in Japan because watching him on TV is nothing compared to in person. Plus, it’s way more fun getting swept up into his arms in the heat of the moment after a win than several days later when the excitement has died a little.

You watch Atsumu the rest of the game, noting how the closer they get to match point, the more tenacious he becomes. But unlike other times, when he gets too excited and starts making insane plays that might not work, he seems to be dialing in even further, pulling the best out of all of his hitters even when they’re at the end of their rope. You at least know enough about volleyball to appreciate just how amazing that is.

To your delight, the Black Jackals win, and as usual several of the players get interviewed afterwards. Somehow, Hinata and Bokuto are still full of energy despite playing a full match, speaking excitedly to the interviewer. The coverage switches to Atsumu’s interview, and you can’t help ogling him a little bit. He somehow manages to look good, his hair damp from sweat but eyes gleaming from the adrenaline of the match.

And as you suspect, like Hinata and Bokuto, he’s pretty amped after the game. Amped enough that he completely ignores the interviewer’s questions and looks right at the camera. Immediately, you’re struck by the feeling that he’s looking directly at you. “I’ve only got one thing to say and that’s happy anniversary to the lovely lady I got waiting for me at home.”

The interviewer flusters, changing gears quickly and trying to get Atsumu to comment more on his relationship, but all he does is give the camera his signature smile and a wink before turning his back to the screen and rejoining his celebrating teammates. You don’t hear what the interviewer says next. You’re pinned to your seat, stunned, until your natural reaction is to burst out laughing at his proclamation.

Osamu just eyes you curiously, a small smile splaying across his lips as you say, “Only Atsumu—I swear.”

He shrugs. “Hey, you picked him.”

“Yes,” you laugh. “Yes, I did.” And you really wouldn’t have it any other way, no matter how long or how many times he’s apart from you.  

You leave shortly after the coverage of the game has ended, bidding Osamu goodnight and thanking him for his company and hospitality. He waves you out, and once you’re on your way home, you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the loneliness you’ve successfully kept at bay until now. The thought of climbing into a cold bed that feels too big when Atsumu’s not there settles into the front of your mind and it’s hard not to spiral into the sadness that’s been looming over you all day.

You sigh, wrapping your coat tighter around you, trudging towards your apartment that you know is going to suffocate you with its silence. You know it’s pretty pathetic missing him so much, feeling sorry for yourself that you’re alone once again on this day, but you can’t help it. The hope that next year will be different is nearly gone by now, your determination to refuse to accept it finally broken.

Entering the dark apartment, you toss your keys onto the counter and make your way to the living room, fully intending on spending the rest of the night mindlessly watching some TV show until you fall asleep. Subconsciously, your thoughts wander to what Atsumu is doing right now. The team usually goes out after games, especially ones they win. And it’ll be a day or two until they leave wherever they’re at, so they have plenty of time.

Part of you aches at the thought of him out, having a good time with his team, while you’re here—alone, watching some lame TV show and feeling sorry for yourself.

What you don’t know, is that Atsumu has forgone the celebration tonight. In fact, he’s rushing to the airport to catch his late flight back to Japan. He booked this flight the day after he found out he was going to be gone again. He might not make it back in time to be there on the actual date, but he hopes the gesture is enough.

On the flight, he thinks about your reaction, imagining your laugh and beaming smile at the sight of him. Daydreaming about sweeping you up into his arms and kissing you until you’re both breathless and dizzy keeps him awake, though he doubts you’ll be when he arrives. That’s alright, he perfectly happy surprising you in the morning too.

He gets back to Japan in the early hours of the morning, and when he enters the apartment, he finds you fast asleep under a blanket on the couch, the TV casting a faint glow into the room. He smiles softly to himself, allowing himself a minute to appreciate how adorable you look. Leaning down, he finagles his arms beneath your shoulders and legs and hefts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom. To his surprise, you don’t wake up. Instead, you mumble quietly, and his heart nearly bursts at how even in your sleep you press closer to him.

Tucking you in, he kisses you lightly on the forehead before climbing under the covers beside you. Pulling you into his arms, you fit nicely in his embrace, and he falls into an easy sleep.

~

In the morning, your eyes flutter open, blearily looking around and realizing you’re now in the bedroom. When did you move in here? Did you put yourself to bed last night without realizing it? It’s then that your eyes snap open at the realization that the apartment smells like breakfast. Heart thundering against your chest, you throw the covers off you and head towards the kitchen so fast you almost trip in the hallway.

Upon seeing Atsumu standing at the stove, his back to you, it’s hard to keep your feet under you. And without your permission, tears well up in your eyes so fast that a few drops are already sliding down your cheeks. You sniff to try and get a hold of yourself, which gets Atsumu’s attention.

He whips around to find you standing at the entryway of the hallway with tears streaking down your face and immediately his heart softens. “Happy anniversary, love,” he says by way of greeting.

You can’t stop yourself; your feet move before your brain can catch up with them, throwing yourself into his open arms. He squeezes you tight, and then your lips are on his, your fingers tangling into his hair pulling him closer as you slot your body against his. He can’t help chuckling at you, despite thoroughly enjoying this reaction to his surprise.

“I’m trying to cook breakfast,” he says between kisses.

You don’t think he’ll be very hard to convince to abandon the eggs on the stove. With one hand, you turn the burner off. “Don’t care,” you say, pushing him back towards the bedroom.

He happily obliges.

~

taglist:  @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa @carbs-need-more-love @underratedmage @idek-at-thispoint @wtfeverbrandi @food8me @yikes-buddy @ntimacy @nyxiie @oikawasbooty @chocolate3010 @sugawarabby @greenyiplier @kritiiiii @tokyosdawn @youstydiaa @h3llok1ttygirl @honeyapplepi @iminlovewhaikyuu @moonlightaangel @tetrapot-melon-tea @putmeinyourdeathnote @fireworkemoji102 @angrylittleriri @anime-simp @hxked @silverwhare @grandfestivalalienlight @waitforitillwritemywayout @tendo-sxtori @plxstic-rose @hqissodelicate @unknownloving @cielhidalgo @mattsunsoswag @yoitsseulgi @whenyouscream @cereal-kileeeeer @jackadlersstuff @oopsliales @sssjuico10 

[daddyjackfrost]

okay heyy 🥰 do you write for lev? How about Lev + 34 👀

heyyy🥰🥰🥰🥰 i do now!

prompt 34: “If I gave you a chance, would you take it?”

hurt/comfort (aged up!) (bye this isn’t even hurt??)

lev x f!reader

You tapped your foot, irritated. Lev is late again, and you had just about had enough.

You had met Lev a couple of months ago. You had just found a new coffee house and it quickly grew on you. Coincidentally, it was Lev’s favourite coffee house.

You didn’t spot Lev, though you often wonder how you could’ve missed him. Lev spotted you. Tucked away in a secluded corner, your face covered by you favourite book. The Secret History. It wasn’t until you felt a tap on your book that you realized Lev was trying to talk about you.

You still remember what he said.

“That’s my favourite book! I feel like I identify with Richard too much.”

Instantly, you were intrigued with the insanely tall grey haired man. You remember how his green eyes pierced your own, and the way your cheeks flushed when you took in how good looking he was.

Sighing, you pushed your chair back and stood up, grabbing your iced coffee. Lev had asked you out to coffee today but he didn’t even show up. It had happened three times now, and you had enough.

You knew how demanding his job was. Modelling was not easy, and you prided Lev for working so hard, but it didn’t feel nice to be stood up.

You grabbed your purse and walked out the coffee house, tired and slightly embarrassed.

As you walked, you tried not to think about Lev. After he had said he identified with Richard Papen, you invited him to sit, and from there on, you and Lev became fast friends. Obviously, it was very hard not too fall for the model. Not only were his good looks just overwhelming, his personality was capturing. His catlike slanted green eyes were intimidating, but when he opened his mouth, all that intimidation was thrown out the window.

Lev was a slightly childish and cheerful guy, and he had wedged his way into your heart.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wait!”

You didn’t stop. You didn’t need Lev to look at you with those piercing eyes, because you knew you would forgive him, but you were quite sick of being stood up.

A firm hand grabbed your shoulder, halting you. You shrugged the hand off and turned around, meeting Lev’s covered eyes.

He wore sunglasses and a hat, trying very weakly to cover his identity.

“Y/n, hold on. I’m sorry.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. Lev looked down at you with guilty eyes, but you didn’t waver. You liked him, but did you like his lifestyle?

“Sorry, Haiba. I have somewhere to be.”

You didn’t even manage to take a step before Lev had grabbed your arm, gently.

Pleading, he looked down at you. Lev knew he was late. God, he knew. But he couldn’t escape his manager.

“I’m so sorry. Let’s go for coffee right now?”

You both looked down at the coffee in your hand and he cringed, rubbing the back of his neck.

You tried to smile at him. It didn’t matter how much you liked him. Your lives differed, and you didn’t belong in his lifestyle. You knew that, and it was time he did too.

Taking a couple steps back, you gripped your bag tighter.

“Lev.”

Lev looked at you at your voice.

Flexing your fingers anxiously, you took a deep breath. “I think you’re really cool, but I don’t think we should continue... whatever this is. You’re busy all the time, and I don’t like the feeling of being forgotten. Let’s just part ways, yeah?”

You wanted to end what hadn’t even started yet. There was no point in getting attached or create expectations when you knew you would just be disappointed in the end.

Lev looked down at you with wide eyes. The model wasn’t used to having people not want to be in his company.

“You...you’re sure? I promise I won’t be late again. Scouts honour.”

Your lips lifted into a small smile at the attempt at humour, but you both knew he was lying. Lev was late to a lot of things, and it turns out he was too late here too.

You nodded softly. It’s not that it didn’t hurt, it did, but you didn’t have high expectations. You were just you, and Lev, well Lev was so much more. A previous volleyball player and now model. There was no place for you in his world, not with your ordinary self.

“Yeah.”

You didn’t let any more conversation happen. Smiling at him, you turned around and walked away.

Though, absent minded to you, you were the first person to walk away from Lev Haiba, and he hated it.

*** 4 Months Later ***

Stupid, is what you are. You honestly thought that you would last see Lev that day, but you had forgotten that you lived in the heart of the city, in an apartment.

You woke up to a shirtless billboard of Lev Haiba every day since that day.

It was ironic really.

Every time you looked at the billboard, which was at least once a day, you couldn’t help but think about what could have been. What would your life look like right now if you hadn’t cut Lev off?

Shrugging, you lulled yourself to your kitchen. You had an early shift at the library and you wanted to eat before you got there.

You had only opened your fridge door when the bell rang.

Sighing, and then slamming the door closed, you trudged to the door, pulling it open.

Your breath hitched when your eyes fell on the man that had plagued your thoughts for the last four months.

Lev stared at you with wide eyes, out of breath. He couldn’t stop thinking about you since that day, and every day since, he hated himself from losing you.

Lev was in the middle of a photoshoot when he saw his copy of The Secret History. Admittedly, Lev only read the book because he saw you reading it at the coffee house before he introduced himself. He had noticed the way your eyes never wavered from the page, completely mesmerized by the ink of the page.

So, later that night, Lev bought a copy and started reading it. He finished it two days later, and when he went to get coffee the next day, he only hoped you were still reading it.

The coffee house wasn’t the first place Lev had seen you. It was like fate was trying it’s very best to push you two together. First, Lev had seen you run across the street while he was in his car. Then, he saw you in the park outside his agency.

That day at the coffee house, Lev had planned to officially ask you on a date. He was sick of pushing fate out of the way. Damn his job, he just wanted a nice evening with you.

Not being able to see you or even text you over the last four months had killed Lev. He had grown attached, and though his friends always teased him about it, he had never felt this way about anyone before.

You gripped the door harder, blinking a few times, trying to wake up in case you were sleeping.

“Y/n...” Lev whispered.

You noticed the crinkles in his suit, and the way his usually parted hair was now a mess.

“Lev? What are you doing here?”

Lev blanked. He had planned to pour his heart out to you, but now that he stood here, he felt stupid. You were the one who had cut it off, whatever it was you two had. You were the one who walked away, and it looked like you didn’t regret it.

Oh how wrong Lev was. Because you did regret it.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Lev straighten himself out.

“Y/n, I... I can’t. I tried really hard to forget about you. I tired so hard to just move on, but I couldn’t. I like you, y/n. Too much. Way too much. It’s killing me inside and I don’t know why I feel like this.”

You stared at Lev with wide eyes. Was he... serious? Lev liked you? No. That can’t be.

You pursed your lips, but when you eyes his clenched fists, your eyes softened.

Letting go of the door, you stood straight, hugging yourself.

“If I gave you a chance, would you take it? And not just to try it out, I mean really take it? I don’t do short infatuations, Lev. I’ve had bad luck at relationships, and I need to know that you’re all in.”

Lev nodded, his eyes desperate. “We haven’t even known each other for long, but it kills me to not have you in my life. I know my lifestyle is hard, but I promise I’ll try to make it work. I promise I’ll put you before everything else.” Lev took a few steps closer to you. “I’m all in.”

You smiled at the man, and opened your door wider.

The library could wait.

BYE I DONT LIKE THIS.

what are the chances of me taking this down tomorrow and rewriting it?

i’d say 98%

this is such soft hurt/comfort. hmmm. real hardcore angst coming soon! this is too soft for me

LOOK AT THIS PIC OF LEV THO. IM SORRY IDK THE ARTIST, ALL CREDIT TO THEM THO.

@elektrosonix @h-grangerstudies @snoozless

oh my pls just step on me

daddyjackfrost © 2021 | all content belongs to me, do not modify

[silveanna]

Nct 2020 + You as Class E

Y/N:

-Had bad records in your previous school and now you’re here

-plays around with ChenJi

-gives helpful advices to everyone

-likes to break the rules

-doesn’t get involve to gang fights cuz Taeyong did not allow you to

-you’re their precious little flower

-the boys have a lot of respect for you

-started a food fight once and got suspended

-“im like earth, already in a state of global warming”

Taeyong:

-the president

-always late

-is quiet and always frowning

-looks like he might suddenly punch someone

-but when you get to know him he’s actually

a nice person

-“I repeat, once you got in Class E, you’ll graduate as a student of Class E”

Kun:

-Class A banned you guys inside the cafeteria

-most of you are too lazy to cook your own food

-so Kun had to use his skills and cooks lunch everyday for his dear classmates

-the most decent

-always present

-the one who just watches when there’s a fight

-“I’m not giving you guys lunch for free, now pay up”

Taeil:

-looks innocent but not really

-always asleep

-would even sometimes sleeps on the floor and use his bag as a pillow

-easily catches up on the lessons/discussions

-“what’s our next class? homeroom? ok bye”

Johnny:

-the chill kid

-but when he gets angry u better run for your life bro

-the tallest so he sits at the very back of the room

-vibes with everyone

-damage to school properties is the main reason why he’s in the fam

-⚠️Don’t laugh AT him⚠️

-“not my problem”

Yuta:

-the arrogant one

-probably imagines beating the shit out of someone in his mind sometimes

-superior at sports

-paints his nails

-“I’m tired of seeing the same faces everyday”

Doyoung:

-The Vice President

-also a decent one

-is tired of taking care problematic dudes everyday

-doesn’t look like it but he’s a nerd

-is seatmates with Taeyong

-Cold af

-“shut up I’m trying to study here”

Ten:

-one of the moodmakers

-mocks his teachers

-always rest his foot on top of his table

-brings his pet cats to school

-puts big ass rocks inside his classmates bags

-“I just downloaded tiktok, follow me guys:)”

Jaehyun:

-the escort (duh)

-doesn’t give a fuck

-always a pageant candidate

-records the fights for ✨memories✨

-varsity player

-“can I go home now?”

Winwin:

-a very nice person

-became friends with you on the first day

-eats a lot

-shares his food with you

-“I only gave Y/N food! Why are you guys eating too?!!”

Jungwoo:

-a literal softie

-gets along with everyone

-the first one to be thrown in Class E

-others call him Zeus

-hides his classmates bag

-“I believe in hate at first sight”

Lucas:

-Chick boy

-also eats a lot

-but doesn’t like sharing his food

-no one wants to be smacked with that big ass hand

-steals pens

-“if you’re more handsome than me then she’ll probably choose you. Better luck next time bro”

Mark:

-got low grades and now he’s stuck with a bunch of intimidating guys who teases him everyday

-but he loves them

-is starting to adapt

-brings his guitar to school

-“wanna listen to some music?”

Xiaojun:

-plays games with yangyang at free time

-SMART

-goes with the flow

-jams with mark

-helps you with your math class

-“just tell me if you need help”

Hendery:

-looks normal but isn’t

-also a mood maker

-almost sets the school on 🔥

-lives at the same neighborhood with you, so he walks home with you sometimes

-“life is so hard I just want to be a fly”

Renjun:

-small but terrible

-likes astronomy

-would not hesitate to choke someone

-likes to tease others but when he’s the one being teased he gets angry

-doodles whenever he’s bored

-debates about the existence of aliens

-“i don’t want to live on this earth”

Jeno:

-also a varsity player

-the one who suddenly throws crumpled papers

-bad fingered his teacher

-plays with Ten’s Cats

-“If you want to rock, you gotta break the rules man“

Haechan:

-cHaOtic

-most likely to start a fight lol

-was caught stealing and now he’s in the family

-helps everyone cheat on their exams

-the only one who cleans the room

-“don’t worry I got you”

Jaemin:

-doesn’t like being called “nana”

-the super quiet one

-stays at the very corner of the room

-sleeps on the floor with taeil

-number one complainer

-“close the curtains, it’s too bright here”

Yangyang:

-the prankster

-drag racer

-makes fun of his hyungs 24/7 with haechan

-would step in a fight even though he doesn’t stand a chance at all

-just to protect his friends

-“Haechan! What’s the answer to number five test B?”

Shotaro:

-a cutie

-but a freaking gremlin like everyone else

-learns new tiktok dances with ten

-this boy may look innocent but in reality he beat up 5 grown ass men alone

-“^_^”

Sungchan:

-Class A’s president has a huge crush on him

-so he’s the only one allowed inside the cafeteria

-pretty chill

-looks up to Taeyong

-Hacker

-“I’m going to the cafeteria, does anyone want some snacks?”

Chenle:

-RICH KID

-🐬🐬🐬

-loud asf

-sings randomly

-“I kissed Class A’s president that’s why I’m here”

Jisung:

-sticks around with you all the time

-cuz he sees you as his older sibling

-adored by everyone

-got transferred in the wrong class but he likes it here

-“I baked cookies want one?”

Bonus:

It was a Normal day at NCTY High, you and sungchan were headed back to the classroom after being sent to detention. You bumped into a group of guys from Class D, half of them were smirking, the others glared at you and sungchan. It was strange to see them in a abandoned building since Class E is the only class who uses the building.

You and sungchan exchanged looks and shrugged.

Everyone was chaotic as always, you sat in your usual spot and chit chatted with the guys until Chenle started screaming and there’s fire crackers blasting everywhere making everyone left their seat and gathered at the very corner of the room.

Kun immediately opened the windows to let out the smoke, Doyoung and Taeil tries to calm everyone down but FAILS.

“WAAAHHH!!! We’re being attacked by terrorist!” Chenle screamed and hugged you, Jisung did the same.

“JOHNNY YOU’RE BIG ENOUGH! SHIELD US!”

“FUCK YOU!”

“WHERE’S XIAOJUN?!”

“I DON’T KNOW! MAYBE HE’S DEAD!”

“I CAN’T FIND MY CATS!”

You counted them all and noticed there was one missing aside from Xiaojun, PRESIDENT!

You looked around and saw Taeyong in his spot, idiot was still peacefully sleeping. “How could he even— Argh!” You reached for a book near you and threw it at Taeyong’s head. “WAKE UP YOU DOOFUS!”

Eventually he woked up and yawns, Taeyong cursed under his breath after he realized the situation. He came to you and also tried to calm the others down, Haechan hugged him from the back tightly “Pres! We’re all gonna DIEEE”

“Shut up! Doyoung! Get your ass over here!”

“Get a fire extinguisher! Quick!” He commanded.

“I can’t! The fire crackers are blocking our only exit, and I can’t jump off the window we’re on 4th floor” Doyoung explained, Taeyong couldn’t think and do anything but to face palm himself.

A cold breeze blows your skirt up midway, everyone stopped panicking and there was a figure at the door. It was Xiaojun, he was holding a fire extinguisher. Face almost covered with bruises Did Someone beat him up?. “Class D.. It was Class D!”

Knew it.

[lazuliquetzal]

a miscellaneous collection of jokes cut from AA Batteries

none of these snippets are meaty enough to warrant their own post, so i'll just group them all here!

this mostly scenes and jokes that don't really go anywhere.

1. The Joke I've Been Trying To Shove In Since Chapter 3

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all week, and I’ve heard Kuramochi-senpai claim that Eijun has a girlfriend,” Akira snaps.

2. The Deleted Introspective Chicken Monologue

The first time Akira saw Narumiya Mei pitch, way back in the beginning of the summer, he was inexplicably reminded of their neighbor’s chicken coop.

“What?” Haruichi asked, when Akira voiced his observation.

“Loud,” Akira had explained. “And kind of terrifying?”

“You’re talking about chickens, right? The things that lay eggs and cluck around all day?”

“Obviously, you’ve never been chased by a flock of angry chickens.”

Kominato Haruichi, born and raised in the suburbs of Kanagawa Prefecture, didn’t seem to fully appreciate the comparison, but at least he tried to.

“In that case,” he’d said, struggling to grasp the metaphor, “Eijun is kind of like a flock of chickens too, right?”

“No, it’s —” Akira huffed. “Chickens don’t care. All they do is eat and poop. There’s nothing but violence going on in their heads. That’s what he reminds me of.”

“That’s kind of a strong opinion to have on a person you’ve never met,” Haruichi said.

“Oh, I don’t know what he’s like as a person,” Akira said with a shrug. “But as a player, he seems rather bloodthirsty.”

Akira had never caught for a pitcher like that. Eijun was Eijun, and Furuya was Furuya, and Nori-senpai and Tanba-senpai were themselves. But Naruimiya Mei seemed like another beast entirely — ambitious and fierce and proud, complete with the skill to back it up. He’d asked Miyuki-senpai about it later, and even though he’d barely answered, he’d gotten enough information to confirm his suspicions.

But it wasn’t until weeks later, after everything, that he’d been able to truly appreciate the danger of Narumiya Mei.

They were sitting in the stands, just after beating Sensen Academy, watching Inajitsu play Sakurazawa. Eijun had been sitting next to him, and they’d watched the game with wide eyes.

“I want to catch that knuckleball,” Akira said, upon seeing Sakurazawa’s ace.

“Of course you do,” Eijun laughed. He elbowed him in the side. “I bet you’d have been a knuckleballer if you were a pitcher. He even has the same name as you.”

“Maybe,” Akira shrugged. He lowered his voice so that the senpai couldn’t overhear. “I know they want revenge, but I’m kind of rooting for Sakurazawa.”

“Public school representation,” Eijun agreed.

But it wasn’t to be. Slowly, steadily, Inashiro Industrial had worn away at the ground under Sakurazawa’s feet. It was the first time Akira had witnessed such offensive defense.

It wasn’t like Eijun, spirited and fearless. Narumiya Mei’s pitching was insidiously perfect, a wall that couldn’t be overcome, a light so bright that it scared you away into the shadows. He was loud, like Eijun, and he was tricky, like Eijun, but Narumiya Mei just felt different.

Like he wasn’t looking at you. Like he had bigger giants to slay.

Inajitsu won, and Seidou’s baseball team boarded their bus and headed back to campus, and Akira took a nap.

Later, that same day, he would fight with his brother. He wasn’t thinking of Narumiya, then, but he would think of him later.

Eijun’s stronger than that, he told himself, after letting Miyuki Kazuya run out and chase down Eijun. He obviously doesn’t need me. He won’t break. Not for baseball.

But Narumiya Mei was an opponent he’d never faced before. Fierce, violent, and out for blood. Like a chicken, as stupid as that sounded.

Sometimes, it’s the stupid things that you have to look out for.

3. The Akagi Team Group Chat

“Where’s my phone? I have to tell everyone that we won.”

“Oh, use mine,” Eijun says, and he holds out his phone. “That way Wakana won’t get mad at me for not checking in.”

Akira rolls his eyes, but unlocks Eijun’s phone anyway and opens up the Akagi group chat.

!!!!! GUYS WE WNON A GAME IM LOSING MY MIND

eyyyyyy noice

Congrats, Eijun!

aki is that you? tell your brother to stop being a coward and respond to my messages

wtf wakana how did you know

ei only messages first when he finishes a manga and wants seiichi to write fanfic for it

Eijun rips his phone out of Akira’s hands.

I DO NOT????/?

hi ei, stop being a coward and respond to my messages

4. Teenagers are Idiots

Akira hovers in the first-years’ conversation, occasionally chiming in. It’s not until they’re halfway to the parking lot that reality finally hits.

“Holy crap!” Akira exclaims, nearly walking into a pole. Luckily, Kanemaru catches him by his windbreaker before he can bruise his face.

“You good?” He asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“We just played baseball,” Akira says, instead of answering the question.

“Why are you like this?”

“We just played baseball!” Akira repeats, still disbelieving. He swivels around and grabs Eijun’s sleeve. “Ei, slap me!”

Eijun doesn’t hesitate. He slaps him so hard that Akira almost falls over.

“Ow! That hurt!”

Toujou snickers while Kanemaru grimaces.

“What did you think would happen?”

“I don’t know?” Akira says. “Oh my god, it’s been so long since I’ve played in a real game! I think I’m high on adrenaline!”

Kanemaru looks at him incredulously. “Who are you?”

“Oh, no,” Eijun says, groaning. “I forgot about this part. Akira, you’re going to crash so hard later.”

Akira laughs. “Pfft, this isn’t middle school anymore, I’m fine! We just shut down Teitou High! I’m invincible!”

_

The next thing he remembers is Eijun shaking him awake.

“Go away,” Akira grumbles. “Leave me alone to die.”

5. EijunxTire OTP

“Your fielding sucks too, dumbass,” Miyuki reminds him. “And take that thing off. This is a warm-up jog, you’re going to strain yourself.”

“No need!” Eijun announces. “During my banishment, I spent several weeks in the company of my beloved tire! We have a bond that goes beyond that of an athlete and his training tool! This is nothing!”

“Sawamura!” Coach Kataoka yells from across the field. “This is a warm-up! Take the tire off!”

Eijun stiffens. “Yes, boss!” He yells back, and he stops to untie the tire.

[asteriismos]

hey jude - richie tozier

warning(s) : eighteen! richie tozier, rough smut, degrading terms like slut and bitch, choking, a daddy kink, oral ( male recieving )

authors note : im not saying listen to ‘da ya think im sexy?’ by rod stewart while listening to this but thats exactly what im saying

words : 3.8k

request :

Hey , I was wondering if you could do a smut with 2017 Richie being In an alt couple , with a girl who’s brittish with degrading , rough smut , choking and the almighty daddy kink ❤️

ever since you moved to derry, things have been different for richie. 

the first time you stepped into his math classroom after winter break, teacher claiming that you were the new transfer student, he couldn’t get his mind off of you. you were gorgeous, not like anyone else in the small little town of derry that he’s been living in all his life. if there were anyone there that was half as cool as you seemed, richie would be interested in them. but there wasn’t. you were the breath of fresh air in his life that he didn’t know he needed, and you had only been in the classroom for 3 minutes.

then you spoke. and richie was even more interested in you. 

you had an accent, clearly from the uk, which was explained while you talked a little bit in front of the class as the teacher awkwardly tried to get you to tell them about yourself. your dad was a businessman who was seeing some type of potential in bangor, and fell in love with derry when he drove through it a few months ago. 

now you were here, finishing up your senior year here and going to college in the states. you seemed a little bitter about that to richie, but who was he to judge. he really didn’t like derry himself, he was glad that you only had to stay here for half a year instead of eighteen fucking years. 

the rest of the day he thought of you, though his thoughts skewed a little bit towards lunch, worried about the history pop quiz that people were talking about. history was his eighth period, which led to much anxiety about the end of the day. but after school ended, richie was going to meet up with the rest of the losers outside of the school near the entrance so that they could all go get hot chocolate at stan’s place. early january in derry was so cold that it was almost impossible not to drink a warm beverage every single day. 

he sat outside on the hoods of stanley’s car lighting a cigarette when he looked up, seeing you walking over to the car right beside beverly. bevvie said that she met you in gym class and you two apparently hit it off. 

and the rest was history. you became an official unofficial member of the losers club. bev adored you, the two of you became some kind of punk rock loving duo, and that’s all it took for you to get introduced to the rest of the group.

as said before, it was customary for the entire losers club to go to someones house after school ended and to get some hot drink. winter was soon coming to an end, derry launching further into the cusp of spring every day. the snow was beginning to melt on the ground, trees starting to produce their green leaves, and the sun was shining more and more each day.

“richie, can you come and help with the coffee? jesus, it’s your house!” eddie yelled from the kitchen of the tozier residence. richie was seated on the couch next to you, spewing some nonsense about this girl in your shared math class together and how she apparently bit down on this football players dick the other day trying to give him head.

you laughed, leaning into the couch enough to where the fluffy built in cusions almost enveloped you. “you’re such a liar, tozier,” you said through your laughs, hitting him lightly on the side of the head. richie shook his head, stifling out a chuckle of his own. in his own awful posh british voice impression, he exclaimed, “you are SUCH a liar, tozier.”

“fuck off,” you said to him. “go help eddie.” you reached over and pushed him off the couch, watching richie as he walked into the kitchen out of earshot.

you sat at the couch, a smile still on your face thinking about the trashmouth. you hadn’t told anyone about your impending interest in richie for fear of them telling him because this group was not good at keeping secrets from each other at all. the only person that you vaguely told was beverly, saying that you had an interest in someone in your math class. that left like 10 boys, including richie, in the mix. but the more you hung out with the group, the more you floated towards richie tozier. it wasn’t that hard to tell whom you had feelings for when you two were together.

beverly was starting to notice your feelings for richie and you knew it. 

“so y/n,” beverly asked from across the room. you turned to face her, snapping out of your thoughts about richie. “what are the guys like where you’re from?”

stanley gave beverly a look, laughing a little bit to himself at the question. bill put his face into the palm of his hands and looked at you, interested in your answer. you shrugged your shoulders, looking up to the left in thought. “guys are the same, I guess?”

beverly hummed to herself and gave you that devious little smirk of hers, “what about sex? what are they like?” the other guys laughed a little bit, shaking their heads while still listening for what you had to say. you shook your head, deciding that you weren’t going to answer the question. but that wasn’t enough for beverly, she raised her hands up in the air and slapped her thighs to get your attention again. “come on, y/n! we all wanna know what the boys get up to in england.”

you laughed at your friend. “okay, okay,” you said in defeat, putting your hands up in a ‘I surrender’ motion. “i don’t know. they’re okay i guess. but they’re so caring, they keep asking me if I'm okay, you know? it’s like ‘yes I am now stop asking’.” you laughed to yourself, thinking back to the boys that you’ve been with that all do that. they talk the big talk, then when it comes to actually fucking them, they’re afraid to do anything to do you. they go slow and sensual when sometimes you want it hard and rough. it was exhausting and you were so tired of it. you were also so tired of riding guys to try and get an ounce of the fast rhythm that you wanted. 

richie and eddie walked back into the room right as beverly was about to ask another question, eddie going on and on about how richie wasn’t helpful at all and just watched as eds did all the work. you laughed at your two friends and grabbed the coffee mug richie had gotten for you and made room for him on the couch beside you again. he sat down and wrapped his arm loosely around your shoulder, making you smile into your mug as you took a sip. you leaned into his side, savoring the feeling of being in his arms. 

since it was senior year, the losers were trying to go to as many parties as they could. courtesy of bill being on the baseball team, he got a free ride to all of the good ones and invited all of you guys along. you were getting ready for the party in your room, wearing a short black skirt and some tank top to compensate for the heat that would be at the party. 

richie was planning on picking you up, but you told him he could just come inside because your parents weren’t around to yell at you for having a guy in the house. they were really strict about that sort of thing, which pissed you off because a majority of your new friend group was guys. 

a soft knock on your door was heard and you opened it, smiling at richie who stood idly in the hallway. he looked out of place in your home dressed in his dark blue jeans and black smiths t shirt against the yellow wallpaper of your home. “come in, I'm almost done,” you said to him, beckoning him into your room and pointing to the chair he could sit on next to your desk. 

richie took a look at you when you turned away from him, watching your hair that bounced with every step you took and how the edge of your skirt rode up just a little bit with the sway of your hips. realizing that he was definitely staring more than he should, richie shook his head to himself and made his way to the chair to sit. he watched as you looked at the jewelry that was hanging up on a storage rack. you pulled out a gold chain necklace and gave him a look, “could you help me with this?”

he cleared his throat, nodding in response and walking over. he stood behind you, at least a half a head taller than you. richie grabbed the two ends of your necklace, and with his nimble fingers he easily latched it on, watching it fall perfectly on your skin that glowed in the sunlight that shined through your window. you gave him a smile, which he could see from the mirror in front of you. richie looked at you in the mirror and sighed to himself, for some reason feeling jealous of anyone seeing you in such a short skirt. what if there was another guy there that caught your attention? what if you liked the other guy so much that you let him feel up your skirt or even worse, let him fuck you? 

“are you sure you want to wear that?” richie blurted out before even registering it. you gave him a look in the mirror, eyes landing on his own that were staring at you already. 

you gave a slight laugh, though suddenly felt a little strange feeling in your stomach. “what? are you my dad now or something?” you turned around to face him, your faces only inches apart from each other. you could smell his cologne along with the faint smell of cigarette smoke that you always felt yourself getting lost in when you were in class with him. he was looking down at you with dark eyes that made you clench your thighs together. richie walked forward, prompting you to walk backwards until you were pressed against your dresser. the cold surface made you shiver even through your clothing.

richie was kissing you. 

richie was kissing you. 

richie was kissing you.

with his hands placed firmly on the curve of your waist, body pressing against your own, richie kissed you with an unknown desire he didn’t realize that he had until seeing you in that pretty little skirt of yours. it was an almost animalistic urge and desire to show you that you were his, that he wanted you more than anything in this world. 

your lips moved against his own, eyes fluttering shut after the initial shock wore off. his tongue slipped into your mouth with ease and explored it, hands squeezing your sides with his warm hands. you moaned a little in his mouth, trying to keep up with the pace that was hard and rough. your hands flew to his face right below his glasses, fingers splaying along his soft cheekbones that made him shiver. you never thought that this moment would ever be happening, and the more his hips pressed onto your own, you hoped that even your wildest fantasies about richie tozier would be coming true. 

he grabbed you and turned you around so you were walking backwards to the edge of your bed, and with one languid push you were falling back onto your sheets. you pulled away from the kiss with richie to push yourself backwards all the way onto the bed, pulling him by his shoulders back on top of you and in between your legs, which you wrapped around his waist. richie kissed down your neck, biting a large hickey right in the crook of your neck where your shoulder and neck met. your fingers laced themselves into his black curly hair, reveling in how soft it felt. 

“richie,” you moaned out softly with his hips pushing against your own. you could feel the growing hard on of his against your inner thigh, making you even more wet at the thought of him fucking you with it. “I need you so bad.” you said in a soft tone.

richie came up to meet your gaze, giving you a devilish smirk. “I think you need to beg for it a little better, princess.” his hands went under your tank top, cupping your breasts with each of his hands. his fingers came and pinched your nipples, making you arch your back up into his touch. you needed more, you needed so much more from richie right now. “and don’t call me richie, call me daddy.” 

you threw your head back into the pillows, huffing a little bit while your cheeks burned red with embarrassment. “please daddy, fuck me with your cock,” you whined out, giving him an innocent look while batting your eyelashes at him. richie shook his head, making you frown a little bit at him. what else could he possibly want you to say? richie pushed himself off of you, standing at the edge of the bed while you still laid down, a little bit too clothed for his liking. 

“get undressed,” richie ordered. “then get on your knees.” you did what he asked, standing up from the bed, pulling off your tank top and pushing your skirt down. from there you unclipped your bra and slipped your panties down, throwing your discarded clothes elsewhere in your room. the look that richie was giving you was enough to make you moan out quietly, heat getting wetter and wetter with each passing second. you keeled down to your knees in front of him, watching as he worked to take off his belt and push his pants down. “I think you need to prove how much you want daddy’s cock,” he said to you. 

his hands reached to push down his boxers, taking himself into his hands and giving a few good pumps. you waited there for him, mouth open with your tongue laying out right for him to place his dick onto it. soon enough he was pushing into your mouth, making you sputter a small bit around his cock, hollowing out as much as you could. he was thick and long, and you didn’t know if you could even take him all in your mouth. the thought of it being thrust in and out with no remorse made you feel wild. 

you looked up at him, dick in your mouth, waiting for him to make a move. richie tutted, “such a good little slut aren't you? so ready to suck on my cock.” you shivered at the degrading, feeling that fire pool into your abdomen. his hands wrapped into your hair making a makeshift ponytail and pulling you off of his cock, then pushing it back into your mouth. he continued this motion, getting a little faster. you had to breath through your nose, spit drooling down out of your lips and down your chin. 

richie groaned from above you, bottom lip in between his white teeth. you reached to grab the back of his thighs to steady yourself while he used your mouth mercilessly. you gag around him, dick pulling out to give you a moment to breathe. while you breathe, your hands come to pump his cock that was slick with your spit. he didn’t waste another second pushing in, leading you by only your hair. your eyes are starting to water while you try and swallow around him. 

with one last thrust and push all the way to the back of your throat, richie pulls you off of him and says, “now what do you say?” it takes you a moment to find your words. your throat feels raw and fucked out and you don’t trust your voice but you say, “thank you daddy. thank you for letting me taste your cock.” 

“good girl, such a good girl,” richie praises, reaching to pull you up to your feet. your knees feel raw from kneeling before him, but instead of feeling hurt by it you just feel more aroused, anticipating what he would make you do next. “lay on the bed princess, legs spread out for me like a good bitch.”

you nodded your head, whining a little bit from the loss of contact from him, knowing that you would get it soon though. in between your thighs ached at the thought of him going to be inside you, stretching you out and fucking into you until you were a ruined mess. the eye makeup that you had put on for the party was slightly smeared already from the tears welled up in your eyes as he fucked your mouth. he didn’t fit all the way in your mouth . . . you wondered if he would even fit inside of your aching pussy. 

you laid down at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs out to show yourself to him as much as you could. richie smiled at you, a real genuine smile while his eyes raked over your body. you were so wet, he could easily see how much you wanted him, how much you needed him. richie put his hands on your thighs, thumbs running up and down your inner thighs purposely neglecting the place you needed him most. you watched him with needy eyes, breath hitching in your throat once two fingers finally slid along your slicked folds. his fingers caught your arousal, instantly getting wet enough to push into you. they stretched you out, quickening the pace while his other hand kept your hips from squirming around. 

he pulled his fingers out and pushed them into his mouth, moaning at the taste. you tasted so good that richie thought he was going to die right then and there. he pushed off his t shirt and settled in between your legs, letting his hands come right up to your hips. “now take daddy’s cock like the good slut you are, okay princess?” he said to you, giving you no time to answer when he pushed into you with no warnings. there was a little restraint from you around him, he was so big that it took him a moment to bottom out. you took every single inch of him, eyes closing and head throwing back onto the pillow. 

“you’re so big daddy,” you moaned out, hearing him groan your name after you said it. your eyes were still closed so you didn’t see his hand come and reach around your throat until you felt his long fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze. your clit throbbed at the feeling, loving the feeling of his hand around your throat while he pushed slowly in and out. “fuck me daddy, please, I need you so bad daddy,” you begged him, needing something more to push you to finish. 

“well, since you asked so nicely,” richie said to you, pushing down on your throat and fucking into you nice and hard. your tits bounced with every harsh thrust, your hands gripped the sheets beside you while you took every single rut of his hips. you were so desperate and wet for him that the sound that was made every time he pushed in and out was sinful and you loved every second of it. 

he fucked you into the mattress so hard that you were moaning and screaming, feeling hotter and hotter as he took you to that brink. “I think I'm close daddy please let me cum,” you begged him, eyes opening to meet his own that were looking intensely along your body. he gave you a serious smile and nodded his head, “you can cum then baby, let it out, since you asked so nicely.” and that’s all it took for you to clench around him, feeling your whole body spasm. your legs were begging you to close but you couldn’t, because richie’s hips were in the way, keeping you spread out. 

richie still hadn’t came yet, and you could see the determined look on his face while he picked up the pace, harsh and rough ruts against your hips left you moaning again. his hand clenched around your throat and you breathed out shakily as best as you could, his other hand pushed your leg up. this exposed a new angle and made him push even deeper into you. his thick cock stretched you out more and more with every thrust, your aching pussy so sensitive from your first orgasm. the base of his cock pressed against your clit and you knew you were going to cum again. 

right as his thrusts started to get more erratic and out of rhythm from his previous ones, you were cumming and clenching again, making him spill inside you with a moan of your name. “you took my cock so well,” richie muttered out, groaning while his hot spurts stayed inside you, only a few drops spilling out while he pulled out of you. his hand left your throat and he left you, coming back into your line of vision with a towel in hand. richie wiped away all the cum he could that was slick in between your thighs, mixing with the sweat and your own arousal.  each of you were breathing so heavily, it was as if neither of you had decided to breath during that entire time. 

too enticed by the idea of fucking each other. 

he grabbed your panties and tank top, giving you them and helping you get into them. he pulled up his boxers and gave you a look, wondering if you wanted him to stay or not. you looked up at him and grabbed his arm, not letting him leave your room for the time being. 

“if you’re going to fuck me that hard, you need to give me cuddles afterwards.” you giggled, making room for him to lay beside you. you cuddled into his side, pulling the covers over each of you. 

“I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to get into the complicated stuff,” richie said. 

you cocked your head to the side. “the complicated stuff?”

“yeah. like the fact that I have feelings for you. a lot of them.”

you smiled, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. “then I'll spare you the explanation, yeah? I like you too, richie. a lot.” 

you liked him too. richie felt his heart start to beat more rapidly inside of his chest. he turned and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head, humming contently.

[winterromanov]

Maybe a college Bucky one where he’s being playing games out of town, and trying to study for exams and he’s just so tired but trying to keep going and reader makes him nap and relax and it’s just very Soft ☺️

pairing: bucky x reader (set in the same universe as this fic)

Trying to play football and also be a competent college student is an Incredibly Difficult Feat. You know this, because watching Bucky vault himself from away games to home games to mid terms to finals is about the most exhausting thing you’ve ever seen. If he’s not studying he’s at practice, and if he’s not playing he’s in an exam. It’s like watching a manic, sleep-deprived whirlwind, living almost entirely off coffee and takeout noodles.

He’s not taking care of himself. He’s pushing and pushing and pushing, trying not to let anybody down--as if he could ever do that.

“You don’t have anything to prove,” you say, as he crashes face-down on the bed in your dorm, the night before he leaves to play a game at Harvard and minutes after his Cold War history deadline. You’ve not seen him eat anything the last twenty-four hours. “Look--you won the last game. Steve said you could sit this one out.”

A vague mumbling comes from your bed. His face is smothered by the pillow and he’s too exhausted to even turn over, so you poke his ass with your foot. His hand reaches out, reflexes still ridiculously quick, pulling you onto the bed with him.

“Sorry, love,” you smirk, curling as close to him as your tiny mattress will allow. His arm pulls you close to his waist, palm splayed across your back. His heartbeat is unrelenting beneath his shirt, thudding between you. “Didn’t quite hear that one.”

His head shifts so you’re basically nose-to-nose, his grin sleepy and delirious. He’s gonna pass out any second. You’ve seen it many, many times before in the last hectic few weeks--you’re probably gonna see it a few more. “I’ll be fine after nap. Promise.”

“Don’t you dare fall asleep before I can force a pizza down you,” you warn, and he laughs, deliberately snuggling into the pillow and letting his eyes flicker closed. You can’t resist--running your hand through his hair, along his face. Kiss his forehead. “Goddamn it, Buck. You’re making it very difficult for me to look after you.”

“You being here is enough,” he says softly and before you have chance to reply he’s gone, lost in some dream. You slowly creep out of his embrace, making the pizza for him anyway. By the time you wake up the next day his body is a phantom shape in your bed but the pizza is gone--he’s left you a bright pink post-it note on the plate. Scribbled in his usual scrawl are the words thank you always favourite girl.

-

we won!!! harvard ain’t better than us at FOOTBALL

wish u could have been there

renaissance lit is being a bitch :(( well done you STAR. miss you more every moment so get back quick

should i hijack the bus and speed down the freeway

if you must

consider it done

love you

love you more than anything

-

The next game is thankfully a home one against Yale so you can at least keep an eye on him--you’re just protective, that’s all, not wanting him to burn out in front of you. There’s a lot of gym sessions and library cramming and a grand total of one dinner date at his apartment, where you made a pasta dish with as many vegetables as you could think of in as possible (his mom had sent you a message afterwards with immense gratitude because her son needed his greens, damn it). The following evening you’d wrapped yourself in one of his jerseys and sat in the bleachers alongside an injured Sam--injured and bitter about it--and waited in the lights and the noise for the game to begin.

“Bucky tells me you’re worried about him,” Sam interjects rather suddenly and when you blink back, he shrugs his non-injured shoulder nonchalantly. “Not that I blame you. That dude just doesn’t let up, does he?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shivering a little. The November air is cold, even wearing Bucky’s sweater. “He keeps telling me the season will be over before long, but I...I don’t want that to be a couple of weeks too much for him, you know?”

Sam hums thoughtfully. Around you, the crowd practically fizzes with excitement, covered with facepaint and aggressively chanting team songs at the opposing side. You’d never been to a college football game before you started dating one of the team’s star players, but you have to admit, the atmosphere is kinda addictive. Watching Bucky play is kinda addictive.

“If I know Bucky, and boy do I know him,” Sam eventually replies, squeezing up closer to you as more people gather into your stand. A girl is openly staring at you both--it doesn’t happen that often, but more so at games. People know Bucky, and Sam, so people know you. “He’ll get through this all okay. He always does, (Y/N). I’d been pretty damn surprised if he doesn’t make captain next year.”

You stare at the bright, clean grass of the field, and think of a boy so fucking exhausted from trying to balance his life that he can barely function half the time. Bucky would be an awesome captain. You just don’t want him to become a dead firework because of it.

-

The game ends up being pretty close but Yale just snatch the victory. It doesn’t mean that they can’t win the season, but. Bucky makes his way over to your stand at the end of the game like he always does, taking off his helmet and mouthguard. He also looks extremely deflated, like he always does when they lose.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking his face in your hands. He looks angry at himself. And you know what he’s thinking. I should have pushed harder. “Shit happens. You were still amazing.”

He kisses you over the barrier in a display of affection you were once too shy to give away in public, but you need him as much as he needs you. When you break apart you plant a chaste, gentle peck on his jawline, running your thumb over the shadow. 

“You two make me sick,” Sam interrupts the moment, arms folded. Bucky flips him off while smiling sweetly and you can’t help but laugh. “Honestly. Didn’t ask to be violated, but here we are.”

“Payback for every single time I’ve walked in on you doing unspeakable things with the girl from the top floor on our kitchen counter.” Bucky snaps back teasingly. You like watching the banter unfold between the two of them. You’d be worried if Bucky and Sam weren’t taking the piss at every given opportunity.

Sam gestures pointedly at his injured right shoulder. “I cannot believe you’d treat a fallen comrade like that. I’m disgusted.”

“And so was I when I saw the state of the kitchen counter.” Bucky gives you one last kiss, clutching your hand. “See you after I hit the showers, yeah?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Your promise him, and his eyes glow just a little brighter.

-

When Bucky facetimes you from Brown the very next week, he looks like he hasn’t slept for at least three days. His Ancient Chinese history exam is literally a day after he arrives back from the trip and he’s frantically cramming in his hotel room in Rhode Island, while also trying not to fuck up the team’s chances of winning the season.

“Just one more game after this,” his grainy voice says on the other end of the video feed, head lolling against the headboard of his Holiday Inn bed. You wish he was in your bed. God, you wish he was in your bed. “And the season is over and I don’t have to be away from you ever again.”

“I don’t think your mom would like it if I stole you away for Thanksgiving.” You joke, tongue poking between your teeth. His lips curve, half a laugh escaping from his chest.

“That’s why she personally invited you to stay with us for the holidays. She’s worried you might sneak in there first and drag me to Virginia. She already knows I’d go wherever you go.”

Your smile is kinda wistful. “Except when you go to Rhode Island.”

“Except when I go to Rhode Island.” He repeats, sighing dramatically. He rubs one of his tired eyes. “Ugh. Who thought coinciding pre-Thanksgiving exams and football season was a good idea, huh?”

“I have no idea, but I’m prepared to have words with them.” You tilt your head. “Don’t work too hard, yeah? It’s one exam. It’ll all be okay in the end.”

“I know, I know.”

You want to keep talking, on and on until the early hours like you do sometimes, because time is apparently not real when you and Bucky are on the phone together. But he needs sleep, and you need sleep, and occasionally you’ll do things for the greater good. “Good luck for tomorrow. Brown won’t know what’s hit ‘em.”

“They better not,” he jokes, “Will you be live-streaming the game?”

As if you wouldn’t. You can’t pretend that you always know what’s going on or any of the rules, but you always try to watch him if you can. He’d do the same for you, over and over and over. “Already got the tab open on my laptop and everything.”

Bucky’s grin is near effervescent, even through your patchy wifi connection. “I love you more than anything, you know that?”

“I may have had an inkling.”

-

hello y/n 

HELLLOOOOO

u know brown are the best losers because they lose and give you TEQUILA

omg are you drunk

never been DRUNK IN MY LIFE!!!! but im at this cool party and stEv e has found a girl and i miss u

i miss u so much . and like i just do generally 

whenever ur not ar oUnd 

oh sweet boy. you are very drunk.

im serious though

sometimes i think about how much i love you and it scares me

because then i th ink what it would be like if you wreent there 

and that makes me so fucking sad i cant breathe

y/n

y/n ???????????????

hellooo 

have u gone to bed

no, just messaging steve to make sure he gets you back safe. im not going anywhere. just please please look after yourself. love you always

-

“I’m sorry about those messages I sent you last night.”

You grab him in the tightest hug possible, his hold all still hanging off his arm, rain spattering down from dark clouds outside his apartment block. You hold him for at least ten years, you reckon, because the thought of him being so fucking sad he can’t breathe makes you so fucking sad you can’t breathe.

“You’re a terrible drunk who says things that make me emotional.” You laugh tearfully into his sweater and he grips you even harder, if possible. The shards of glass jabbed between your ribs start to dissolve as you inhale every single part of him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I know.”

-

His last game is the day of your renaissance literature exam and for once you’ve been the one not eating and relying on caffeine, anxiety lingering round your jittery bones like an irritating ghost. Your interactions with Bucky are a battle between you wishing him aggressive luck for what could be the winning game while he equally aggressively says your exam will go fine, they always go fine, it’s an easy A for sure. 

Your exam isn’t until the afternoon so you spend the morning pacing about your bedroom looking at a sporadic mess of post-it notes on your wall declaring quotes and context that you hope will just stick in your brain. When Lizzie from down the hall says there’s a package for you you don’t actually think much of it, too busy to deal with something you’ve probably forgotten you ordered from Amazon--but she makes some comment about how fancy it is, wrapped up in striped paper.

Your name is in print across the front so it doesn’t leave a clue on the sender, but as soon as you rip into it and find a bundle of things nestled between tissue paper, you know instantly. It’s kind of embarrassing you didn’t click sooner. 

Dear Y/N - you’ll ace it, favourite gal. 

You try not to break down in sleep-deprived and emotional tears as you pull out a brand new sweater in your favourite shade of burgundy, a vintage copy of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, three different kind of Hershey’s bars and a dumb little teddy bear wearing your college jersey. He’s sent you a fucking care package. He’s away at Princeton, and he’s sent you a care package, because exams drive you crazy and he’s just... Well, he’s Bucky.

-

i got your present

have i ever mentioned that i love you

i may have had an inkling

-

He doesn’t really leave you a choice, does he? Besides, the game is only at Princeton, and if you catch the train the moment you escape the uneasy warmth of a crowded exam hall you should be able to get there in time. 

You’ve never been to Princeton stadium before, but you grab one of the last tickets available and rush onto their crowded bleachers just before the game is about to begin. The lights are heady, the atmosphere is electric, and you’re about to watch the man you lovingly, completely, unrelentingly call your own play the game he loves almost as much as you at a stadium forty miles from home. 

hey steve, you text his closest friend, hoping he’ll see it, get buck to look at the front of the stairs near block d when you come out

y/n if this is what i think it means he’s going to lose his goddamn mind

:)

When the team runs out you notice the number five on his jersey straight away, a constant fleeting image in your head from the countless games you’ve seen him play. Even from a distance, Steve’s eyes catch your own and his arm starts gesturing violently in your direction, Bucky taking a couple of moments to catch on.

It’s a good job the game isn’t due to start for a few more minutes, because absolutely nothing can stop him from automatically sprinting to your side of the field and kissing you senseless, cameras and crowds be damned.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he says on a dizzy outtake of breath.

“Couldn’t miss the last game of the season, could I?” You gently push his chest, urging him to go back to his team. “And neither can you. Go back to them. I’ll be waiting.”

He steals your lips for one more second, giddy and pumped full of adrenaline. “I really lucked out the day I met you, didn’t I?”

His mouth is hot. Hot. Unmistakable. Real. Always, always real. “Not as lucky as me.”

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[ambwkpopreads]

Jaehyun Oneshot

Hello! Heres a little oneshot ive been working on. Its not edited or anything so Im sorry for anymistakes.

WARNING: Its a bit smutty. A bit angsty, and a but fluffy

 It's one thing being the new girl during senior year of highschool, but it's another when the most attractive, popular guy tries to befriend you. Everyone hated you. No more like all of the girls hated you, making your life living hell.

   For years they have been trying to catch his attention. Going to all of his sports games, cheering him on. Making him lunches, giving him gifts. They were jealous at the fact that all you did was walk into school on your first day and he was looking your way.

   During your first month, the death glares and evil eyes got worse and worse. Were they really that surprised to see a colored gal in their school. It couldn't be- you've seen others. Plenty of others, yet they gave you the same look.

   You met a girl named Max. A smaller Korean girl with really long hair, tied half up and half down.  She was a bit shy but she saw how much you were struggling, she just had to help you. You didn't know what was whispering around school, you just had some bad luck at the new school.

   “I'm Max.” She smiles down at you. You were sitting at a picnic bench in the school's courtyard. It was lunch time, sitting outside was better than being watched in the cafeteria.

   “Um, hi.” You were in awe, this girl. She looks at you with a smile on her face. Not the look of death itself.

   “Okay, I'm not usually like this, but I feel very very bad for you.” She plops down across from you and she pulls her bag off of her shoulders. She unzips it and takes out a brown bag with her name in Korean on it. Must be her lunch. “Like yes, Jung Jaehyung is mighty fine, but honestly to target a girl, especially when she's new.” She is talking to herself as she unpacks her lunch. Some kimbap rolls, and a small container of radish kimchi. Wow. that sounds better then this beef stew and rice the school gave.

   “Wait, wait. Jung Jaehyun? Who? That star player?” You ask her, confused. She sighs and sets her food down, looking back at you.

   “Jung Jaehyun is the school's star player. He is the school's heartthrob. Every girl wants him, every guy wants to be him. Do you see what I'm getting at?” She questions. You nod understanding.

   “Right, but what does that have to do with me?” But she just shakes her head.

   “Yah! If you weren't so oblivious then maybe you wouldn't be struggling so much.” She bursts. Before you could fight back, she continued. “Jaehyun has taken a liking to you. And every girl around here is jealous. Even the ones with boyfriends. One main reason is because you are new, so no girl originally in this school had a chance, and that upsets everyone. It's funny really.” She laughs a bit. But you don't find this funny at all, in fact you're pissed.

   “Are you serious right now? My senior year is going to shit because some pretty boy thinks i'm cute? What shit.” You didn't even want to eat anymore.

   “Just cute?” She gives you a big laugh. “It's funny how oblivious you are. I don't understand how you don't see how many times this man had tried to talk to you. Or tried to get your attention. But you just walk away, not fazed at all. Another reason why every girl here hates you. Because they want to be you.” Her words sound crazy as hell. You have never had anyone ever even think you're cute, and now suddenly the most popular boy likes you. No, you wanted to finish your senior year out with no distractions, and the school hating you didn't help your stress levels.

   “That's just fucking stupid.” You yell, sudden memories clouding your brain.

   It's kind of obvious to what he looked like since his sports pictures were everywhere. You noticed him always looking your way, or smiling. Sometimes even waving. But you never paid any attention. You didn't want to wave back and he was actually waving to someone around you. “You like him too?”

   “If I did I wouldn't be sitting here.” She shrugs. “But I will admit, he is one fine piece of-” Her eyes widen at the end of her sentence. Her whole body freezes up as she looks behind you. Then you suddenly felt a presence behind you. You turn around and see Jaehyun himself standing there.

   “Hi, I noticed you weren't eating, and so I wanted to offer my lunch?” He holds it out. Your eyes widen at the dumplings and the Kimbap next to it. There was also a side of Kimchi and sauce.

   “You've got to be shitting me.” You hear Max mumble behind you.

   “You noticed I wasn't eating. You were watching me?” You look over and see him little friend group that he is always sitting at a table just on the other side of the windows dividing the outside from the in. They all quickly look away when they see you looking.

   “Are you playing some game or something?” You question him, his face was really red, and he didn't know what to say. “Every girl in the school hates me because of you. Can't you target someone else?” You let all your frustrations out on him, all the stress you've been feeling lately.

   “What?” He asks, true confusion running across his face.

   “Like you don't know. I don't know if you like me or something, but just stop. I don't want to date someone like you.” You just couldn't stop. Now that you know the reason and he just came and proved it to you, it just pissed you off. You turn away before he could say anything else.

   It was the next week and Max catches up to you.

   “I still can't believe you told him off like that, I would've at least taken the food.” Max keeps going on. She's been telling you forever it feels like how crazy you are.

   “Look, you can keep going on and on, but I don't want a man who is chased by literally every girl. If I get caught up with him, I'll be just like everyone else. Soon fighting for his attention. I'll pass.”

   “You have a point, but-” There's always a but. “Unlike every other girl around here, he is fighting for your attention.”

   Jaehyun never gave up. He always made you lunch, at some point you just gave up on rejecting it and taking it. But then he would be on your ass about wasting so much food. So then you just stopped getting school lunch and eating his.

   There was a point when he wanted to walk you to class. You obviously didn't want him too, but you can't stop him from walking. You complain about the stares you got, the clear shit talk from everyone around you. He just tells you to ignore them, that he gets them all the time.

   You didn't realize that he also did. You got hate from the girls, and he got hate from the guys. Either pure jealousy, or the fact that they wanted to be him.

   You walked into school one Monday. You wouldn't say you were in a good mood. In fact you were highly irritated. Over the weekend, more rumors were made up. “Jaehyun made a bet.” “Jaehyun just wanted to see if he could snag the new girl.” “He knew her from the past, a long lost love or something.”

   You knew not to believe rumors, but seriously if he just stopped, everything would go away.

   You were so not in the mood to deal with him. When you got into school, you realized the first bell already rang, so the hallways were empty. Not to make any more stress for yourself, you were just going to go to the next one.

   You pull your bag closer to yourself and you walk to the library. When you find a small couch closed off a bit from the rest of the library, you do a little happy dance. You sit down and take a deep breath. It feels like this is the first actual silence you've gotten all weekend.

   You had three months left of this bullshit.

   “YN?” His voice comes out of nowhere, breaking your silence. You actually wanted to scream. You wanted to be upset, but you were actually quite happy he was here.

   You've always wanted to think about how good his hugs would be. How warm he would be. You would be lying if you said you hated when he was around. But you could never admit that. Because as soon as you did, he would leave.

   You need him to leave before you get too attached to the idea of him hanging around.

   He walks around to stand in front of you. Your eyes follow him. He was looking at you with a confused and concerned look.

   “What do you want Jaehyun?” You ask. You tried to sound stern, but you just sounded tired.

   “Something is bothering you, so I'm bothered.” He shrugs. He sets his bag down and sits on the floor across from you. You sighed.

   “Why do you do this?” You ask looking over at him.

   “What am I doing?” He asks.

   “Acting like you care? You're always around? You are making my life so much harder that it already was. How hard is it for you to leave me alone?” You felt yourself start to tear up. You didn't want him to leave, you just wanted baggage to go.

   “I told you to ignore them Yn. They won't go away.” He mumbles, ignoring your questions. Or so you thought. He pulls his legs up to his chest a bit. “When you first came here, when I first saw you, it was like I could see everything clearly again. I know what I wanted.” He sighs. “That didn't come out right.” He puts his legs down. “I've seen how your time here has been, I can't stop these people from saying what they want. But I can try and make you feel better. That's why I've been wanting to make you food, I don't want you eating the shitty lunch. I thought maybe small things like that would make your day better.” He was going on, shocking you. “I won't lie, the fact that you didn't like me, just made me like you even more. Everytime I would walk you to class, you would say little things, either to me or just out loud. I don't know, but I realized that you are different then everyone here. You're like a puzzle I want to put together, ya know.”

   Your eyes were huge in the first sentence. You didn't say anything, so he continued getting more and more nervous, he tried his best to show it. He looks at you in the eyes.

   “All the hate you've been getting, has been getting to me to ya know. I don't want all these stupid rumors to make you think any different of me. I want you to have your own impression. If it makes you feel any better. I haven't had a girlfriend since middle school. To focus on sports.” He mumbles the last part.

   Now, out of all your fantasies, you never thought of a confession like this one. You still couldn't get anything out. Say something!

   The bell rings, telling you to start going to your next class. You quickly grab your bag and leave. Leaving Jaehyun sitting there watching you walk away. He clenches his jaw, realizing half of the words he just said.

   “Fuck, now I've definitly scared her off.”

   He left you alone after that. Which you were happy about for the first couple of days. You got to actually breathe, and get your shit together. He was so distracting, but in a good bad way. You were fighting your own feelings at this point. But everytime you give in, you're left in the dust. You didn't want to feel like everyone else either.

   After a couple of more days, you started to get a bit more sad. Because maybe you walking away that day was the worst mistake you could have made. You shouldn't feel the way you did, you wanted this, you wanted him gone. You hated yourself for getting used to him being around. Then again you did technically reject him. So you shouldnt be sad, you should be glad.

   It Friday now, you were making your way to your locker to grab your things for the weekend. Your mom and dad went on a weekend getaway, so that meant that you had to walk home, also meant you had the whole house to yourself.

A whole week with no Jaehyun, it was strange. You didn't even focus on the stares you got anymore, your mind was filled with him, just like everyone else. You were usually the last in the halls, you hated rushing with the crowd. You start walking down the hallway, towards the front door. Suddenly a door on the left opens and out comes Jaehyun. He's looking down at the floor as he's walking. He looks up noticing someone else in the empty hallway.

   It seems like he was just as shocked as you were to see him. But what did you have to say? Nothing. So you keep walking.

   Jaehyun, once again, watches you walk away. He can feel his eye twitch a bit at the similarity of this situation. He walks up behind you and grabs your hand making you stop walking.

   “Are you goi- Can I walk you home?” He fumbles over his words a bit.

   “Sure Jae.” You say without a second thought. He smiles, but then shakes it off. You turn to walk again, but he stops you again.

   “Can we go to my locker first?” he asks. You don't say anything, but nod. He holds his hand out for you to take. You raise your eyebrow at his need for your hand.

   “Please.” He pouts his lip. You sigh and hold his hand, he was quick to lace your fingers together. His smile is big and bright. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn. God his smile was pretty. He takes you to his locker, a little further into the school then yours was. He tries to unlock his locker with one hand. He fails a bit, clearly needing his other hand. You try to pull yours away, but he pulls back, squeezing it a bit. Then all of a sudden, he opened it. He does a little dance, happy that he wasn't struggling anymore. You had to quickly look away.

   Why is it so hard to look at him? Has he always been this pretty?

   You can look but not touch, you remind yourself. As soon as you do, your eyes go to your laced hands. You look back up too see Jaehyun slinging his backpack over one shoulder. He then shuts the locker and looks down at you.

   “Ready?” He asks you softly. When your eyes connected, they were stuck. All you can hear is your heart beating fast, the only thing you could focus on was his bottom lip tucked under his teeth a bit. His black hair was curly a bit, and hanging a little over his eyes. He shakes his head a bit, giving himself a better view, letting his lip go.

   You quickly nod walking forward, pulling him behind since he wouldn't let your hand go.

   The walk took ten minutes. Hand in hand, walking as if you weren't in a rush. Nothing was said, because your mind was filled with a million words.

   Jaehyun was the same. His heart was beating so fast. He has had a rough week. He didn't want to avoid you, but his friends mentioned that giving you space will make the future better for both of you. He thought it made sense. But before this, you were actually opening up to him. You may not have noticed, but now he knows so many little things about you. Like your favorite food, and color. He was getting somewhere, but now you felt cold. You closed the door before he could get a foot in. He could feel it in your hand. It was just hanging there, as he held it tight. There has to be good things coming from this.

   You turn down the final alleyway, making it to the first door you come to. You turn to him wanting to say something. But he beats you to it, holding your hand up and holding it with both of his hands.

   “Before you say anything, I'm sorry.” He breathes out. “I didn't mean to say all of that to you on Monday. I mean I did, but not like that. You were going through something and I just overwhelmed you more.”

   “Jaehyun why do you like me?” You ask him, not sugar coating anything. He frowns a bit, looking down at the ground. He licks his lips.

   “Truthfully, it was when I first saw you. I thought you were so fucking beautiful. Mhm…” He looks up at you. “I really couldn't get you outta my head. Then it got to the point where my heart was beating out of my chest when you came near me. I knew I was in deep when I heard how much I was contributing to making your life hell. It made me sad that you were sad. You didn't have anyone until Max, I tried to reach out but you just brushed me off, expected. I just wanted to show you that I was here for you and no one else.” His eyes bored into yours. His words shocked you to the core. “I'm sorry for not speaking to you all week. Only excuse I have is that I want you to be happy, and I'll do anything to make sure of just that.”

   “Avoiding me for a week doesn't help anything. It doesn't make any sense, how can you just leave so easily if you supposedly like me.” You were getting frustrated. Thankfully there was no one around. “I don't want to give in to you and these stupid feelings I have, just to have you walk away.” Your words made Jaehyun’s heart drop to his ass. He will never listen to his friends again.

   No one says anything for a moment.

   “Feelings?” Jaehyun's voice was soft. Whisper like.

   “I-Just stop being all flirty if you're going to avoid me like you don't know me. My heart can't handle that. I know that I wasn't the nicest to you, but you make me feel so warm and fuzzy-” He cuts off your rambling by raising his hands to your face.

“Please don't get worked up, I promise I won't do that again.” His face was close to yours. His lips grazed yours as he spoke to you. You were trapped between the brick walls and him in front of you. Your body was on fire, your knees felt weak.

You push him away quickly, you take your right hand and beat on the chest of your heart slightly.

“Stop doing that.” You fan yourself. “Being all cute and teasing me like that. I can't take that from you.” You felt out of breath.

Jaehyun looks down at your red burning cheeks. He smiles in awe at you- so fucking cute.

“Either kiss me or don't.” You mumble, not thinking he could hear you. But oh did he. You gave him permission. “Thanks for walking me home.” You could feel his eyes looking down at you. You look back up at him, and pull your hand away. You turn and open the door, before you step in, you look back at him.

“I think-I think it would be best if this is the last time we talk to each other.” You quickly go in and shut the door. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to drown out his voice calling your name. You realized how far deep you are, and you needed it to stop now. You refused to get hurt. Stopping it now, before anything else could happen. It was right.

It was so easy for him to walk away, probably not having a thought about you. All while you couldn't stop thinking of him. This decision might hurt you for a while, but it'll save you in the long run.

Hopefully.

   You go up to your bedroom and call Max on your computer, using facetime. You both talk about how horrible certains classes are. She talks about the recent animes she's been into, telling you to write some down so you can see what she's talking about. You try to laugh along to her ramblings but everything was just off.

“Okay, what happened?” She stops talking about what her dog was eating, and stares at you through her screen, waiting.

“Jaehyun.” You say simply, knowing she wasn't going to stop asking.

“Spill!” She yells, getting excited.

“I-I don't know Max. He pretty much confessed to me twice. And- and I pushed him away.” You blurt, your eyes were already starting to tear up. The fact that Max wasn't saying anything, didn't make anything better. “It's better this way though, I won't get hurt. I refuse to fall for some pretty boy.” You shake your head.

“You are crazy, my friend. You are going to regret this.” She says seriously shaking her head. You were shocked at her words, expecting her to side with you. “Look I'm sorry, but I stand by the truth. I promise you he just got lucky with the look, Jaehyun is the God gifted person. He is one of a kind. There is a reason why he is the school's star student, without him, our school wouldn't have a name.” She rants. The school is pretty small.

   “You need to fix this, I promise you, you will love me forever for convincing you.” She starts again. “You are self sabotaging, and I won't allow it.” She crosses her arms, and nods her head with a pout. Her facial expression makes you smile a tiny bit. You knew she was right, you were literally pushing him away, hurting him in the process of trying not to get hurt. That's not fair. You should at least try.

You really do know how to fuck shit up.

“Now I have to wait until Monday.” You mumble.

“Mhm no you don't. This girl Minji, she's having a party, he usually goes.” She spins around in her chair.

“Absolutely not. Are you kidding me? Everyone hates me.” You instantly shut it down.

“No, she doesn't. She's one of the girls with a boyfriend.”

“Then go with me.”

“EH! NO! I went once, and never again!!” Gosh, she could be so dramatic.

“I think I'm just going to go on a walk or something, take time to think. I can't let this stress me out.”

“You won't be if you just give into your obvious feelings.”

You lay down in your bed, thoughts never stop coming to you. You go through so many emotions as you think about everything. All you wanted is to go back in time. You weren't this type of person, yes you didn't want to hurt, but you also fought back. Deep down you know Jaehyun is an amazing person, but you werent and that was the problem.

You turn your head and take a look at the clock on the side table. It was almost midnight, you might as well sleep at this point.

   The next morning, you make yourself some breakfast and start working on your homework that you had for the weekend. You hated dragging it out and would rather get it done all at once.

   Hours pass when there's a knock on the back door. You frown and look up at the door, Jaehyun's voice pops into your head from him yelling out your name yesterday. You sigh, shaking your head softly wanting the thought to go away. You stand up and walk over to the door. You open the curtain a bit to see who was outside, and too see him there. Your eyes widen and you gasp closing the curtain.

   “Can we talk?” He asks through the door.

   “I'm not even dressed. I'll see you Monday.” You yell through the door. You look down at your pajamas, sweats and a tank top. No bra.

   “Then put some clothes on, I need to talk to you.” His voice was loud enough for you to hear. You sighed, knowing that this was your fucking chance to make the right choice.

   “Well can you wait one second?” You ask.

   “Yes of course,” You hear him laugh a little. You quickly run to your room and put on a sweatshirt. You also brush your hair up and into a ponytail. You washed your face real quick, making sure everything was good. You brush your teeth for the second time this morning.

   You go back and finally open the door. He was still standing there waiting, with a small smile on his face. You were horrified with yourself. He looked so good, with his hair a bit wavy, in an expensive looking knitted sweater. He looked so good out of school uniform. Then there's you, sleeping in on a saturday and looking like a troll while doing homework.

   You let him in, he looks around the room, with his eyes landing on yours as he turns around. You didn't know what to do, say, or where to go. You look down at the table covered in your school work. You walk over to it and start to organize it again.

   “So whats up?” You ask him. Your voice comes out a lot weaker than expected.

   “I refuse to give up-I can't give up.” He speaks softly. The air around you two turned thick. You look up at him, frozen mid paper shuffle. He looks up at you and licks his lips. “I just want to tell you that you don't have to be scared. I promise you that I won't hurt you.” His eyes bore into your. Your cheeks are set ablaze. You look back down, tapping the paper on the table, as if they weren't already neat. So many things you could say back, what to say. His feet walk closer to you. His hand reaches out and he grabs your wrist. He gently takes the papers and tucks them in a book and closes it. He grabs both of your hands, and you couldn't help but to lace your fingers through his. He squeezes your hands with his. He gives you a soft smile.

   Fuck hes so pretty.

   You look down, your whole face now burning.

   He was waiting for you to say something, anything. And you should, he has said so much and you just ran away. But now you can't, you won't.

   “Jaehyun, this is all very foreigne to me. I never was pretty enough to anyone- I was never enough. I'm scared as hell yes, because I've been hurt before, and I refuse to.” No one ever tried this hard.

   “I'm so sorry. You deserve so much, and I want to attempt to give you everything.” One of his hands let go of one of yours, and grabs on to your waist, slowly pulling you closer. You couldn't help but to lean forward and lay your head on his chest softly. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You wanted to laugh.

   “Jaehyun, you are so good with your words. Practice a lot?” You ask him, teasing. You wonder how many girls he had said this to. But his face confuses you a bit, he looks as if you caught him in the act of something bad. Then he quickly looks away, laughing.

   “Yes actually, all morning.” His words come out soft, they also make your head snap up, looking at him. He then pulls you all the way into his arms. Your eyes roam all over his face. His skin was so perfect, eyes low and dark. His lips, so moist and inviting.

   “You put this ball of light in me, and it keeps growing and growing. Everytime you glance my way, my heart skips a beat. I have goosebumps running down my spine just because you're in my arms. I heard a third time a charm, after this, I'll go if you want me to. But I think that you want this, but you're nervous. I understand, I just need you to understand that I got you baby.” His voice was silky. As he spoke, he got closer and closer. His words ending near your ear. Your eyes roll back a bit as goosebumps prickle your skin.

   What would happen if you kissed him? Would he kiss back? Would he push you away because he didn't want to be kissed?

   Fuck, you really wanted to kiss him. Why the hell not.

   Your right hand raises up to his cheek. Your thumb running over his cheek softly. He stares down at you, letting you do whatever you please. Your hand runs farther, past his ear, deeper into his hair. You pull him closer, and he follows with no hesitation. You don't stop until you feel his lips on yours. It was like a bubble popped and you couldn't stop.

   He pulls away a bit harshly looking down at you. His lips turned red and his hair a bit wild since your hand was all through it.

   Oh no, did you do something wrong?

   He suddenly backs you up a bit. His hands go onto your waist and quickly lifts you and sits you on the counter. You were a bit shook. Did this man just lift you?

   You watch him as he opens your legs a bit and stands between them. He leans in, close to your face.

   “Again.” And he kisses you again. He moans against your lips, sending vibrations from your lips and down. You can tell he tried to take it a bit slow, but you felt as if you had a bit of an advantage. You were positioned higher than him, so you easily laced your fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, making his face look up a bit more. You start to control the kiss, you tongue running across his lips, wanting him to open up. He lets you, easily.

   He has thought about this moment for so long. He dreamed of these lips.    

   As one hand tugs on his hair, the other runs up and around. Damn, why does this feel so good?    You pull away, and you gasp softly for air. His hands grab your waist and he tugs you closer, your crotch lining right up with his. This definitely had you gasping for air. His lips trail down and all over your neck. Sucking and nibbling in different areas. He kept going until he reached a certain spot that made you melt.

   “Jae…” You moan softly into his ear as he marks your skin. He reacts by biting down pretty hard on your neck, but then licking the same area.

   “Can I touch you?” His words were soft, and gentle. But you froze up, and you pulled away. Your body did not want to be away, but your brain wasn't ready to comprehend that. You shake your head, unable to speak because of the previous actions. You shy away, afraid that he would be upset. They always are, then it just makes everything worse. You don't know if you could be rejected by Jaehyun.

   “No, no it's okay.” He grabs your hands in his.

   “I haven't done anything like that Jae, and I clam up everytime someone wants too. I just don't think I'm ready yet.” You mumble looking down at your joint hands. Your heart was beating in your ear. Your nerves were going wild. One of his hands rises, and tilts your head up a little and he kisses you softly on your lips.

   “We don't have to do anything you don't want to.” He smiles at you. He moves a bit, and that's when you notice that he was hard as hell. Then you notice how awkward he was standing, and must be very uncomfortable.

   Now you don't mind touching him…

   “Can I touch you?” You throw his words back at him. His eyes catch yours. You didn't mind doing that, in fact you really wanted to. You wanted to see his face when you made him cum. Your eyes caught him biting his bottom lip. “Is that too much?” You question him, feeling a bit uneasy under his intense stare.

   “Mhm, I go at your pace.” He says deeply. You get down and grab his hand taking him up to your room. You shut your door and take a deep breath. You turn around and put a hand on his chest, wanting to push him down onto your bed. But he grabs your wrist slightly and leans forward. He kisses you softly and gently, he pulls away slowly, and looks down at you.

   “You don't have to do this…” His lips graze yours. One of his hands skim over your cheeks, he looks at you with so much adoration.

“I put you through a lot lately. I want to make up for it.”

“These are enough…” His thumb plays with your bottom lip. You whine a bit, pushing yourself against him.

“Can I touch you now?” You pout, your fingers looping through his belt loop. “I don't wanna pressure you, bu-”

“Please touch me.” He captures your lips in his again. And your hands instantly start roaming everywhere. You lift his shirt up a bit, feeling the ridges on his torso. You groan against his lips. His body was hot, he was hot, everything was hot.

And too good to be true.

You pull away, and push him down onto your bed. He goes to unbutton his pants, but you stop him. You push him some more so that he is now laying down. You lift his shirt a bit, exposing his v-line and more. He leans up a bit, flexing for you. You couldn't help yourself, since he marked you up, it's only fair to do it back. You lean down and attach your lips right above his pants button. His body twitches a bit, not expecting a kiss in that exact area. Your lips send waves of pleasure through his body, and you've barely done anything.

He needed a release so badly, and the fact that you offered, he would've come in his pants right there.

All over his waistline, you leave marks. Big ones too. While doing that, you've managed to unbutton and unzip his pants. They were already pretty low on his waist, making it easy for him to push them down a bit, allowing you to grab him in your hands.

“Hmm.” He moans and you move your hand up and down a bit. He looks directly at you, you make sure you keep eye contact as you go down and give him a couple of kitten licks on the tip.

“Fuck..” He sighs, sounding out of breath. He falls back on the bed, allowing you to proceed.

If a dick could be perfect, it would be his. He was a grower, forsure. One vein running around it, the tip bright red. You wanted to make it shiny with your saliva, you always found pretty cocks to be so aesthetically pleasing.

You started going at it, taking him in as far as you could go. Which in this case, you could take him whole. He reached your max. He was perfect.

You frowned when you realized he was holding back his moans. You let up, stroking him slowly.  

   “Why are you holding in your moan, Jaehyun? I want to hear how good I'm making you feel.” You suck on his tip a couple times, your tongue playing around it.

   “Fuck-I just...I didn't want to be too loud.” His voice laced with moans.

“Don't hold them in, it makes me upset.”  You quickly go back down on him, helping him chase his high. His cries break out and the sudden intenseness. His stomach was feeling tingly.

   “Look at me.” You mumble. He leans up on his elbows and he looks right at you. His face was burning red, and his hair was a mess, from his own hands going through it. He watches you as you take him all the way in. Just the sight of you alone could make him cum.

   His eyes start to roll to the back of his head, his brows frown and his mouth is open wide. He tries to keep his eyes on you. But when you bring a hand up to his ball, he loses it. His hand goes up to your hair and he pushes you down a bit.

   “Fuck, I'm so close, i'm so close. Please… please. I need this, I need you.” He mumbles under his breath as he starts to fuck into your mouth. His words make you moan around him, breaking him.

   “Fuuuuhck.” He falls back on the bed, his body losing control a bit. You don't let up, testing his overstimulation reaction.

   “Holy-holy shit.” His body spazzes a bit. “Keep going and I'll get hard again.” He warns, voice weak. But you let up, knowing your throat was going to be a bit sore. When you swallow everything in your mouth, his body swings up and he kisses you.

   “That-that was amazing.”

“Mhm,” You smile and peck his lips again. You get up and go to your bathroom to quickly run some mouthwash through your mouth. You couldn't help but to wonder what's going to happen next. Was he going to leave? Did he feel awkward now? Were you even as good as he says you are? You look into the mirror, seeing red marks all over your skin. You knew those were going to be darker soon.

You go back to the room, seeing Jaehyun sitting on your bed, looking out the window. You quickly run up to him and push him back. You climb on his lap and put his arms above his head.

“Who allowed you to mark my neck up?” You shake your head down at him, trying to hold back a smile. His surprised face turned into a sly one, he bits his bottom lip and quickly flips you over, so now you were in the exact position, you were just on the bottom. Your hands above your head. With his strength, you could barely move.

“Everytime I see you, I crave you more and more. I can't help but want to just eat you.” He says smiling softly. But his eyes were dark. He leans down and kisses you softly, taking your bottom lip and sucking on it a little. A moan escaped your throat.

“So sweet.” He croaks, before diving down for more of you. You give him as much as you can. You both kiss each other with so much emotion. Showing eachother how much they want this. Saying everything that could never actually be said.

You pull away, everything is hot and tingly again.

“You have to be the strong one and pull away, please.” You capture his lips again, getting your last kiss in. How could you get so turned on from a kiss. He moans against your lips. Letting one of your hands go, he caresses your cheek, pulling away. He hops off and clears his throat. You sit up, in a state of shock. You didn't not expect this today.

“Um, I don't really feel like getting ready for the day. So wanna order some food?” You look up at him. He looks at you with a confused look on his face. “Or if you want to leave, you can do that t-”

“Let's order, I'll pay.” He smiles widely at you.