#and there are fics but none that I really personally like

[fkinkindagauche]

Somebody Has to Arrange the Matches

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo Round One, prompt "Dustin Henderson". Full fic on AO3.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 5,398 | CW: None | Tags: Dustin Henderson parent trap, gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington speed runs his sexuality crisis, first kiss, mutual pining, friends to lovers, frottage

Summary: Dustin is adamant that Eddie Munson deserves to find love, after all he's been through. Once Dustin figures out some things about Eddie, he gets to work making it happen.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie was being cagey again.

It had become Dustin's personal mission now that Eddie was out of the hospital to get the man a girlfriend. As far as Dustin could tell from his probing questions to the Corroded Coffin guys, Eddie had never had a girlfriend, which was honestly shocking to Dustin. Sure, Eddie could be pretty over the top, but everyone liked him. And it wasn't like he was ugly. So he must just be too shy or something. Dustin wanted to help.

Dustin currently had him cornered in Gareth's garage, away from the rest of the group. They'd just finished a D&D session at Gareth's house, with a Corroded Coffin practice scheduled after. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were waiting for Steve to pick them up before the practice started. Dustin was doing his utmost to get Eddie to go out with one of Robin's band geek friends, but Eddie was resisting all of his attempts.

"Henderson, no." Eddie sounded exactly like Steve did after Dustin had asked for a ride about ten times, trying to get a no to magically change to a yes. "I'm not going to ask Veronica out."

"Why not?" Dustin asked, voice raised. "She's a huge nerd, she flirts with you, like, non-stop, and she's hot."

Eddie sighed. "I'm just not into her."

Dustin groaned, tugging his hands through his hair in frustration. "Are you into anyone? Every time I bring someone up, you shoot the option down."

"Well, I don't like your options, bud. They're not good options."

"That's objectively false!" Dustin yelled. "Most guys would kill for some of the options I've presented!" Why did Eddie have to be like this?

"How can it be objectively false?" Eddie shot back. "It's literally my opinion. The definition of subjective."

Dustin glared at him. He hated when Eddie tried to outsmart him. He hated how often it worked. Steve drove up just as Dustin was opening his mouth for a rebuttal.

"Thank the fucking Lord," Eddie muttered. "Please take this young whippersnapper off of my hands before I kill him," Eddie yelled to Steve when he got out of his car.

"Oh, great," Steve said. "Can't wait to spend the next 15 minutes with a feisty Henderson in my car."

God, they were both such turds sometimes. Dustin sighed loudly and stomped over to Steve's car. "This isn't over, Munson!" he called over his shoulder. Eddie flipped him off in response.

He grabbed the passenger seat before Mike, Lucas, or Will even made it to the car, much to their chagrin. Steve chatted with Eddie for a few moments, Eddie leaning into his space as per usual, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder.

Dustin leaned over and honked the horn.

"Really, Dustin?" Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

"Some of us have places to be!" Dustin yelled back.

"Where do you have to be?" Lucas asked from the backseat.

Dustin shrugged. "It's the principle of the thing."

Steve spent a few more moments talking to Eddie, probably just to piss Dustin off, then came back to the car.

Dustin gave Steve 30 seconds to adjust, watching the time tick by on his watch. He'd been told off one too many times for immediately starting an interrogation, so this was his compromise with the world. As soon as his watch hit the 30 second mark, he started in.

"So why doesn't Eddie ever date anyone?" Dustin asked, talking over whatever conversation Mike and Will had been having in the back.

Steve glanced at Dustin with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"From the intel I've gathered, Eddie's never had a girlfriend," Dustin said. "He turns down all of my suggestions for potential dates. But if anyone deserves a girlfriend, it's him. He's, like, a hero. I want to help him find his Suzie."

"Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver?" Steve interjected. "Why aren't you trying to find me a girlfriend?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "You've had a million girlfriends, Steve. Give some of the other poor dudes a chance."

"Yeah, Steve. You're kind of hogging the eligible young women of Hawkins," Mike piped up from the back seat.

"I haven't had a girlfriend since Nancy," Steve protested.

"But you do still get around," Dustin insisted.

"Whatever, man." Steve shook his head. "Why don't you let Eddie do his own thing? Maybe he's just picky."

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, not responding. Steve was wrong. Eddie deserved his own Suzie. And Dustin wasn't going to give up on helping him find her.

"So I saw this girl the other day at the arcade," Dustin started. He and Eddie were at the trailer, painting some miniatures. It was his mom's night working late, and Dustin had started spending it with either Eddie or Steve on alternating weeks.

Eddie groaned. "Not again, Henderson. Can't we go, like, one day without this shit?"

"But Eddie! I think you'd really like her. She had a mohawk. Dyed pink. And her nose was pierced."

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, smearing some red paint on his cheek. He stayed that way for a few moments, quieter for much longer than usual. Dustin worried for a moment that he might have broken him. When Eddie finally looked up, his face was serious in a way it almost never was. He reached out for Dustin's hand.

"Dustin. I'm about to tell you something, and you cannot freak out about it. And you can't tell anyone else about it, either. Am I clear?" Usually, Dustin would have thought a joke was coming after an intro like that from Eddie. But he seemed completely earnest this time, so Dustin actually considered what he'd asked.

"What about Suzie?" Dustin asked. "Can I tell Suzie?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, you can tell Suzie."

"Alright," Dustin said. "I agree to your terms. No freak out, no telling anyone other than Suzie."

Eddie nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm gay, Dustin."

It took Dustin a second for his brain to parse what he'd just heard. Eddie. Heavy metal band member, dungeon master Eddie.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Dustin squeaked. He must have misheard.

"I'm gay," Eddie repeated. "Queer, fruity, a homo, a friend of Dorothy, a fairy. I like men. That's why none of your options have sounded remotely appealing to me. That's why I've never had a girlfriend."

Dustin sat back in his chair, stunned. A lot of things were making sense now.

"Oooookay," Dustin said, nodding. So now he had to find Eddie a boyfriend. More difficult, but he liked a challenge. "So what's your type? We can find you a boyfriend."

Eddie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. He looked relieved. "Are you serious? That's your only question, what's my type?"

"Of course that's not my only question, who do you think I am?" Dustin was a little offended. "That's just my most pressing question."

"I think this is the best response I've gotten so far to coming out," Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Dustin felt pretty good about that. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Eddie chuckled. "I should've known this wouldn't make you give up your weird crusade." He pulled a few strands of hair in front of his mouth, chewing on the ends while he thought. "My type? I'm not totally sure, honestly, haven't had much of a chance to find out, living in Hawkins. I guess probably my height or maybe shorter, but not much taller. On the masculine side of things, almost the jock physique. Hairy. Brunette."

Dustin nodded after each characteristic, mentally taking note. "Those are all physical things. What about personality?"

Eddie had to think a little harder about that one, looking into the distance. "Um. Kinda goofy, I guess? Not too macho. Sense of humor." Eddie trailed off and looked at Dustin sharply. "Henderson, if you go around asking the men of Hawkins if they're queer so you can try to find a date for me, you're gonna get beat to shit."

Dustin held up his hands. "You really think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit here, Eddie."

"You have a track record of failing to read the room, man," Eddie pointed out.

That absolutely wasn't true. Dustin was very tactful. He could be quite subtle when he wanted to be. Eddie just never got to see that side of him.

"I'll be careful," Dustin insisted. "I'm not gonna ask anyone if they're gay."

"Alright," Eddie said, but he didn't look convinced. Dustin would show him.

The idea hit Dustin the next week, when he was spending his mom's late work night with Steve. They were out by the pool, and Steve's hairy chest was on full display, with all of its muscles. Dustin had Suzie, and she didn't want him to be muscular, but sometimes when he saw Steve's chest he couldn't deny the twinge of jealously.

Hairy. Muscular jock physique. Something was tickling at the back of Dustin's mind. Brunette. What was that? About as tall as Eddie.

Oh shit. Dustin dropped his Dr. Pepper as Steve yelled "COWABUNGA" and did a cannonball into the water. Kinda goofy.

It was Steve. Eddie had basically been describing Steve. Did Eddie even know? Had he been secretly pining after Steve this whole time? Or was it still subconscious?

Holy shit. But Steve liked girls. How was Dustin gonna make this work? Did he need to find a Steve doppelganger somewhere who was gay?

Steve popped out of the water, shaking his hair. He looked up at Dustin and the Dr. Pepper spilled all over the patio. "Everything alright there?" Steve asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dustin nodded. "I- I'm good. Everything's fine!"

Steve shrugged and dove back under the water.

Dustin did some research over the next few days. If he was going to find a gay Steve doppelganger for Eddie, he needed to understand the culture - where he could find other queer people, the types of phrases they used to identify each other without being too blatant, that kind of stuff.

He tried finding books at the library, but came up empty-handed and probably on some sort of list the librarian kept of degenerates. So he had to resort to asking Eddie where he got all his information.

"Why do you wanna know?" Eddie asked with a suspicious glare.

"I just wanna understand you, man!" Dustin insisted, putting on his most innocent expression. "You're my friend, I wanna know what's going on with you."

Eddie reluctantly handed Dustin some zines he'd picked up in Indianapolis. "None of the raunchy stuff," Eddie said. "I'm not getting arrested for dealing gay pornography to minors."

Dustin made a disgusted face. "You could have just… not told me you even had raunchy stuff."

Eddie shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dustin spent hours that night poring over the zines, learning the lingo. He discovered an incredibly interesting fact in one of the zines - the existence of bisexuality. You could like both men and women. You didn't have to be either gay or straight.

This fact blew Dustin's mind, and the seeds of a different plan took root. What if Steve was bisexual, and he didn't even know it? That would be the easiest, most logical solution to the Eddie problem. Steve was Eddie's type; so what if Eddie was also Steve's type?

He talked about it with Suzie the following evening. She'd been shocked to learn that Eddie was gay. Mormons weren't exactly accepting of homosexuality. But she'd always played a little fast and loose with certain aspects of Mormonism, so Dustin was able to bring her around to the idea eventually.

"I don't know, Dusty Buns," she said as they were discussing his idea about Steve. "I don't think you can just make someone be bisexual."

"I'm not gonna make him be bisexual," Dustin insisted. "I'm just gonna try to show him that he already is."

"But what if he isn't?" she shot back.

"Then I'll go back to the doppelganger plan," he said with a sigh. "But I have to try. This is the simplest solution. Occam's razor."

"Dusty Buns, you know you're not using that correctly right now," Suzie scolded.

Dustin sighed. She never let him get away with anything.

Dustin paid a lot more attention to Steve and Eddie's interactions over the next few weeks. Now that he knew Eddie was gay, he couldn't believe he'd missed the signs pointing to his crush on Steve.

Eddie gravitated to Steve like a moth to a flame. It was like he had some sort of Steve-related sixth sense, his head immediately turning toward Steve whenever the man walked into a room.

He was a tactile guy with everyone, but whenever Steve was around, it was always Steve that Eddie was touching. Every time Dustin looked at the two of them, Eddie had a hand somewhere on Steve - slung around his shoulders, resting on one of his arms, brushing against one of his legs to get his attention.

Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He leaned into the physical contact, touching Eddie back almost as often as he was touched. They smiled at each other all the time. They got each other drinks and snacks and just in general acted like a goddamn couple. How had Dustin missed this?

He was gonna need to accelerate his timeline. These idiots needed to get together ASAP.

Read the rest of the fic on AO3.

[vanillebunny]

Heyyy I saw you’re taking request so here’s a fun one! Can I request a hurt/comfort Thanos x reader post games fic? A soft reunión if you will! Obviously an AU where either the X votes win OR where Thanos actually survives his supposed death and gets out. I’m thinking he and the reader got super close during the games but completed lost track of each other afterwards. And one day they just do happen to reunite ☺️

a/n: hi anon!! thank u so much for requesting!! i keep rewatching squid game js for thanos i have a problem

warnings: light drug use, mentions of addiction, i think thats it but please tell me if i missed something!

you don't know how you got into this mess, how you managed to get into a deal so bad that it put you in deep debt. which brought you here, with all these people. in green tracksuits, all of them reduced to a number rather than a name

'it's okay, i'll play a few games, get my money and finally get back to my life' you think to yourself, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket as you look around nervously. you don't know what this was, some form of pyramid scheme--gambling den? whatever it was, it didn't exactly bring ease to your mind

you're startled by the sudden sound of someone behind you, tapping your shoulder. you look back and see a man with purple hair, smiling like an idiot. you furrow your eyebrows, who the hell was this guy?

"seniorita excuse me" he says and smirks, "couldn't help but see you over here, all nervous--please, i know i'm too hot to handle but im sure.." he trails off and looks over you once, twice, before looking back at your face, "you can handle it" he says and you raise your eyebrows, repulsed by his actions. you back away

"who the hell are you?" you say, grossed out by this clearly overly confident guy

"im a legend!" he says and makes a little pose with his hands, "thanos." he says and wiggles his fingers, showing off the different colors of each nails

"thanos?" you scoff, "as in...that guy from the movies?" you say and he nods, wiggling his fingers even more to really emphasize the so called infinity stone colored nails

"don't worry seniorita! i have all the power in the world to protect you from these demons!" he says and surrounds you, looking at the people around you exaggeratedly, all of whom don't even spare him a second glance, clearly busy with their own problems

"uh...yeah thanks. im okay" you say and begin to walk away, to the crowd where everyone was listening to the instructions and such.

soon, you were all in the large sandy field, spreading out to begin the game. red light, green light they said. all of this just seemed...too easy. there has to be some catch, there's no way you play some child's game and walk out with billions of won

when you go around and take your place, you can hear running, and you look behind you to see none other than that same purple haired freak that was desperately trying to reach you. you roll your eyes and turn away but he was quick to get beside you

"phew! thought i wasn't gonna get to you in time" he says, as if it you two planned to be playing together or something, "don't worry, we'll play these games together--then you, me, billions of won in our hands. you think our kids would be proud of their appa for protecting their eomma and making sure she wins too?" he says and you just raise a brow, huh?

"who said we're playing together?" you say and begin to move away but to your luck, the game begins, and you have no choice but to stay frozen in place. where, thanos was right beside you, smiling triumphantly at the fact that you were still here

as the game begins, the players all seem to be moving calmly, nobody had lost till now. and it was all very relaxed, huh, maybe this wasn't as bad as you thought

but your relaxation went as quickly as it had come. a woman, not too far ahead of you, had a bee fly on her neck. a man beside her informed her about it and she--like any other person, panicked and moved, making her the first loser.

like in any other game, if someone lost they leave the game. so everyone expected her to just walk out, but as soon as she moved, a loud shot was heard. and you froze, the sight of her, falling to the ground--bullet to her head with blood already beginning to pool, you panicked.

what the hell was this? you knew this wasn't right! you knew there was a catch--but this? your heart raced, barely able to hear anyone with you. you watched helplessly as people began running and screaming, each one who moves an inch dies instantly by the shots firing from the sky.

you ran with every inch of strength you had, and just as the giant robotic doll stopped singing, you stopped. a tear streaming down your cheek, but you were too slow to realize--you were about to fall right when she turns her head.

you closed your eyes, accepting your fate. but somehow, you feel yourself still. you open your eyes, your chest heaving, you look down, seeing a pair of feet right beside you, probably the person holding you up

"don't move...okay? i got you" you hear the person say and you instantly know who it is, the same purple haired weirdo that had been trying to flirt with you earlier. his voice is...different though. it's not as cocky as it was before, you could hear a slight tremor, he's probably just as scared as you are

"th...thank you" you whisper out with tears streaming down your cheeks, the two of you continued on. holding on to each other as the game kept going, as soon as you finally reached the finish line, you hugged him tightly.

"thank you...thank you so much" you cry softly, so grateful. you thought he was just another guy that would probably let you die if it meant he wins, but to your surprise he wasnt.

he was a bit taken back by the sudden hug, but hugged you back. "i told you ill make sure you win too didn't i?" he says and you two pull away, and you smile half heartedly. annoyed by the reminder of his remark earlier, but still grateful. "i think it would be...kind of a bad story if i tell our kids i let their eomma die" he says and you shake your head, annoyed

soon, everyone was sitting in the room silently. not a single person was speaking, everyone was quiet. processing what they had just been through. you could see everyone had splashes of blood on them, probably from the people that have been shot around them. you sat alone, till you see thanos come and sit beside you

he's definitely not as scared as he was before, more hyper and aware of things. you could see him unable to sit still, sitting beside you while singing something to himself. he looks at you and grins, "im a kind man! ill share" he says and opens his cross necklace, which was fully supplied with candy. clearly not just any candy and probably the thing making him so hyper

you raise a brow and shake your head, you've been on that road before, it's what got you here. you'd rather not. "thank you...no. not again..." you mutter the last part to yourself, and he slows down his movements, noticing the distant look on your face.

"you try?" he says and you just nod, more to yourself than him.

"you don't wanna get too hopped up on that stuff...it's..not pretty" you say and he instantly closes his necklace, and kind of...just looks ahead, thinking.

soon, the guards come and everyone panics, some people crying and begging for them to spare their life. but the guards just stand there, trying to explain that that's not what's happening. one of the players, 456, suggests the idea that there should be a vote. you look at thanos for a moment

"are you...staying?" you say and he just nods, "i need to! im a legend yknow, this stuff is easy! can't go without my money" he says and you just look down. but he quiets down, "uh...are you?"

you quickly shake your head, "no--no i just...i want to go home." you say and get up to get in line for the vote, and he just follows you.

you vote for x, and go with the group, people cheering for you. thanos was right after you, and you can see him hesitate for a moment. his friend, can be heard telling him to keep playing. but he glances at you, just for a second, and presses x.

why would he do that? but he was in debt, he needs it way more than you do

after that, you woke up in the street. it was all a quick blur, as soon as the votes were counted up. the x votes more than the o. everything fades and you were alone in the street, tied up loosely with your clothes in a pile beside you. you managed to knaw the rope loose, and untied your legs, getting dressed.

the days went by quickly. you don't know what you were doing, but something just felt...wrong. not the games of course, never that. you'd rather die than play them again...but you die in the games too so its not really a good analogy. but anyway, it was just something. you were back on your own, without anyone, as it always was.

and you never did mind. you were used to it, so why was it...so strange now? so wrong?

you roamed the streets of korea, just lost in a daze, not really wondering where you're going. till you reach the arcade that was in the alley, you walk in and bump into someone

"hey! don't you--" the person's voice quickly came to a halt when they looked at you, you looked at them. it was none other than thanos. thanos! you don't know why, or how--but that feeling you've been going through ever since you managed to get out of the games, it was completely gone now.

the two of you looked at each other for a long time, before he smiles. "seniorita! i thought i'd never see you again!" he smiles and jumps around like an idiot. you should be weirded out, leaving and saying you don't want to see this freak again. but you don't. you stay and actually smile back

"this is great! now i have a partner to play with, les gooo!" he says and drags you along with him into the arcade without even giving you a chance to respond. the two of you had spent that time together, playing games and it was actually fun. for the first time you were...enjoying yourself

soon, you were both some convenience store nearby, eating ramen and laughing about how you both suck so bad at playing.

after a while it had grown quiet, and you wanted to just ask.

"...why did you vote x...when we were in the games?" you say and he just kind of looks away for a moment before looking back at you

"well!" he begins, trying to sound cocky, but you can tell he's just putting up a facade, "can't have the future eomma of my kids get hurt now, can i? to not be able...to go home" he says and just looks down, mixing in his ramen

you just look at him for a moment, its all so quiet. he was a freak, a weirdo when you met him. you said to yourself that this guy was clearly another junkie, some asshole thinking hes a big flirt. but right now...all you saw was just...thanos. hes just thanos.

"thank you thanos..." you say, just looking at him, and he stops mixing and looks at you, his cocky expression fading.

"choi su bong...my name...is choi su bong. thanos is just for...the ones i keep at a distance" he mutters and looks down, his hands--as if trying to reach for his cross necklace again, but you can hear him sigh when he realizes its not there

"did you lose it?" you ask and he shakes his head

"no...im not on that stuff anymore. well im trying at least." he says and you're surprised, you're pretty sure just a few days ago he was offering you a full stock.

"why's that?' you ask and he just looks back at you

"it's not pretty" he says, repeating your exact words. "well..still a long way to go but im starting" he says and nods to himself and you just smile

"you can do it...i know you can" you say and--mentally facepalm at what you're about to do, but you don't care that much. you hold up your hands and make the exact same pose he made to you when you were at the games, "you're a legend, thanos! this is easy" you say and he just chuckles at your attempt to imitate him

"yeah well i got you with me seniorita" he says softly, but quickly returns to his cocky expression, "im unstoppable now!"

you don't know what this was exactly. but whatever it is...you were happy with it

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Sometimes I think about Harry being sent back to his relatives after his 4th and 5th year, and I lose my mind a little. It's bad enough he's sent back at all, but these two summers especially. Like how are you looking at this traumatised, grieving kid, who has been tortured and lived through some truly horrible events, and think taking him to people who hate his very existence is a good idea??? And no adult checks on him in person. They're watching him post gof sure, but no one actually speaks to him. No one tell him anything outside a few cryptic messages, he's left hurt and isolated. It's just crazy to me.

(Crazier that some people complain about Harry's behaviour in ootp. He's mild, all things considered)

I know!

Like, I don't know what Dumbledore was smoking, honestly... like, even if we're being generous in our interpretation of his actions and say Harry really needed to spend some time with Petunia every summer to keep his blood protection going (personally, I don't think it's the case, but I'm being generous), he doesn't need to spend the whole summer there. Like, he could stay there for one afternoon, one day, a week, maybe, max? Why does he need to stay there longer? Why between GoF and OotP Dumbledore plan for him to stay at the Dursleys the whole summer when Grimmauld Place was probably safer?

But, like, after OotP, at least the plan was for Harry to only stay with the Dursleys for a bit, even if longer than I would have left him there (which is none at all), but the concept of just spending there enough time so he could refresh the blood protections before going to the Weasleys is decent, like, I can understand that. Dumbledore came to pick him up on June 12th, a bit later than I would like, but he still spends most of the summer and his birthday with the Weasleys.

What I don't understand is leaving him completely cut off from everyone who cares about him and from all information about the Wizarding World (aside from Daily Prophet propaganda) after Voldemort returned, murdered Cedric in front of Harry, and tortured Harry. Like, what the hell?

I can't fathom how he could think this is a good idea. Like, at all. Between OotP and HBP, I get it assuming the blood protection really works like that or he believes it does, but the summer between GoF and OotP is near unforgivable, man.

I mean, I recently reread the graveyard scene for my fic and that was horrifying. Like, every time I reread it I am horrified anew at what happened there and what Harry went through... just, that whole scene is a lot (and maybe I'll do like a little rundown of it, since I feel like it needs talking about), and, like, damn, you're right that Harry's response is mild compared to how it could've been in OotP.

OotP Harry will always be one of my favorite Harrys (I love him in all the books) and I will forever stand behind his anger being a trauma response and that he isn't actually hot-headed. OotP was Harry reaching his limit, and boy, did it take a lot to get him to his limit. I mean, he's the opposite of a hothead considering just how much he had to suffer to reach his boiling point. I talked about his trauma responses here and his anger in particular here.

[concretejunglefm]

I'm not ready to let you forget me (part 5 - finale)

*edit credit goes to the lovely @defuckingthrone-dot-com

You told your friends you want me dead And said that I did everythin' wrong And you're not wrong

An anon request for lovers to enemies -> playlist, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5.

Summary: It’s been two years since Noah cheated on you, abruptly ending your relationship. However, the universe seems to have a peculiar sense of humor in its plan to reunite you.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: None really. Mentions of cheating, Noah can be an overall asshole and a tad bit of angst.

WC: 1.8k

AN: This is the final part in this fic. I hope all of those who've read it have enjoyed and thank you to the anon for requesting this idea, I hope that it met any of your expectations. I had so much fun playing with this trope.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Maybe it had all been a fluke. Perhaps the vulnerable side of Noah you had witnessed in his candidness had been a fleeting glimpse into something you would never encounter again.

As you retreat to the bar and adhere to your initial plan for the evening—wallowing in self-pity with a few cocktails—you find Noah seated there with his friends, his usual smug expression restored. 

This time, it irks you more, especially when he briefly glances your way but chooses to ignore you. It shouldn't bother you as much as it does. You thought that you had somehow moved forward, yet it feels like you've taken several steps backward.

After ordering a drink, you seek a quiet corner, or as quiet as can be found in a bustling bar within a Vegas hotel, and settle down, sipping contentedly on your cocktail while your eyes slowly scan the room.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

You briefly glance up to find Noah standing over you, but he doesn't wait for a response before sliding himself into the booth beside you.

"Can I help you?" You can't help but let your attitude slip through, as you felt slighted by earlier and him choosing to walk away.

"Retract those claws, kitten. I'm here to apologize." Somehow, you don't believe him, but you choose to relax slightly and offer him a genuine smile.

"Go ahead." You encourage him.

"You realize that you're the only woman who's ever made me get down on my knees and apologize, right?" You catch a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth, as if he's suppressing the enjoyment he derived from that.

"And I would do it again." You retort, maintaining a composed face and concealing any indication of your own thoughts behind it, by taking another sip of your drink.

"I don't doubt that." He scoffs, settling back against the seat, and you feel his arm brush against yours. "I genuinely mean it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked away earlier. It was just… a lot to process."

"And you've never been good with big boy emotions?" You quip, closing your mouth around the straw in your glass after apologizing, allowing him to continue.

He chuckles, despite the brief glare he had given you prior. "I suppose you're right. I've never really been good at expressing my feelings. But I also didn't know about your trip and whatever the guys had planned."

Your head perks up, and your brow furrows slightly as you pull your drink away. "Yeah, what was all that about? You said you knew I was coming?"

"Listen, all I knew was we had a show in Vegas. Apparently, Jolly, Sloan, and Nick had been planning this trip ever since. I only found out you were coming the week before we left. Apparently, Sloan asked what flight we were on."

Suddenly, everything began to make sense; the last-minute trip, the separate seats, and the fact that you were conveniently sat next to each other.

If you were a betting person, you would bet that she had also arranged the hotel rooms, given that this entire trip had been paid for using her hotel points through her work. "That mother—"

You grumble before Noah cuts you off. "I can't say it was the best idea, but I can't deny that I'm not happy it happened."

"Why? You realize that all this has only made us fight more than ever before."

"Yeah, but you're kind of hot when you're all fired up like that." Noah smirks, and you feel his eyes rake over you in a way that makes you squirm.

You hadn't expected that response from him. He was naturally flirty and charming, but there was some level of sincerity to his words, like he wasn't just trying to woo you.

"I still hate you." You clarify, and there's that smirk, wider than before, as he leans in close to you.

His mouth against your ear, he whispers, "I hear that hate-fucking is the best kind of sex."

His breath, hot against your ear, sends a shiver down your spine, between his words and the unexpected closeness of him.

Before you can respond, Folio's voice calls for him, and Noah swiftly slips away, giving you a wink in return.

There he is again, the same old cocky guy you've always known. Despite the frustration, it's strangely comforting, knowing that beneath it all, he remains the same. 

"I come in peace." Sloan says as she approaches you at the bar.

"Why are you acting like that?" You laugh and reach out for her hand, pulling her towards you.

"Because." she pouts. One glance into her eyes reveals the slight glassiness from a few too many drinks this evening. "Noah mentioned he told you about the whole plan. I thought you would be mad."

You shake your head and sigh. "I'm not mad."

"Just disappointed?" Her pout deepens, and you can't help but laugh.

"No! I mean, a bit, but I should've expected it from you. Meddling in my life is your second favorite pastime, after breaking boys' hearts."

"I do really well at the first one, don't I?" Losing her pout, Sloan stands up straight, as if proud of her accomplishment in your eyes and flips her hair over her shoulder. "But I don't want to break this one." She confesses, shuffling closer to you before her head turns, and you follow her gaze towards Jolly and the rest of the guys.

"Then don't. Let yourself actually be happy with a guy for a change." You gently nudge your hip against her, and she looks back to you, nodding in agreement.

"And you should let yourself get a guy."

"Like who? Noah?"

She instantly shakes her head and scoffs, dismissing the idea with a wave of her hand. "No. But I did see that cute waiter from the other night over there." She points to another table where a group of guys are sitting together. To your surprise, she's right. The waiter from the other night is sitting on the edge of the couch, talking to his friends.

With a nod and a quick pep talk from Sloan, you head over to his table, holding your head high as you try to think of anything flirty enough to catch his attention.

"Fancy seeing you here." you purr down at him. The guys' eyes shoot up to you, and surprise quickly turns to delight.

"What a nice surprise." he flashes you a smile and shuffles over, patting down for you to join him and his friends.

"Stare any harder, and you might just set him on fire." Jolly quips, passing Noah and patting him on the back with a chuckle.

Noah's eyes have been fixed on you ever since you approached the waiter from the other night and sat down. "What on earth is she doing talking to him?" he struggles to hide his annoyance at the thought of you entertaining someone else.

He doesn't notice the look shared between his friends, who are all watching him. Instead, he remains fixed on you with a heavily possessive stare.

Noah's jaw clenches with every giggle, every arm touch, and every movement that brings you closer to the guy you're with. He quickly looks away whenever he catches your head turning in his direction, afraid that you might see him staring.

"What are you going to do? Stop her from leaving with him?" Nick asks.

"If I have to." Noah replies.

At that moment, he notices you moving from the seat, your hand still holding onto the waiter from the other night, and watches you move through the crowd of people.

He tries to follow after you, but he doesn't know what he'll do if he catches up. Will he tell you not to go with him? Will he ask you to leave him with him instead?

He has no real plan of action, except for a determination to rush over and stop the lift after he sees you both stepping inside.

The doors close just a second too soon as he finally reaches it. "Fuck!" he grumbles under his breath and looks towards the doors leading to the stairs. Quickly, he runs over to them, pushing through the door and taking two steps at a time, determined to catch up with you.

David, as you learn the waiter's name to be, is a pleasant guy. Despite the fun and flirty nature of your conversation, Noah's words remain heavily on your mind.

Between his apology and his comment about hate-fucking being the best type of sex, your eyes constantly wander to the bar until you spot him. 

Convinced you've caught him staring, you can't resist the urge to tease him and decidedly invite David to join you for a nightcap in your room, slipping away with him.

It only takes a quick glance back at Noah's direction to see him already making his way through the crowd towards you.

You've got him right where you want him.

As you reach the lifts, you pull David inside, pressing the button for your floor. When you catch Noah heading in your direction, your hands move to the front of David's shirt, grasping him tightly and pulling him closer as the doors close.

Once alone with him, you push him back and reach for the buttons, pressing for the next floor. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have invited you up. I was just trying to make someone jealous." You confess, feeling a pang of guilt as you meet his gaze.

"Is it the guy from the other night by any chance?" He asks, and you remain silent, making him chuckle as he steps out of the lift on the next floor.

"I think you don't have to worry about trying to make him jealous. I think he's already there." You catch the way his eyes move across the hall, and you peek out of the lift to see Noah standing at the door to the stairwell.

As David passes Noah and enters the stairwell, you watch him approach you, and step back into the lift, him following, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "So, you were trying to make me jealous?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

He backs you into the corner of the lift, and your back presses against the cool, mirrored wall as you gaze up at him. "I hate you." You growl, Noah taking a step closer and closing the gap between you.

"I know, you've said." he says with a smug grin, trapping you between his body and the lift wall. His arm stretches out, and his hand rests just above you.

For a fleeting moment, your eyes meet, and you catch a glimpse of the heat in his own eyes. They unmistakably flicker down to your mouth.

"Kiss me then." you can't help but smirk as you watch him lean in towards you.

Your lips meet in a passionate exchange as the lift doors finally close, sealing you together on the ride back up to your shared floor.

If you truly hate him as much as you claim to, then why do you find yourself waking up in his bed the next morning?

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @annthepenguin @samanthasgone @littlebear423 @aprosiacperson @flowery-mess @nyriastark @blackgirlmagicforever, @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady

[haguenauisforlovers]

♡ TO ALL WEBGOTT WRITERS ♡

First of all, you are loved. Second of all, as announced, this event will in fact be hosting a fic collection on AO3: Haguenau is for Lovers 2025 and it is now OPEN FOR SUBMISSIONS.

FIC SUBMISSION DATES TO REMEMBER Fic collection reveal: Feb 12, 2024 Fic collection close: Feb. 20, 2024

It’s highly encouraged that you post your HifL Webgott fics in the collection so that in 20 years, when we all look back at this year's Valentine’s Week, we can all collectively say, wow, it really was terminal. Please read this event's fic rules, submission guidelines, and FAQs by clicking on ‘Keep Reading’!

How do I post a fic to a collection?

1. Head on over to the collection profile page (just click the link, babes): Haguenau is for Lovers 2025. 2. Click the “Post to Collection” button, as seen in the screencap below. You will be led out to the usual Publishing screen area.

3. Input your fic elements as per usual by adding your fic title, tags, relationships, characters, body of text, etc. Note: You can, in fact, save your work as a draft and the collection will still be saved in your drafted fic settings. If you find any stray typos or sentences that you want to rearrange after publishing the work to the collection, you’re free to edit away as you would a fic that’s published outside a collection. 4. Hit publish, and ta-da, you have imprinted Webgott into your soul and shared your work with like-minded sickos. Congratulations and thank you for your service. *At any point between Feb. 12-20, Webgott fics are welcome to be posted and published into the collection. 5. All fics (regardless of prompts followed) will be revealed and published by the moderators starting Feb. 12, 2025 (Webgott Wednesday). So if you submit early, and you don’t see your work appear on the collection, don’t worry! It will be appear on the date mentioned.

*For early fic submissions:

If you publish or draft your work before Feb. 12, 2025, we encourage you to change the date of your work once the collection is opened to the latest date. That way, your work will be bumped up to the latest works in the fandom/ship tag. 

E.g. You drafted/published your work into the collection on Feb. 10, 2025. Follow these steps to edit the date:

1. Go to your fic and click the “Edit” button. 2. Scroll down to the “Associations” area. There you will see a toggle button that says “Set a different publication date” (See screencap below). Click the check box to allow the date change.

3. Change it to the current date. 4. Scroll down and click “Post” to save your changes.

Can I submit more than one fic to the collection?

Yes, you can! Write out your Webgott heart’s desires. There is no limit to the number of fic submissions per person. The more the crazier. ♡

Is there a minimum/maximum word count limit?

There is none. Drabbles, poems, long fic, multi-chap if you have them are all welcome.

Can we include other ships?

This is a Webgott event so they must be The Main Relationship. Joe Liebgott/David Webster, that’s what it’s all about, baby. Ships apart from Webgott are welcome as background/implied.

Can we do AUs? 

AUs can be incorporated in, but fics should be set primarily in Haguenau.  e.g. Post-war is allowed but they have to be reminiscing about Haguenau. Modern AU but they’re thrown into a time machine and land right smack behind enemy lines. You get what we mean.

Are AI-generated fics allowed? 

Aww hell no. All Webgott works found here will be organic and free-range. RPF is honest work for real, beautiful, flesh-and-blood sickos. AI generated fics will be excluded from the collection.

Do you have any prompts?

Yes we do, friend. You can find them here!

Will you reblog my fic post on Tumblr?

Of course! Mention @haguenauisforlovers in your caption and/or tag your post with either #haguenauisforlovers or #webgottvday and we’ll be sure to reblog it on to our page.

Any more questions? Feel free to send over any inquiries you might have. This event’s inbox is open! Soooo excited to read everyone’s fics! Yayyyy. ♡

[bbdeongi]

Blurry Words, Clear Feelings

☆PAIRING: Childhood Bsf! San x Fem! Reader

☆WARNINGS: Angst, fluff, fake friends, Y/N is drunk, pet names (Angel, Precious, Darling.), Suggestive at the end but not too much, friends to lovers au.

☆SUMMARY: your trust is shattered after discovering your so-called "friends have been using you. Drunk and upset, you turn to your best friend, San, who is there to comfort you.

☆WORD COUNT: 8.9k

☆A/N: AHH I'm so happy I finally completed this!! this is a request from @/atzlov-r. Thank you so much for waiting!! And this is the longest fic I've made.. jsjs

The night had started out innocently enough. You had gone out with your “friends,” hoping to have a good time and maybe forget the weight of everything you had been dealing with lately. It was supposed to be a fun night—laughter, drinks, music, and maybe some dancing. But as the night wore on, things started to feel... wrong. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but it became undeniable. Your friends weren’t really friends. They were just people who took advantage of your kindness, of your willingness to buy drinks and keep everyone entertained.

When you overheard their conversation outside the restroom, you felt the sharp sting of betrayal. The truth hit you like a ton of bricks. “We can get her to buy us more drinks. Why not?” “She’s just so easy to manipulate. I mean, who else is going to pay for it?”

It hurt more than you expected, a mix of anger, embarrassment, and confusion. You had spent so long trying to make them happy, trying to fit in and be liked. But they didn’t care about you—not at all.

Without thinking, you stormed back to the group, your chest tight with emotion. You wanted to scream at them, to make them feel what you were feeling, but all you could do was yell, your voice breaking as you confronted them.

“Why are you using me?!” you shouted, not caring who heard. “I’m not your personal ATM! You don’t even care about me!”

The group froze for a moment, clearly startled and shocked by your outburst. A few of them exchanged uncomfortable glances with each other, but none of them seemed to truly understand the weight of your words. One girl, the one who had been laughing the loudest earlier, rolled her eyes as if your outburst were just a minor inconvenience.

“You’re being dramatic, Y/N,” she said dismissively. “We’re just having fun, okay? Stop being so sensitive.”

“Sensitive?” You couldn’t help it. You scoff, Your voice grew louder, slurred from the alcohol but full of hurt. “You’ve been using me this whole fucking time! I’ve been buying drinks for all of you, running around, making sure everyone’s having a good time, and this is what I get in return? Being laughed at behind my back!?”

A couple of them shifted uncomfortably, their faces a mix of guilt and annoyance. But no one spoke up. No one apologized. They didn’t even try to make things right. The girl who had dismissed you earlier just shrugged and rolled her eyes once more.

“Look, it’s not a big deal. You’re overreacting,” she muttered, before turning away to chat with someone else. “You're acting childish, it's annoying, Y/N..”

That was it. That was the moment you knew you were done. You couldn’t stay here, not with these people. They weren’t worth your time, your energy, or your trust. With a shaky breath, you turned on your heel and walked away from the group, feeling the familiar sting of humiliation in your chest. You felt a tear roll down the side of your face. You didn’t care if they were watching. You didn’t care about them at all.

You made your way to the bar, pushing through the crowd. Your legs felt wobbly under you, but the anger and sadness kept you moving. You couldn’t stop now. You couldn’t go back to those people who you called your "friends". Instead, you just needed to drink. Forget about them. Forget about everything.

As you reached the bar counter, you barely noticed the bartender behind it. She was busy talking to another customer, her back turned for a moment. But you didn’t care. You were too focused on your own thoughts, and your own emotions. You needed another drink. You needed to drown the pain.

When the female finally turned to you, her eyes scanning your face, you gave her a small, tired smile. It felt forced, but you hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“Can I get a... double whiskey?” you slurred as you wiped the tear off of your cheek, your voice thick with alcohol.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down. She hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing whether or not she should serve you more alcohol. But then she shrugged and started to pour your drink.

“Here you go,” she said, sliding the glass toward you. You picked it up and took a long gulp, the burn of the whiskey doing little to dull the ache in your chest. It was numbing, but not nearly enough.

Your hands trembled as you reached for your drink again, ignoring the way your vision blurred. Maybe if you drowned yourself in enough alcohol, the pain would fade, the ache in your chest would disappear, and you wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. You could just disappear in your own mind. Get away from the real world and the problems that come with it.

So you took another sip.

And another.

And another.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you ordered your next drink. But it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. One drink after another, until the female worker seemed to just be going through the motions. You didn’t even know how many drinks you had by then—five, six, seven? The alcohol was starting to take hold of you completely, your mind fuzzy and clouded, but you didn't give a shit. Your anger had turned into a numb, empty feeling, a void that seemed to swallow everything around you.

Every time you looked up, the same faces from your “friends” were still there, laughing and chatting. But none of them cared. They were just focused on themselves. You could feel their eyes on you, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything except getting more drunk. "fucking selfish" you thought to yourself. that's what they were. Selfish assholes..

At this point, you barely noticed the bartender behind the counter. She had been watching you for a while, and as she made her way over, she seemed more concerned and worried than before. She stopped in front of you, a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said, her voice gentler than before. "I think you’ve had enough."

You blinked up at her, trying to steady yourself. "M'fine," you slurred, though the way your body swayed slightly said otherwise.

“That’s enough drinks for now,” she said again, firmly, her tone almost maternal.

You blinked up at her, confused. “What?”

“I said, that’s enough,” she repeated, shaking her head. “You’ve had more than enough drinks for tonight.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words got stuck. You didn’t want to listen to her. You didn’t want to hear anything right now. You just wanted to keep drinking, to forget everything that had happened, to forget how badly you had been used.

But the woman didn’t back down. She placed a hand on the counter and leaned in a little closer, her expression softer now, though still firm. A sigh fell from her lips as she looked at you with serious eyes..

“Listen,” she said, her voice gentle but serious. “I don’t usually do this, but you’ve had too much. I know you’re upset, but drinking more isn’t going to help you. It’s just going to make things way worse.”

You looked up at her, eyes blurry and unfocused. You didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. The alcohol wasn’t helping. It was only making everything feel more intense, more painful. But still, you didn’t know what else to do. You couldn’t handle everything that had happened. You didn’t know how to fix it.

“Do you have someone who cares about you?” she asked softly, her eyes locking with yours. “Someone you trust? Someone who’s there for you?”

You thought about it for a moment, the haze of alcohol clouding your thoughts. But then the name came to you, like it always did.

“San,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. “San...”

Her eyes softened. “That your boyfriend?”

You snorted, though it was weak. “No. My best friend.”

The bartender studied you for a long moment before exhaling through her nose. “Good. Because you need a real friend right now.” Then, before you could protest, she pulled out her phone. “Tell me his number.”

You frowned, the alcohol making your brain hazy. “Why?”

“Because, sweetheart, you’re drunk off your ass, and I’m not letting you go home with people who don’t give a damn about you.” The bartender gave you a soft, knowing look. “I think it’s time to call him. Let him help you.”

You nodded weakly, your heart sinking. You hadn’t wanted to rely on San, but now, it seemed like the only thing you could do. He had always been there for you, always been your rock. You just hoped he would be there for you now, after everything.

The bartender took your phone from your hand, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’m going to call him for you, okay?”

You didn’t have the strength to argue. You just sat there, letting her take the phone from your unsteady and shaking hands. She quickly found San’s name in your contacts and dialed the number, bringing the phone to her ear. You could barely make out the words when the phone picked up, but you could hear the familiar sound of San’s voice on the other end.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice sounding worried.

“Hi,” the bartender said. “This is a bartender at the club. Your friend is here, and she’s had a little too much to drink. She’s upset, and I think she could really use you right now. Can you come pick her up?”

There was a brief pause before San’s voice returned, sounding much more alert. “Y/N?.. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, but she’s drunk and needs you. I’m not letting her stay here like this. Can you come get her?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The bartender smiled softly and nodded at you. “He’s on his way.”

You felt a strange sense of relief wash over you, like a weight lifting off your chest. San was coming. He would be there to help you. Everything would be okay. Everything will be just fine...

“Thank you,” you whispered to the bartender, your voice barely audible.

She gave you a warm smile. “It’s no problem. Just hang in there, okay, dear? He’ll be here soon.”

You nodded again, feeling your eyes grow heavy. It felt like everything was finally starting to calm down like the storm inside you was slowly fading. You just needed to wait a little longer. San would be here soon. And everything would be okay.

San was already halfway out the door before the bartender could even finish explaining.

“She’s drunk,” she had said through the phone, her voice low and concerned. “And those people she’s with? They don’t have her best interests in mind.”

That was all San needed to hear.

His chest tightened as the words echoed in his mind. He’d told you, warned you about those people before. But you hadn’t listened. You’d always been too trusting, too kind. You’d thought they were your friends—good friends. But now, he was seeing just how wrong you had been.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he navigated the busy streets, the city lights flashing by in a blur. He knew you were strong. He knew you didn’t need anyone to protect you. But this—this was different. You were vulnerable. You were upset. You weren't in your normal headspace. And right now, you are alone in a crowded bar with people who don’t care about you.

The thought made his stomach churn.

San pushed open the heavy doors of the bar, the sound of music and laughter spilling into the night air. He scanned the room quickly, the crowd of people barely registering in his mind. His eyes locked onto you almost immediately.

There you were, slouched over the bar counter, your cheek resting against your folded arms, tears slowly rolling down your flushed face. Your fingers still loosely wrapped around the glass in front of you, the remnants of your drink barely visible. You looked so small, so fragile in that moment. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. You were hurting, and it killed him to see you like this.

His jaw tightened in frustration, and his fingers flexed at his sides, itching to do something. How could they have done this to you? he thought. How could they use you like that?

The bartender, noticing him standing there, waved him over. She was a tall woman, her demeanor calm but concerned. “You must be San,” she said, her tone even but with a hint of understanding.

San nodded quickly, his eyes never leaving you. “How bad is she?” His voice was tight, almost urgent. He was worried about you.

“She’s had too much,” the bartender replied, her gaze flickering to you before landing back on him. “And from what I overheard, she just found out those friends of hers aren’t really her friends. They’ve been using her, taking advantage of her.”

San’s heart sank at her words. He knew, deep down, that this was what had been happening all along. But hearing it out loud made it real in a way that hurt him more than he expected.

Shaking his head, San forced his emotions down. There wasn’t time to dwell on it now. He needed to focus on you. He crouched down next to you, his warm palm gently landing on your shoulder. His fingers brushed the fabric of your top as he tried to rouse you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice softer than he intended. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

At the sound of his voice, you stirred slightly, your head lifting just enough to blink at him through bleary eyes. Your gaze seemed unfocused for a moment, as if trying to make sense of the world around you. Then, recognition flickered in your eyes, and you managed to lift your hand, reaching out to touch his arm.

“S- sannie?” Your voice was small, barely above a whisper.

San’s breath caught in his throat at the sound of his name slipping from your lips, but he didn’t let it show. He forced a smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Yeah, it’s me,” he replied softly, fighting the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. “I’m here, angel. Let’s get you out of here.”

You let out a small hum of relief, your lips curling up in a small smile that made his heart ache. “I- I knew you’d come...” you mumbled, your voice thick with alcohol and sleepiness.

San’s heart clenched painfully in his chest at the words. Of course he would come. He’d always come. But hearing you say it like that—so vulnerable, so trusting—made him want to protect you more than ever.

“Of course I came,” he said, his tone low, almost tender. He brushed another strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. “You think I’d leave you like this?”

You pouted, your brows furrowing in that adorable way that always made him laugh. “No…” You sighed, your voice sleepy as your eyelids fluttered closed momentarily. “But I didn’t w- wanna bother you…”

San scoffed, though there was no real bite to it. He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “You’re never a bother to me.” His voice softened at the end, his words laced with an unspoken truth. He would never see you as a burden, never in a million years.

Before he could coax you to your feet, your body swayed slightly, and you slumped forward in a way that made his stomach lurch. His reflexes kicked in just in time as he reached out and steadied you, his arms catching your waist before you could fall off the stool.

“Alright, that’s it,” he muttered under his breath. His voice had a resigned tone to it, but he didn’t hesitate. He bent down, his strong arms sliding under your legs as he effortlessly lifted you up onto his back. “You’re not walking like this.”

A little squeak left your lips, and San couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders. Your body felt light against his back, but the sensation was strangely comforting. It felt... right, in a way.

“Ohhh… piggyback ride!” you giggled, your voice slurring slightly as you rested your head against his shoulder.

San shook his head with a quiet laugh, securing his grip under your thighs. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, though his tone was fond, “Just hold on tight, alright?”

You hummed happily, your arms tightening slightly around his neck as you buried your face into the curve of his shoulder. “Y- yay! Piggggyybackk..!” San could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin, making his heart race just a little bit faster. He tried not to focus on it, on how perfect it felt to have you so close, so vulnerable in his arms.

He thanked the bartender, and she waved back. He was glad that a trustworthy person found you, and stayed by your side. Who knows what could've happened if you just stayed alone.

He adjusted his grip on you and started walking toward the exit, his pace steady and sure, despite the weight of you on his back. The whole situation felt surreal, it felt like a dream he never wanted to wake up from. But as much as he wanted to stay in that moment, he knew there was still one more thing to deal with.

That’s when the rambling started.

“I’ve.. always thought you were sooo perfect,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “Like.., San, you’re jus- so... so... pretty... And hot. God, you're so hot.”

San’s entire body froze, his eyes slightly widened, his breath catching in his throat. The words tumbled out of you, slurred and slow, but they hit him like a freight train. His heart skipped a beat as the weight of your drunken confession sunk in.

Did you just say that?

You didn’t seem to notice the effect your words were having on him. You just kept going, completely unaware of how much he was trying to keep himself together. He ignored you and continued walking. Maybe you didn't mean it. But you continued..

“You’re a- alwayyysss there for me.. Y'know? Always. And you’re so kind... and you’re strong... but like, in a... in a way tha's not too much, y'know?”

San’s chest tightened, and he let out a shaky breath. He didn’t know how to respond to that, didn’t know what to say. Part of him wanted to laugh it off, to tell you that you were just drunk and didn’t mean it. But another part of him—the part that had always cared for you, the part that had always been there for you—was starting to feel something he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

You continued your rambling and yapping, completely unaware of the emotions racing through him. San’s thoughts were a whirlwind, his heart hammering in his chest as he focused on getting you to the car. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this—dazed, uncertain, and maybe even a little afraid of what all of this meant.

But one thing was for sure: He would never let you go. Not now. Not ever...

You eventually reached his car. He opened the passenger's side and carefully set you down on the seat.. you groaned softly as you leaned back against the cushion. He reached over you and buckled your seatbelt in. He gently shut the door and walked over to the driver's side. He got in and buckled his seatbelt.. A sigh left his lips as he started the car, looking at you making sure you were okay.

San sighed as he maneuvered the car onto the road, one hand gripping the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift. The neon streetlights cast long shadows on your face, highlighting the way your head wobbled slightly as you tried to sit upright. You stared out the window, your eyes following each pink and blue light.

The drive back home was quiet, except for the soft hum of the car's engine and the occasional hiccup that escaped your lips. San's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he focused on the road, his gaze flickering over to you every now and then. You were still resting against his shoulder, your face still flushed from the alcohol.

Every time you hiccupped, a small giggle followed, making San's heartache in a way he didn’t expect. Your giggles were cute and carefree, but there was an edge to them—a tenderness that made him feel both protective and… something more.

You hiccupped suddenly, your whole body jolting from the force of it, and a sleepy giggle followed immediately after. “whoopsies,” you murmured, swaying a little as you leaned your head against the cool window. “’M’drunk…”

San huffed out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, angel, I know.”

You turned your head to him, blinking a few times like it was hard to keep your eyes open. Your lips pushed into a small pout, and you let out a dramatic sigh. “But… but Sannie, just ’cause I’m drunk… doesn’t mean I’m lyin’,” you slurred, dragging out the last word as if it took effort to say.

San's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening slightly. He could already tell where this was going. Though you didn't drink much and tried to avoid it, you always got like this when you were wasted—overly affectionate, a little too honest, and completely unaware of how much your words affected him.

"Y/N," he warned, glancing over at you, but you weren’t paying attention to his hesitance.

You suddenly gasped, sitting up straighter—though the movement made you wobble slightly. “Ohhh my God,” you drawled, eyes wide as if you had just come to some life-altering realization.

San arched a brow. “…What?”

“You’re jus’—” You hiccupped again, a giggle bubbling past your lips. “You’re jus’ so… perfect, Sannie.”

San inhaled sharply, his knuckles going white against the steering wheel.

Oh no.

He really needed to get you home before you started saying things he wouldn't be able to forget.

"You always take care of me," you mumbled, your head rolling slightly as you stared at him with big, unfocused eyes. "You're so… so nice. Like… sooo nice. The nicest person ever. Like, for real. I dunno what I’d do without you…”

San swallowed, keeping his gaze locked on the road. “Y/N, you’re drunk,” he repeated, his voice lower now, more controlled.

You ignored him completely, waving a hand in the air as if dismissing his words. "An’ you—" Another hiccup. "You have the best shoulders.”

San blinked.

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He turned to you for a brief second, only to see you staring at him—your expression deadly serious.

“…What?”

“Your shoulders," you repeated, slurring slightly. "They're sooo big. Like… stupid big.” You reached out clumsily, your fingers poking at his upper arm before sliding up to pat his shoulder as if testing its size.

San clenched his jaw. “Precious, keep your hands to yourself,” he muttered. He secretly liked how clingy and touchy you were, but he had to keep you grounded at this moment.

But you only pouted, retracting your hand with an exaggerated sigh. “Jus’ sayin’,” you mumbled under your breath, slumping back against the seat. “S’not my fault you got shoulders like a… like a…” You trailed off, blinking in thought. Then your face lit up.

"Like a mountain!" you announced loudly with a stupid smile on your face.

San let out a long, exhausted sigh. “A mountain..?”

"Yeahhh," you giggled, wiggling a bit in your seat. "Like, if I ever got lost, I think I’d be able to find you, ‘cause your shoulders are like… like a landmark.”

San pressed his lips together, fighting back his blush, but he couldn't help it. You were a mess. A completely ridiculous, drunk mess. And you had no idea how close he was to losing his mind over you.

You hiccupped again and let out a dramatic groan. “Ugh, why’re you so pretty, Sannie?”

San stiffened.

Oh, no. He was not having this conversation with you right now.

"You’re jus’ so pretty," you slurred, batting your eyelashes, blinking at him in awe. "Like, it’s not fair… your face is so—so nice, and your eyes—Sannie, your eyes—" You turned to him with an exaggerated, pouty frown. “They're so brown.”

San let out a strangled noise. “I mean… yeah? That’s kinda how eyes work, Y/N.”

You huffed, clearly unsatisfied with his response. “Nooo, but your eyes are like, warm brown. Like… melted chocolate. Or… or a sunset, if a sunset was brown—wait, no, that doesn’t make sense…”

San squeezed his eyes shut briefly, inhaling deeply before forcing himself to focus on the road.

"You really need to sleep," he muttered, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

"But I’m not tired!" you protested, even as your head wobbled dangerously close to the window.

San scoffed. “Yeah? Then why are you slurring all your words?”

You blinked lazily at him before shrugging. “M’just… relaxed…”

San shook his head, letting out a quiet chuckle. "Precious," he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. "You're really drunk. You don’t even know what you’re saying. You’re not sober, Y/N."

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head—though the movement made you wobble even more. “Well…” You hiccupped again, pressing your palm against your face as if trying to steady yourself. “I’m sober ’nuff to know I mean it.”

San’s breath hitched, his heart stalling for just a second.

He knew you were drunk. He knew that. But there was something in the way you said it—something that made it feel too real.

You smiled, clearly pleased with his response. But then, a moment later, your face softened, and you sighed, resting your cheek against the window. “Sannie…”

San hummed in acknowledgment.

"You’re my favorite person," you murmured, your voice softer now, sleepier.

San's fingers twitched against the wheel.

His throat felt tight. He knew you were drunk, knew you probably wouldn’t even remember this conversation in the morning. But damn it… it still made his chest ache in a way he didn’t know how to deal with.

“…You’re mine too, angel,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You made a content little noise, eyes fluttering shut. “Good,” you mumbled. “M’glad.”

San swallowed thickly, stealing one last glance at you before refocusing on the road.

Yeah, he thought, me too.

San exhaled as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, the tension in his shoulders finally easing just a little.

The entire ride had been filled with your drunken rambling, your words a mixture of heartfelt confessions and ridiculous observations about his mountain-like shoulders. He had tried his best to ignore the way his face heated every time you sighed about how “safe” and “solid” he felt, but it wasn’t easy when your voice was so soft and full of admiration.

But now, as he parked the car and glanced over at you, he noticed you had sobered up—just a little. Your eyelids were still heavy, and you swayed slightly when you moved, but your words weren’t as slurred anymore. The giggles had quieted, and instead of the drunken daze from before, there was something else lingering in your gaze—something softer.

San sighed and stepped out of the car before making his way to your side, opening the door and crouching down slightly.

“Alright, darling,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. “Up we go.”

Before you could even process what was happening, he slid an arm under your legs and lifted you onto his back again.

A small gasp left your lips at the sudden movement, but you didn’t resist. If anything, you melted against him, your arms draping lazily over his shoulders, your cheek pressing against the back of his neck.

“You do this too much,” you murmured, voice still laced with exhaustion.

San huffed a quiet laugh, adjusting his hold under your thighs. “You keep getting yourself into situations where I have to.”

You made a tiny noise—a whine in protest, but the warmth of his back was too comforting for you to argue. Instead, you relaxed, letting him carry you toward the building.

The moment he stepped into his apartment, a familiar sense of calm washed over him. The dim lighting cast soft shadows across the walls, and the faint scent of vanilla from his candles still lingered in the air. He didn't have time to blow them out since he was so focused on getting to you and bringing you back here.

He walked straight to his bedroom, the lamp on the nightstand cast a dimly lit glow, the curtains covering the night sky.. He gently set you down on his bed before stepping back and looking at your tiny self. He couldn't deny how cute you looked.

“You need to change,” he said, already moving toward his dresser. “I’ll grab something comfortable—”

“San.” Your voice stopped him in his tracks.

His fingers froze just before touching the drawer handle, and he turned to look at you, expecting to see your usual sleepy, drunken expression.

But you weren’t just drunk anymore. You were looking at him with clarity.

“I mean it when I say I like you.”

San felt the air leave his lungs.

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He just stood there, his entire body frozen as your words echoed in his mind.

You weren’t laughing. You weren’t teasing. You were serious.

“I’ve meant it for a long time,” you continued, your fingers gripping the blanket beneath you. “And I know you think I don’t know what I’m saying because I had too much to drink tonight, but San, I swear, I know.”

San swallowed hard, trying to keep his heart from completely spiraling out of control.

“Darling…” His voice was careful, hesitant. “You’re still a little drunk.”

You frowned, frustration flickering in your eyes. “I know that,” you muttered. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.”

San inhaled sharply, his grip tightening at his sides. He could feel how much you meant it. He could see it in the way you were looking at him.

And that terrified him. Because for years, he had told himself this would never happen.

For years, he had buried everything, convinced that his feelings for you were one-sided, that you only saw him as a friend, that he had no right to want more.

And now here you were, sitting on his bed, looking at him like he was your entire world.

“I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret saying this,” he admitted, his voice quiet but firm.

Your brows furrowed, and you pushed yourself up slightly, propping yourself on your hands. “Why do you always do that?”

San blinked. “Do what?”

“Doubt yourself,” you said, shaking your head. “Doubt me.”

San’s chest ached at the frustration in your voice.

“It’s not that,” he murmured. “I just don’t want you to—”

“Regret it?” you finished for him. “San, I won’t.”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Because if he did—if he let himself believe you—he wasn’t sure if he could hold himself back anymore.

You stared at him for a long moment, your breath uneven. Then, suddenly, your jaw clenched, and before he could react, you reached forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him toward you.

And then you kissed him.

San froze.

Your lips were warm, soft, and desperate—like you were trying to prove something to him. His brain short-circuited.

For years, he had imagined this. Wanted this.

But nothing could have prepared him for what it actually felt like.

Your hands gripped his shirt tightly, as if you were afraid he’d pull away. But God, he had no intention of doing that. Not when you were kissing him like this.

His hesitation cracked.

San exhaled sharply through his nose before he finally—finally—moved.

His hands found your waist, pulling you impossibly close as he kissed you back, his movements slow but deep. He could taste the faint remnants of alcohol on your lips, but beneath that, he could taste you. And it was intoxicating.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer, and San let out a quiet groan against your lips. His head was spinning, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it.

This wasn’t just some drunken mistake. This was everything.

When you finally pulled back, your breath was uneven, your lips slightly swollen. Your eyes met his, and there it was again—that look. The one that made his entire world shift.

“Still don’t believe me?” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

San swallowed hard, his hands still resting on your waist.

“I believe you,” he admitted, his voice rough.

Your lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

And just like that, he was done for.

Your breath was still uneven when you leaned back slightly, eyes searching his face. San was still so close, his hands resting on your waist, his lips barely parted as if he was still trying to process what had just happened.

And maybe you should have stopped there—let the moment settle, let him breathe.

But you didn’t want to. Because for years, you had wanted this.

And now that you had him here, looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded, you weren’t about to let him run away from this.

So you kissed him again. This time, there was no hesitation.

Your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in as your lips pressed firmly against his.

San inhaled sharply through his nose, his entire body going rigid. But he didn’t pull away.

No—he kissed you back.

And this time, there was no careful restraint.

His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make you shiver. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that sent heat rushing down your spine. It was slow but deep, each movement drawing you closer, making your head spin.

His warmth, his scent, the way his hands held you like he was afraid to let go—it was all consuming.

You felt weightless. Dizzy. Desperate.

A soft, needy sound escaped your lips, and that was when it happened—San froze.

His lips stilled against yours, his entire body stiffening before he abruptly pulled away, breath heavy.

Your brows furrowed. “San—?”

His hands were still on you, but his grip had loosened, as if he was forcing himself to let go. His jaw was clenched, his eyes dark, but beneath that, there was something else—a storm of emotions he was clearly struggling to keep under control.

His gaze dropped to your lips for half a second before he quickly looked away, exhaling sharply.

“Angel,” he murmured, voice low but strained. “You’re still a little drunk.”

You pouted at that, lips still tingling from the way he had kissed you just moments ago. “I told you—I know what I’m saying.”

San shook his head, his hands slipping from your waist, though it looked like it physically pained him to do so. “I don’t wanna lose control.”

You swallowed, heart pounding. Lose control.

You weren’t naive. You could feel what that kiss had done to him. You could see it in the way his chest rose and fell, in the way his fingers curled slightly like he was restraining himself from pulling you back in.

And it thrilled you.

Because you had done that to him.

You had never seen him like this before—so close to unraveling, yet still fighting to hold himself back for your sake.

Your frustration grew. “San,” you whispered, reaching for his hand. “I want this.”

His breath hitched, but he didn’t move.

“I want you.”

His fingers twitched under yours. God, he was fighting so hard. And you were determined to break him.

San barely had a second to react before you grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him down onto the bed with you. He let out a startled grunt as his back hit the mattress, his hands instinctively finding your waist to steady you as you climbed onto his lap.

“Angel—”

You cut him off with another kiss, this one messier, more desperate. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly as you deepened the kiss, pouring every bit of emotion you had into it.

San groaned against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening as his self-control slipped further. You could feel the way his heart pounded beneath your touch, the way his breath hitched every time your hips shifted against his.

You knew he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

And you were determined to make him lose that last shred of restraint.

You trailed your lips away from his, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, then down his neck. San sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Y/N…” His voice was a warning, but it was weak—shaky.

You smirked against his skin. “What is it, Sannie?”

A curse slipped from his lips as your teeth grazed against his pulse point, followed by a sharp inhale when you sucked gently, leaving a mark behind.

You felt him tense beneath you, his grip on you almost bruising now.

“Precious, you’re playing with fire,” he muttered, his voice rough, strained.

You hummed against his skin, trailing another kiss lower. “Maybe I want to get burned.”

San’s breath stuttered, and for a second, you thought he might finally give in.

His hands slid up your thighs, his fingers brushing beneath the hem of your shirt. His nails scraped lightly against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

But then—he exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut before gripping your waist and flipping you onto your back in one swift motion.

A gasp left your lips as he hovered over you, his breath coming in uneven pants. His dark eyes were locked onto yours, a mix of frustration and want swirling in them.

“Angel,” he said, voice lower than before, “I swear to God…”

You swallowed hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Swear what?”

San clenched his jaw. His thumb traced slow circles against your hip, his other hand braced beside your head, keeping himself from completely pressing against you.

“That if you weren’t still a little drunk, I’d show you exactly how much I want you.” His words were a low murmur, his lips just inches from yours.

But you didn’t stop. Instead, you pressed another kiss just below his jaw, your tongue flicking out to taste his skin before you sucked lightly, determined to leave a mark. A quiet groan rumbled in his chest, and you smirked against his skin, feeling victorious.

“You don’t fight fair,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your thighs, fingers teasing the hem of the shirt you wore.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes heavy with desire. “Then stop fighting.”

Something in San snapped.

His grip on you tightened, and in the next second, he flipped you onto your back, his body pressing firmly against yours. His lips crashed onto yours, no longer gentle—this was different, raw and filled with need.

A gasp escaped you as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips to taste you. His hands roamed your body, mapping out every curve, every inch of you that he had wanted for so long.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough.

You grinned, breathless. “Good.”

He let out a low chuckle, but it was cut off when you tugged him down by the collar of his shirt, kissing him harder, more desperately. His weight pressed you into the mattress, and you arched against him, wanting to be impossibly closer.

San’s lips trailed down your jaw, then your neck, his teeth grazing over the marks you had left on him just moments before. “You like marking me up, huh?” he muttered against your skin.

You hummed, threading your fingers through his hair. “You look good like this.”

His lips curled into a smirk, and then, without warning, he nipped at your pulse point, drawing a gasp from your lips.

Your fingers tightened in his hair as he continued his assault on your neck, pressing kisses, sucking lightly, then soothing each mark with his tongue. Your skin burned under his touch, your whole body alive with electricity.

“Sannie…” You whimpered, rolling your hips against him.

San groaned, his hands gripping your thighs to still your movements. His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he breathed heavily, trying to steady himself.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered, voice thick with want.

You grinned against his temple, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Then what are you gonna do about it?”

San lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, in one swift motion, he pinned your wrists above your head, his smirk widening when you let out a surprised gasp.

“I guess,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours, “I’ll just have to teach you a lesson.”

And then he kissed you again—deeper, hungrier—no more hesitation. No more holding back.

But just as you thought you were about to get what you wanted, San exhaled a heavy breath, his lips brushing against yours in a brief, teasing kiss. His hands still hovered at the edge of your dress, not yet moving, as though trying to find the strength to hold back.

You heard him murmur, barely above a whisper, “Tomorrow.” He said. He was serious this time. He wasn't about to let you win this battle, nor his mind.

You froze for a moment, your eyes searching his face. The words hit you harder than you expected, like a punch to the chest. You couldn’t believe it. After everything that had built up, after the heat between you both, he was pulling away.

"Tomorrow?" you repeated, voice tinged with disbelief and frustration. You pouted a bit, but it didn't work on him.

San’s lips curled into a soft, apologetic smile, though there was something gentle in his expression, a softness that you didn’t expect. “Yeah, tomorrow,” he repeated, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “You’ve had enough for tonight.”

“But San…” you whined, a hint of desperation in your voice. “I don’t want to wait… I want this now.” You tried giving him those puppy eyes, and as much as they always worked, not this time...

His hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs gently brushing over your skin. “I know you do, love,” he murmured, his voice low but firm. “But tonight isn’t the night. You’re still a little drunk, and I’m not gonna take advantage of you. Not like this.”

You pouted, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment flood through you. You had wanted him so badly, wanted to feel the warmth of his touch without hesitation. But even as you felt that desire stir within you, there was something in his gaze that made you pause.

San wasn’t doing this out of indifference. He was doing it because he cared, because he wanted to make sure that when this moment came, it would be right for both of you. And for that reason, you could almost forgive him.

“I’m not that drunk,” you muttered trying to convince him once more, your voice still soft, though the pout on your lips remained.

San chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I know, darling. But tomorrow, when you’re sober, it’ll mean more.”

A whimper escaped you, and you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “But I want you now… please, San…”

He smiled, a mixture of tenderness and determination in his gaze. “Patience, baby. Tomorrow, I promise. But tonight, let’s just be here together. No rushing. Just… us.”

You huffed, exasperated, but the soft affection in his voice settled the rest of your emotions. You weren’t quite ready to let go of the heat between you, but you knew—deep down—that San was right. This wasn’t about just tonight. It was about something more, something deeper than the rush of desire.

“Fine,” you sighed, leaning back against the headboard as you looked up at him. “Tomorrow, then.” You knew you couldn't fight back anymore.

San gave you a satisfied smile, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek. “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice quiet and soothing. “Get some sleep now. We’ll take our time tomorrow, I promise.

You huffed again, but there was no real bite to it. Despite your disappointment, you knew he was right.

San stood, his expression softening as he looked down at you, still lying in his bed, a little dejected and pouty from the earlier conversation. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before heading toward the closet to grab a change of clothes for you.

He returned with his favorite oversized hoodie and a pair of his boxers, the fabric soft and worn from the many times he’d worn them. As he approached the bed, you sat up slowly, still in your dress, feeling the weight of the night beginning to sink in. You had tried so hard to push the thoughts from your mind, but they kept resurfacing, like waves crashing relentlessly against the shore. The truth of what had happened—how your "friends" had used you, manipulated your kindness—seemed so much more painful now that the haze of alcohol was starting to lift.

You tried to keep your composure, but the sting in your chest was undeniable. Your fingers twisted in the fabric of your dress as you glanced up at San, who was kneeling beside you, his face soft with concern. He gently placed the clothes in your lap, but before you could respond, the emotions you’d been holding back all night began to swell up again. You swallowed thickly, trying to hold back the tears, but they were already threatening to spill over. You let out a tiny whimper.

“Hey,” San said, his voice soft but steady. He reached out to touch your shoulder, his fingers warm against your skin. “It’s okay. You don’t have to hide it.”

You shook your head, fighting to keep it together. “I just… I don’t know why they’d do that to me,” you muttered, the words feeling heavy in your throat. “I thought they were my friends, but it turns out they only wanted me around for drinks, for the fun. They didn’t care about me at all.”

San’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening. But he didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he took a deep breath and slowly helped you out of your dress, his hands gentle, as if trying to keep you from falling apart. You were gorgeous he thought. You were so beautiful. Sometimes he thought why didn't you have a boyfriend.. But now he had a chance. You loved him and he loved you.

Every movement, every brush of his fingers against your skin felt like an anchor, pulling you back from the storm swirling inside your chest. But the hurt was still there, gnawing at you, and the tears couldn’t be stopped.

Once you were dressed in his oversized hoodie and a pair of boxers, you climbed into his bed, curling up beneath the covers. The warmth of the fabric, the scent of him all around you, should’ve made you feel better—but it didn’t. Not yet.

San followed you into the bed, slipping under the covers and wrapping his arms around you. You nestled against his chest, trying to find solace in his warmth, but your mind refused to let go of the images from earlier. How your "friends" had abandoned you, laughed about you behind your back, and used you when it suited them. You had trusted them. You had believed in them. But it had all been a lie.

“I don’t get it, San,” you whispered, the tears falling freely now. “I don’t get why they’d do that. Why didn’t they just tell me? Why didn’t they treat me like I mattered?” You felt a tear run down your face.

San’s chest tightened at the sound of your voice cracking, and he pulled you in even closer as if trying to shield you from the world and everything that had hurt you. He didn’t speak right away, allowing you the space to cry, to release the pain that had built up in you for so long. It wasn’t about the drinks, the party—it was about the betrayal. It was about realizing that the people you had opened your heart to had never truly cared.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” San finally spoke, his voice low but firm. “You cared. You trusted. That’s not a mistake.”

“But they… they used me, San,” you choked out, your words shaking. "They were never my friends.”

“They never deserved your friendship,” he said quietly, his voice full of conviction. “You were always just too good to them. You didn’t deserve that, Y/N. Not from anyone.”

You sniffed, wiping your eyes, but the hurt wasn’t going away. It felt like a weight on your chest that was too heavy to bear. You felt exposed—vulnerable. You had always tried so hard to be there for people, but in the end, they had all just taken what they could get and left you empty.

“But why did I have to find out this way?” you asked, your voice soft and broken. “Why couldn’t they just be honest with me from the start?”

San’s arms tightened around you again, his hand running soothingly up and down your back. “Because people who don’t know how to appreciate what they have, they always take. And when they take everything, they leave you with nothing.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. The anger was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been before. It was more of a dull ache now. The betrayal was fresh, and it still hurt—but somehow, with San holding you, with him comforting you, it didn’t seem as insurmountable. He made you feel like maybe things could be okay again, eventually.

“You don’t have to be alone in this,” San whispered, his voice full of a tenderness you weren’t used to hearing. “Not anymore. You’ve got me, Y/N. You’ve always had me.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him, your teary eyes meeting his. There was so much unspoken in the air, so many things left unsaid, but somehow, the silence between you both felt like an unbreakable bond. The pain, the rawness—it was still there, but there was also something else.

Something deeper.

“You’re the only one who’s ever really been there for me,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you met his gaze. “I don’t want to lose you, San. Please don’t let me go. I… I need you.” You whimper out.

San’s hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the fresh tear that had fallen. His gaze softened, but there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes. He took a slow, steady breath, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he spoke.

“Y/N, you don’t ever have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

You felt a little comforted by his words, but the storm inside of you wasn’t quite over yet. As you closed your eyes and leaned into him once more, the weight of everything that had happened—the hurt, the betrayal, the anger—still lingered like an invisible cloud. It wasn’t gone. And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, it was hard not to wonder…

San’s hand stroked your hair as you leaned into him, your head resting against his chest. “Let’s go to bed,” he murmured. “I’ll be here with you. No matter what happens, I’ll be right here.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion beginning to catch up with you. It wasn’t just physical fatigue—it was emotional, the weight of everything you had experienced tonight. And yet, despite it all, you felt a sense of peace settle over you as you allowed yourself to let go of the fear, just for a moment.

“I love you, Choi San..”

“I love you too, my perfect angel...”

As San tucked you into his side, he gave you a kiss on your forehead and then a peck on your lips., your mind wandered back to earlier—to the betrayal, to the hurt, to the people who had never deserved your trust. But now, lying next to him, feeling his warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

you realized that maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself trust again...

[mearpsdyke]

no one has to know (what goes on between us)

Summary: answers to the question "are True Damage's Ekko and soloist singer Jinx dating?" may vary depending on who you ask. (Band/Fake Dating AU)

A/N: AO3 hates timebomb so i'm being forced to post this directly on tumblr. oh well. tysm to vik for betaing the fic and being the inspiration behind sassy gay kayn<3

as a general warning this has very explicit smut towards the last 5k words, so maybe skip this fic if that's not your thing.

Ekko thinks, not for the first time since this meeting started, that he should quit music and move to the countryside for some peace and quiet.

The marketing guy is still droning on and on about merch sales and stream statistics, Ekko hasn’t been paying attention for the better part of the hour. He’s fidgeting with the pencil in his hands, intently avoiding the sight of the blue haired woman sitting across him, who’s shamelessly painting her nails.

He doesn’t know much about Jinx; she signed with the label around the same time as him, and although she’s also from Zaun, he doesn’t really know her, which is saying something, since everyone knows everyone in the lanes.

At most, Ekko follows her on Instagram, out of some kind of solidarity with her, something, something “people who come from the lanes oughta stick together”—in reality, he thinks she's quite hot. Likes her posts like he's being paid for it.

Of course, that's between him and god.

The marketing guy—he looks like a Jimmy, Ekko thinks—is still speaking. Ekko is barely listening.

“In short, we saw a spike in streams and social media interactions after the gala; our numbers had been steady, not to say stagnant, for quite some time so this new surge in activity caught our attention,” Maybe-Jimmy says, pushing his glasses up to his nose, sounding suspiciously upbeat.

That catches his attention.

Ekko reluctantly peels his gaze off the ground to look at him, silently wondering what that has to do with Jinx’s presence.

Ekko glances towards his manager, sitting next to him, who’s nodding along, sporting a serious face. He’s the only one that seems to be paying attention—well, besides Jinx’s manager, he supposes. Jinx herself is still busy painting her own nails in two different colors, humming a tune.

“So, as per the CEO’s request, we’ve devised a marketing plan to make both of your streams and merchandise sales go up,” he says, finally going to the point, and Ekko has a faint feeling that he’s not going to like whatever they’re about to propose to him. “Since the spike in interactions happened due to dating rumors between the two of you, we figured it would be a good idea for you to pretend to be in a relationship for some time, at least until after we drop both of your respective albums.”

That snaps Jinx’s head up faster than anything else he’s said this whole meeting, with her hands freezing mid-air. A droplet of pink nail polish falls to the pristine white wood.

Ekko’s mouth hangs open, incredulously looking at Maybe-Jimmy.

“What?” They say at the same time. Their gazes meet each other, twin bewildered looks on their faces.

“That’s your genius strategy?” Ekko questions, unsure if he’s offended that this took an hour of his life he could’ve used to finish his new song, or at the ridiculous idea itself.

“I know I said I would eat my own hands before doing any more Tik Tok challenges,” Jinx says, a pleading tone in her voice. “But I’d really trade doing those challenges instead of this—this stupid shit.” She turns to look at him. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he mutters reluctantly.

Maybe-Jimmy just smiles nervously and clasps his hand over the table.

“The CEO personally green lighted this strategy, so, there’s not much neither of you can do. It’s stated in your contract.” He gives them an apologetic look, but it sure doesn’t feel like he’s sorry at all. Bastards, all of you, Ekko thinks.

This is all, probably, some sort of divine punishment from the universe or god himself for that one time he accidentally leaked one of the songs on their sophomore album before it was finished, and it went viral when a rival group covered it. Akali is still mad about it.

He looks across the table to his new fake girlfriend, who’s speaking in hushed whispers with her manager, an intimidating tall woman with a face tattoo that reads VI, clearly angry at the whole ordeal. He’s not so happy about it either, but at least he has the decency to not look like he’s been given a death sentence.

In hindsight, this is all Qiyana’s fault.

She was the one that went around the Grammys after party filming everything for her vlog, and “accidentally”—Ekko still thinks it was on purpose—caught the two of them trailing behind the other, disappearing behind two heavy doors. What the public didn’t know is that those doors lead to the bathrooms, though it didn’t take long for them to figure it out. The internet was relentless afterwards, spurred on by all the stupid likes Ekko left on Jinx’s posts on Instagram.

Thirsting after Jinx was, probably, the other thing that caused this.

The dating rumors were frankly outlandish; just because they both came from Zaun doesn’t mean they were lovers before fame, he didn’t even know her. But whatever, he guesses the label is desperate enough for a new hit to pull this sort of thing.

As he’s leaving the conference room, he looks one more time towards Jinx, who’s hastily blowing on her nails.

“We’ll reach out soon to coordinate a first appearance together,” Ekko’s manager, Viktor, says, ever the efficient man.

Jinx’s manager offers a tight lipped smile, hastily putting away the nail polish back on Jinx’s purse.

“We’ll be at your disposal,” she answers, placing her hand on Jinx’s back to hurry her outside the room.

Ekko silently follows Viktor, who’s complaining about lazy marketing and cheap strategies like this, though he says nothing about advocating for him and convincing the team to drop this idea; Ekko knows as well as Viktor that his contract was drafted by Satan himself, and going against it is impossible.

He pointedly does not tell his bandmates about it. They have questions about the meeting they were not allowed to go to, but he's tight lipped.

The more he can pretend this isn’t happening, the better.

*

Jinx loves Violet. This is a fact as true as the sky being blue.

Jinx, also, hates Violet. These two statements don't negate the other if one takes into account they are, after all, sisters.

“Are you serious, Violet?! This is why I never tell you shit!” Jinx screeches, once they’ve locked themselves in one of the many soundproof recording studios.

Vi doesn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. She’s grinning like a mad woman, the fucking bitch.

“Look, I was tired of you telling me how hot you think he is and then doing nothing about it! Besides, I didn’t tell the marketing people to pitch that idea to the CEO, just suggested it. That was all their doing.”

Jinx takes out one of her shoes and throws it in Vi’s direction.

Another thing that’s, sadly, pretty much true, is that Jinx drools over Ekko. She has eyes, okay, and they function.

Unfortunately, when men are so handsome that just by looking at their pictures one gets hot and bothered, they're also, like fucking clockwork, huge assholes.

Jinx would know, she has a knack for dating them.

“One of these days you're going to disappear under mysterious circumstances,” Jinx says, ominous.

Vi smirks, lounging on the sofa like a cat.

“You should thank me,” she says, “the guy might actually be a decent one, I've heard some stuff about him. Dating him could be fun.”

Jinx pauses, considers it—then throws the other shoe towards her sister’s face either way.

*

Their first fake date happens two days later, because Viktor will be damned if he ever stops being quick and efficient.

For what it’s worth, it’s a nice spot, the kind Ekko would choose were he taking a possible partner on a date, which means Viktor knows more about him than he’s supposed to and he has to take him out from his close friends’ story—again.

Jinx is fashionably late, arriving five minutes after him, and she makes a comment about that being her manager’s doing; she would’ve arrived half an hour late if it weren’t for her, who hurried her in getting ready.

To her credit, Jinx put a decent amount of effort in her appearance; her pleated black skirt is what Ekko would consider dangerously short, wearing fishnet stockings under it. A white crop top that reads women hate me, fish fear me gains a confused chuckle from him, and she’s wearing the tiniest hint of make-up, since all the attention is on her signature twin braids; today she added gold charms to them, rings and butterflies catching his eye. All in all, she looks good, really good.

Besides sighing because she's pretty and all of this is fake, Ekko feels flattered that she put this much effort—but also, he’s embarrassed. More embarrassed than anything, actually.

Ekko is underdressed, compared to her; he put on his most comfortable jeans with a plain black shirt under his green hoodie. At least he has his gold rings and tiny earrings to appear more put together.

And he's handsome. He knows that much, so his face always pulls the look together despite all. He hears his female band mates mock him for his ego in the back of his mind.

They get their order delivered in no time, and Jinx laments not having brought her lipstick to retouch herself.

“Are you always running late to places?” Ekko wonders out loud, lazily stirring his coffee. Jinx takes a long sip of her mango milkshake, leaving the straw with a wet pop before answering.

(Ekko does not fixate on her plump lips. Nope.)

“Only to first dates I don’t care about,” she answers, a faux innocent smile dangling from her lips before she digs in on the pastries she ordered.

Ekko snorts. “Yeah, I’m not thrilled about this… arrangement, either.” He leans on his elbows, watching as she licks the frosting off her fingers. On a normal date, he’d make a sly comment about table manners, but it’s not like this is a real date, so he can’t be bothered.

Jinx looks at him, offended, and gasps dramatically.

“But I’m such a funny, awesome, hot girl,” she says, clasping a hand over her chest. Ekko stifles a laugh. “Honestly, you’re so lucky. You wouldn’t even have a chance with me if it weren’t for this PR shit.” Jinx tosses her hair over her shoulder, fixing him with a cocky grin.

Ekko scoffs, indignant. “As if I would give you the time of day. I got nominated as one of the sexiest men alive last year.”

“But you didn’t win ‘sexiest man alive’, did you now?” Jinx quips through mouthfuls of lemon pie. “And either way, when the press gets ahold of the paparazzi pics the label staged, I’ll make sure my manager tells everyone you pursued me.” Her cat-like smile only grows, and Ekko almost snaps his optic nerves rolling his eyes.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he says, sipping on his coffee. Jinx smiles as though he’s given her a compliment.

“Why, thank you, it’s my pleasure.”

Jinx keeps on devouring her lemon pie slice, Ekko’s brain starts plotting his own disappearance and the location of the dairy farm he’ll buy the day he finally snaps and throws fame into the blender, because here he is, sitting on a café with one of the prettiest women in the industry, and he's bickering with her instead of flirting and making this thing look more real.

They don’t talk much afterwards, just sipping on their drinks. At some point, Jinx gets frosting all over her lips and childishly licks them to clean them up instead of using a napkin, like any sane person would. Ekko groans, taking her chin between his hands and bringing a napkin to clean the remnants of the frosting.

She’s grinning at him, wiggling her brows as she teases him. Ekko stifles a laugh.

He hears a camera go off somewhere.

The photo of him cleaning Jinx’s lips is up on the internet before the fake date even ends, and the True Damage group chat goes off.

[Qiyana] sent one attachment

[Qiyana] ??? EXPLAIN

[Senna] YOU FINALLY DID SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR CRUSH????

[Akali] fucking HATE YOU couldnt u wait longer u just lost me $100

[Yasuo] fucking LOVE YOU i just won $100

Not for the first time, Ekko leaves the group chat, deciding to protect his peace of mind, if only until they’re due for rehearsals.

Jinx keeps on eating her lemon pie, ignoring the world, and fixes Ekko with a smile.

“So, what’s your zodiac sign?”

*

So, maybe Ekko isn’t an asshole. But he’s not off the hook, yet.

“I don’t know, Vi. I'm still not convinced he's not another womanizer. Looking like that he could have any woman he wanted,” Jinx complains, hanging upside down from her aerial silks. “Besides, he’s a libra with a scorpio rising.”

Vi hums, definitely not paying her attention, while she types away at her phone.

“Every famous guy is a womanizer unless proven otherwise, despite what astrology may say,” she tells her, “I know it's not helpful, but I’ve heard generally good things about the guy. I have a friend of a friend who’s on all of his private accounts, and they came back clean.”

“Mhm.” Jinx hesitates, chewing on her lips. “Any exes?”

Okay, so maybe she wishes she hadn’t asked that, because Vi pulls profile after profile, and all the women she shows her are so pretty her self-esteem drops. No wonder he’s so wound up about their arrangement; Jinx doesn’t hold a candle to the previous women he dated—publicly, at least.

Jinx huffs, letting herself fall from the silks, somehow landing on her feet. Rehearsal is finally over and she can finally get a good shower.

She absent-mindedly starts thinking about her outfit for the next red carpet as she drinks water, and an idea pops in her mind.

“Hey, Vi,” she says, trying to sound casual. “Do you know if True Damage is invited to the AMAs?”

“Well, I’d hope so. They’re nominated for collaboration of the year for that song they made with Heartsteel. Why?” Vi doesn’t look up from her phone, typing away a message.

She's always on that damn phone now, Jinx thinks, sounding too much like Vander. Ew.

“Oh, I just had a brilliant idea.”

*

See, red carpets are Ekko’s thing. He knows he’s handsome, his stylist loves him, and so does the press. It’s just his space to shine.

This time, though, things are different.

True Damage always matches their color scheme for red carpets; it makes sense to do so, as a band. Tonight, however, he’s the only one that’s not in the same color scheme, and that has an obvious explanation: Jinx.

Per Viktor and Vi’s request, they hard launched the relationship through an Instagram story, some two weeks ago; a selfie huddled up together on Jinx’s couch was all that was needed to add fuel to the ongoing fire that had started during their first date.

This was after a couple more dates, some more staged paparazzi photos, and ominous tweets. To the public, they had been dating for roughly three months, give or take.

Ekko had come over to Jinx’s apartment just to take that photo; she had received him in way more casual clothes than he had ever seen her, a worn grey shirt with a corny quote on the chest and biker shorts. Her hair was loose, and boy did she have lots of it. Ekko thought, in the back of his mind, that she looked better like this.

She made him all but lay on her sofa, then threw herself over him, like this was something they always did.

“Don’t give me that face,” she said, cheek pressed flush against his chest. Ekko’s breath hitches in his throat, but he tried not to show it. “You look like you’re scared of hot women, c’mon, pretty boy, put on a smile for the camera.”

“You’re a menace,” he huffed, willing his cheeks to not redden. Jinx cackled, evil and hearty and a melody to his ears.

(No. Wait, fuck.)

So. Anyway.

It had been a short affair. They took several pictures (because Jinx needed to make sure she looked good) and once they settled on one, the matter was all but solved. And he should’ve left, really; but Jinx commented something about wanting to watch a movie now that she bought an instant popcorn machine, and nonchalantly asked if he wanted to stay over for it.

Jinx had asked him to stay in a nonchalant tone, and nothing in her demeanor told him this had to be something they did for an audience, like the dates or the photos; it was just a casual hang out. So, what the hell, sure, he stayed over, and it wasn’t as awkward as he had thought it would be.

At some point, Jinx’s head ended up resting against his shoulder and he allowed it. It wasn’t half bad.

They hadn’t seen each other since then, sporadically texting as the awards approached to update the other on how their outfit was coming along.

It was a pity, really. Jinx was growing on him, if only because her sharp tongue and clever mind amused him to no end.

“Who would’ve thought a girlfriend was all you needed to ditch the boring basic suits,” Qiyana teases, as they keep on walking down the red carpet.

“Too bad it goes against our color scheme, though,” Senna laments, fixing her gown’s trail.

Ekko, almost by instinct, wants to tell them to fuck off, but he can’t blurt out, defensively, that Jinx is not his girlfriend, not really, because the place is packed with reporters and paparazzi, and he’s sure Viktor would kill him with his bare hands if he shot down their entire operation before it truly begins to take off.

He just huffs, adjusting the jacket over his shoulders. While Yasuo is wearing a normal red, white and black suit, following the color scheme of their female colleagues, Ekko sticks out like a sore thumb—almost literally. The purple of the jacket draped over his shoulders is the same tone as a bruise (Jinx had adamantly insisted on that description for the shade of purple she wanted him to wear. It had been a pain in the ass to get it right), his white linen shirt is halfway open, showing the world his pectorals and part of the abs he had so painstakingly worked out for. His pants were the same bruising shade of purple, and although they were specifically tailored for him, he couldn’t stop feeling uncomfortable.

It wasn’t really the suit itself the issue, more so who he was wearing the suit for.

Jinx is a beautiful woman, she has her charm; he’s just pissed at the label for forcing them to do this instead of thinking of another type of marketing campaign. His bandmates had told him he was, probably, the first man to ever complain about having to date a hot woman half of the industry wanted. It wasn’t about Jinx being hot, more so about his autonomy, or whatever the fuck.

They’re almost at the end of the red carpet when Akali tugs on his jacket, forcing him to stop. He turns to look at her, confused.

“Look who just arrived,” she cheekily says, pointing with her chin to the opposite way.

Ekko knows, before he even looks, that it’s Jinx. He straightens his stance, then bids his friends goodbye before going to look for her.

The moment he sees her, his brain sort of short circuits—which is probably not good (or is it?) because there are a fuckton of paparazzi milling about.

She’s wearing a two piece set; her purple butterfly top has long flowy sleeves attached to it, giving the illusion of a cape, and the skirt goes all the way to the floor, with the draped fabric making her look like an ancient statue. The holographic fabric of the garment is sparkly, catching the light of all the cameras pointing her way. Her hair is intricately braided up in a high ponytail, with braids framing her face and pinned up to the ponytail, with her usual gold hair charms.

She looks so beautiful, his heart starts beating in his ears and something like want starts bubbling in his veins. Which is not good (or is it?) because they’re not really a thing.

Jinx catches sight of him and trots up to meet him, the sunniest smile ever on her face.

“Darling!” She says, throwing herself in his arms. He puts her hands on her hips almost by instinct, while she wraps her arms around his neck. The wave of flashes that follows almost blinds him.

“You look gorgeous,” Ekko says, not without difficulty. Jinx smiles, giggling.

“Thank you, you clean up nicely, too.” She winks at him, letting go of his neck, patting his pecs. Her touch, light as a feather, has his skin burning. “Come on, pretty boy. We gotta give them a whole photo shoot.”

Oh. Right. This is fake.

*

Jinx’s performance goes without a hitch, and through it all she wonders what Ekko thought of it (later, she’ll find that his stunned face while looking at her on her aerial silks flooded social media. It outshone the fact that True Damage didn’t win for collaboration of the year).

When the awards are done, she has an invitation from her friends Ezreal and Kayn on stand-by to come to Heartsteel’s after party, but she’s pretty sure she pulled a muscle while performing, so she opts for heading home.

She knows Kayn and Ezreal will probably berate her for skipping; they’ve been wanting to get all the hot details about her (allegedly, because they did not believe it) fake relationship with Ekko in person, so there was no way she could hang up on them once she grew reluctant to answering their questions.

“Everyone in the industry wants to know how that happened,” Kayn had drawled one time over the phone. “You got your claws on him before Miss Fortune, girl, I heard she was fuming.”

Jinx had paused her skincare routine to stare at the screen, like Kayn could see her bewildered expression.

“Ekko rejected Sarah?”

That didn’t sound correct. Sarah “Miss” Fortune was the music industry’s hot girl; everywhere she went she left a trail of broken hearts. She fit Ekko’s type down to the nail—so what happened?

“Mhm. Like, a fuckton of times. She’s proper obsessed with him since they did that song together, was it two years ago? Either way. I’d watch my back if I were you.”

That call had ended with Jinx more lost than ever, wondering if Ekko’s standards were too high in the sky or if maybe Sarah was properly crazy.

Either way, Jinx didn’t want to find out.

She’s making her way to the parking lot where her driver is waiting for her, when she hears someone call out her name. Ekko.

Jinx turns around, looks at him as he’s still running up to meet her. It’s so unfair that he’s so pretty he looks like he’s in a slow-motion montage, running up a hill to meet his beloved as his locks bounce in the air and fall beautifully on his face, the jacket on his shoulders unmoving.

(She has got to lay off the rom-coms, okay.)

“Hey Jinx,” he says, catching his breath. He pushes the locks out of his face in a motion that’s stupidly sexy. “Are you going to any after parties? Viktor said—”

“Oh, no, actually, I’m going home,” she interrupts him, hugging herself. The night is chilly, and her outfit isn’t the best for the cold. “I pulled a muscle during my performance.”

“Oh.” Ekko looks disappointed, and an awkward silence stretches on for too long.

Jinx clears her throat. “You wanted something else?” She inquires, a playful lull in her voice.

She’s probably seeing things, but she’s at least 90% sure she saw Ekko’s cheeks heat up. Oh?

“Um, not really. I think I’ll just—wait.” He takes off the jacket, draping it over her shoulders. Jinx’s breath catches in her throat—she wasn’t expecting that. “You looked cold…” Ekko evades her gaze, Jinx smiles.

His scent engulfs her; his perfume is something earthy, with notes of vanilla. She likes it.

“Thank you, Ekko,” she says, sincerely. Ekko just nods. “I’ll see you ‘round.”

Jinx turns on her heels to go back to searching for her car, and steals a glance towards Ekko at the last second.

“You could’ve just texted me!” She exclaims cheekily, before hopping on the car.

Inside, she buries her nose against the fabric, relishing in the smell. It’s so distinctly him, it almost feels like he’s actually hugging her instead of the jacket.

If she returns it two weeks later, after having sprayed it with her own perfume, well that’s her business, not anyone else’s. Shut up, Vi.

*

To deny Ekko is jealous would be like trying to deny that water is wet.

And, okay, Jinx is not his, exactly, despite what the world currently thinks. But they’re not supposed to be seen with other people, being flirty and all that; it could leak, and then the cheating scandal would overshadow everything else.

There’s men that approach her, obviously, and Ekko’s not egotistical enough to think everyone knows who they are, so he always tugs her closer, pinches his features just the slightest bit so that anyone can see she’s taken (in theory).

They’re at—someone’s party. Is it Ezreal’s birthday party? Or just a common party? Fuck knows, honestly. But it’s definitely a Heartsteel party. Half of Hollywood and the music industry is here, to begin with.

Including one of Jinx’s many asshole exes (who the fuck invited him?).

“Real asshole, that one was,” Jinx says, taking a long sip from her wine for good measure, pointing with her chin towards Finn.

No last name, just Finn. A last name wasn’t really needed when you’re one of the industry’s most famous producers.

Finn is across the room, but their gazes come to meet almost my accident. His eyes fixate on Jinx, and his blood simmers in his veins when he shoots her a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ekko says, dragging Jinx the opposite way.

Jinx is not his, but Ekko still keeps his arm around her waist. You know, for safety.

“Are you feeling bold today, pretty boy?” Jinx asks through giggles, a stray drop of wine falling on the side of her lip.

See, this is the part where Ekko wipes the remnants of alcohol away from her mouth, says something flirty and leans down to capture her lips in a kiss. That is how it would go in normal circumstances, at least.

But nothing with Jinx is normal, basically. So he kind of just squeezes her waist with all the self-control he can manage, keeping her close for a good while, definitely not brushing his thumb across the exposed skin of her waist, not thinking about how good she looks in her red two piece outfit, with the dangerously short skirt and the top that looks more like a bra.

He’s not thinking about it because they’re in public, and he’s a law abiding citizen who’s trying to not get arrested for public indecency. Thank you very much.

At some point Jinx runs off to talk to her friends, but he decides to stay put, waving away her confused expression in favor of letting her hang out alone with them. For one, he’s not Ezreal and Kayn’s biggest fan; their last collaboration happened thanks to Janna’s grace and Ekko’s self-restraint, because those two gave the rest of the band members a run for their money when it came to huge egos—how Jinx is friends with them is beyond him. Second, he saw Zeri somewhere, anyway, and he’s been meaning to catch up with his old friend from the lanes.

Of course, he should’ve known hanging out with Zeri is no better than hanging out with his band mates, because he’s a fucking idiot and told her about the arrangement.

And he may also have mentioned he thinks Jinx is hot, but that’s hardly news.

“I actually can’t stand you, you know,” Zeri says, the cigarette trapped between her fingers slowly dying out. “Why don’t you just take her on a real date? Seriously, dude, for someone with such an ego…”

“I don’t think she’s interested, not really, to be honest,” he replies, stealing the cigarette from Zeri. He gets an indignant yelp in response. “Trust me, I would know.”

Zeri scoffs. “You know shit about feelings, boy savior.”

Ekko swats her arm, like when they were kids and fought over who got to eat the last piece of candy. And Zeri’s twenty-six, a whole copyright lawyer for famous singers, but she still pushes him back, play fights for a bit.

Another cigarette is lit, and then promptly stolen. Zeri kind of just rolls her eyes and tells him something between gritted teeth, probably “As long as you don’t keep stealing my lighters.”

“I think you should try your luck with her,” she says, clearer this time. “Worst case scenario she rejects you and you make it awkward. Best case, Viktor and the label will milk out your new real relationship for all it’s worth.”

“Mm, no, that’s still the worst case scenario.” He takes a long drag, blows out the smoke in Zeri’s direction. “I do have to find her, though, we said we’d leave at this hour. Maybe you should find your girlfriend and leave, too.”

Ekko shoots her a shit-eating grin, turns on his heels. “Seraphine is not my girlfriend!” She squeals.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he replies.

*

Jinx likes to think, more often than not, that if something were to happen between Ekko and her, well, it’s not like she would mind.

She can’t blame the few glasses of wine she’s had when she looks at Ekko, wearing those black jeans and the shirt with the cropped armpits that give her a great view of his toned arms, and thinks it’s unfair all of this is fake.

She thinks she’d like to know how his lips taste, but that would probably make things awkward; Jinx’s dug around, asked questions, and she’s definitely not the kind of girl Ekko goes for, not at all. As if comparing herself side by side with his exes wasn’t enough proof.

“I’ll get the car, wait for me here,” Ekko says, letting go of her waist. Jinx feels like something’s missing, but she doesn’t dare linger much on it.

She’s touching up her make-up, the music a far-away dream thrumming under the soles of her shoes, when she hears footsteps approaching.

Before she sees him, she smells the cologne.

Olfactory memory is such a strange thing, she thinks in that decimal of a second it takes her to detect the smell. She hasn’t smelled that cologne in more than a year, close to two, and yet by the peculiarity of it she knows, without a fraction of a doubt, who is wearing it.

“My, oh my, look what we got here.”

Jinx ignores him. Doesn’t dignify him even with a flinch of her body.

“What, you can’t say hello to an old friend?”

Silence. That gets him on his nerves.

Finn walks around her, comes to stand right in front of her field of vision.

“Your new boy-toy abandoned you already?” His cat-like smile holds venom in it, and Jinx grinds her teeth until she’s sure she’s broken a few molars.

“Fuck off.”

He smiles wider, the bastard. Finn always enjoyed riling her up, and the thrill of make-up sex made her think it was fine back then, but now she’s seeing red.

“I wouldn’t abandon you, you know—”

“No, you’d just cheat on me,” Jinx says, cold. Detached.

Finn hisses, as if he’s been cut. If it was up to Jinx, she would’ve tried to pluck his eyes out with her stiletto nails already.

“You know it was a mistake.”

Jinx should be canonized as a saint, quite frankly, because she’s not sure where she got the patience to hold back and not kill him.

Part of the reason she doesn’t snap, though, is the car that comes to a stop in front of them.

Ekko emerges from the car, frown in full display as he comes to stand next to Jinx. His hand flies back to her waist, protectiveness in full force as he tugs her to his side, presses her flush against him.

If something twists in her stomach, that’s between Jinx and god.

“Do we have a problem here?” Ekko asks, twisting his face into a scowl.

Finn’s smile disappears, fixing Ekko with a pinched expression.

“You’re the new replacement, I assume.”

“And you’re the asshole who cheated on her with your secretary.”

If looks could kill, Ekko would be dead on the pavement already, and Finn would’ve probably been cut in half.

Jinx wishes she had popcorn. It’s kind of hot when two handsome men fight over you, if she’s being honest here.

Finn scoffs, taking a step forward. “Don’t get smart with me, boy, I’ll ruin your career in the blink of an eye.”

“Like you ruined yours with that pathetic excuse of an album you put out?” Ekko retorts, venom in his smile. Finn’s face twists in a wild expression. “Leave us the fuck alone.”

Jinx’s heart is thrumming against her ears, because no one speaks to Finn like this, no one has the nerve.

No one except Ekko.

Finn snarls, lounges forward to grab Ekko by the collar, but Ekko grabs his hand before he can even touch him.

“Do. Not. Even think about it,” he says, low and threatening. Without letting go of Jinx’s waist, Ekko grips Finn’s wrist and pulls him forward in one tug. Hot. “Here’s what’s going to happen: you’ll leave us the fuck alone, I’m getting in the car with her, and none of this gets out to the press. Okay? Great chat.”

He tosses Finn aside, like a discarded cigarette butt, and hastily walks towards the car. He opens Jinx’s door first when—

“She’s still mine,” Finn exclaims behind them. “Half of that bitch’s catalogue is mine. I own her, and it’s only a matter of time before she’s back with me—”

Ekko closes the car door, locks it, and spins on his heels to punch Finn straight in the jaw.

It’s a quick, sharp punch that sends him flying backwards, clearly having not expected Ekko to retaliate. A surprised gasp leaves Jinx, but she can’t do anything with the door locked.

She sees as Ekko towers over Finn, says something she doesn’t quite catch, and he hastily turns around to climb back in the car.

When he grips the steering wheel, she realizes his knuckles are red.

“He got what was coming for him,” Ekko says, nonchalantly.

All Jinx can hear is a faint buzzing in her ears, reeling from the brief yet charged encounter.

Finn’s words ring in her ears: she knows he doesn’t want her, not really, he just doesn’t like that someone else has her now. He’s a little kid, upset that someone else picked up the toy he mistreated, the toy he discarded, and needs to flaunt his power by trying to yank the toy from the other person’s hands.

It had always been like that during their relationship, which lasted more than it should have because Jinx never knew what a healthy relationship looked like, so she figured as long as she’s not bruised up, how bad can it be?

(Bad. Very, very, very bad.)

“Ekko.”

“Mhm?”

There’s a million things Jinx can say to express her gratitude, but her brain has shut off for the night.

“That was hot,” she says, and this time she can blame the wine. “I mean, um, thank you for—you know.”

Ekko swerves, clearly having not expected that.

“Uh, you’re welcome?” He turns to look at her, cheeks flushed and something wild in his gaze, not the kind of violent wild like Finn, more like, amused wild? Fuck knows.

There’s a pregnant silence that follows. Then, Ekko breaks it.

“What was he talking about, by the way? When he said half of your catalogue is his. That can’t be true, right?”

Jinx sucks in a breath, oh boy. “It is true.”

She proceeds to tell him the footnotes of it, because there’s not enough time in the day to tell him everything.

The footnotes are this: Jinx is stupid. Stupid enough to allow someone she’s dating to produce her first two albums. Stupid enough to not read the contracts she signs thoroughly, because she was convinced her boyfriend would never fuck her over.

Then he fucked her over, not once but twice, and now he’s rich all thanks to her albums.

“I’ve talked with my lawyers, there’s practically nothing I can do,” she laments, flopping back against the seat.

Ekko’s silent, rhythmically tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“I have a friend who’s a copyright lawyer, she’s a master at finding loopholes,” he says, stealing glances towards her. “You know Seraphine, right? Bubblegum pink hair, pop singer. She was Seraphine’s lawyer when she sued her old label for ownership of her masters.”

Jinx whistles. Of course she knows Seraphine, her case had been quite a controversial one; nobody expected her to win against a vampiric company like Piltover Records, known for fucking over their artists one way or another. And then she won the whole thing, to the whole world’s surprise.

Her lawyer had become famous overnight, another kid from the lanes who made it out.

“You’re friends with Zeri? Really?”

“Yup. Been friends forever, we grew up together in the lanes. I could give you her number, if you’d like,” he tentatively says, to which Jinx nods enthusiastically. He then stops the car at a red light.

It’s at the red light that she realizes she has no idea where they’re going.

She looks out of the window, trying to pin-point where they are, but nothing rings a bell, so, they’re driving around aimlessly.

“Where are we going?” She asks, tone casual.

Ekko shifts in his seat. “Uh, I dunno. I just wanted to lose Finn, I think we’re near my place, actually.”

Jinx perks up, a bad idea popping in her mind as her stomach twists.

“You know, it takes a lot of courage to stand up to him like that,” she starts, shifting in her seat so that her body is angled towards Ekko, tucking her knees under her body. “He’s like, really important.”

“He’s an asshole, is what he is,” Ekko spats, turning the engine on again. “Why did you even start dating him, anyway?”

Jinx tries not to smile, weighing her words instead. “You probably don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, I do. I never could figure out how a girl like you ended up with a guy like him.”

A girl like her. What does that even mean? What kind of girl is Jinx? Is it a compliment or an insult? No, a compliment, obviously. Ekko wouldn’t be cruel.

She sighs dramatically, looking at her nails like they’re the most interesting thing on the planet. “If you must know… It all started because we hooked up once, actually. And, okay, yeah, he’s an asshole. But by god he knew what he had to do in bed. Pity, really, that it didn’t work out.”

Ekko almost crashes the car. Jinx holds back a devilish laugh.

He clears his throat, centering the car back to its respective lane while she just bats her eyelashes innocently. She sees the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down, as he grips the steering wheel until the veins in his hands are noticeable.

Jinx didn’t think it’d be this easy to get him worked up. She thought he’d feign nonchalance, and she’d have to bring out the salacious details to get a rise out of him.

Maybe it’s so easy because he likes you already, she thinks, twisting her own stomach in knots. God, I hope so.

Ekko parks the car someplace where it’s practically deserted, shooting Jinx a charged look, but she acts clueless as to what’s happening.

She knows exactly what could happen if she pushes the right button, says the right thing.

“Kind of a weird thing to tell your boyfriend, isn’t it?” He asks, furrowing his brow. Jinx’s breath hitches in her throat when she realizes the pads of his fingers are ghosting her knees.

“Oh, you’re my boyfriend now? For real, for real?” Jinx questions, voice getting breathier by the second as she leans on Ekko’s touch.

Ekko licks his lower lips, his hand now fully resting on Jinx’s knee. She fixates unabashedly on the way the muscles on his arms flex with the tiniest movement, and doesn’t move away when he inches his face closer.

“I could be, if you wanted me to,” he says, letting his hand wander to the sides of her thigh. His eyes are piercing right through her, pupils dilated as he sets his gaze on her lips.

“You’d have to submit an application like the rest,” she replies, trying to sound casual, as she shifts again to untuck her legs, ever the patient one.

“And what would that application be like?” Ekko asks, his face is so close now, his hot breath beats down on her skin, causing a shiver to go down her spine.

It would be so easy to kiss him now, smash her lips against his and fog up the mirrors with their combined breaths. But she wants to drag this moment a bit longer, to make sure Ekko wants the same thing she does, so she chews on her bottom lip, lazily dragging a hand up his legs, then up his torso, until it comes to rest on his collarbones. She sees with glee how Ekko sucks in a sharp breath, something in his eyes growing darker with want.

He wants the same thing, alright.

“You’d have to fuck me, and fuck me good,” she says, with the same tone she’d use for telling someone the weather is nice. She sees Ekko’s eyes go wide, and a self-satisfied smile sets on Jinx’s face. She tries to not let her hands tremble as she caresses Ekko’s neck. “Wanna apply now, hm?”

Ekko doesn’t reply, not verbally, at least—he dives in and captures her lips in a searing kiss, using one of his hands to pull her closer by grabbing her from the neck. Jinx gasps, whimpering against his lips as his grip tightens ever so slightly on her skin.

She wraps her arms around his neck, playing with his locks as he keeps on kissing her, biting her lower lip to gain access to her mouth. Jinx obliges, happily letting him take the lead.

He kisses her like he’s a man who’s been lost in a desert and she’s the first glass of water he’s had in months; like he’s been waiting for this, and the thought makes her head swirl with giddiness as she parts her thighs and allows him to sneak his hand further, but it’s not enough for her to have him kneading on her inner thigh, she wants more and now.

Honestly, they should be worried about paparazzi and whatnot, but it's 3 a.m. on a Wednesday and the L.A streets are deserted on this side of the city. Jinx has no qualms about pushing Ekko off of her so she can kick off her heels, slinging a leg over his seat so she’s straddling him.

Ekko looks at her through half lidded eyes, ravishing her body with his eyes. A hiss escapes his lips as she plops herself rather hard against his lap. He doesn’t let this deter him, though; seeing how little space is left between Jinx and the steering wheel, he reaches under the seat to push it back to allow for more space. Jinx’s smile grows tenfold, happy at getting her way.

“Turn off the lights,” she asks, breathless. He blindly searches the keys and turns off the engine, and soon all the lights are off. They’re only illuminated by the lampposts outside, and Jinx thinks it adds a touch of intimacy.

Soon enough their mouths find each other again, meanwhile, Ekko’s hands grab her ass, expertly bunching up her skirt until it’s crumpled at her waist. He reclines the seat, gaining a surprised yelp from Jinx as they fall forward.

“I’m deducting points for that,” she says through a fit of giggles. Ekko snorts, giving her ass a squeeze, and a whimper escapes her mouth.

“Wasn’t aware there were points.”

“Oh, there are.” She puts on a faux serious tone as she grinds down his growing hardness. Ekko throws his head back, a groan escaping his lips as he closes his eyes. “You can gain those points back, though. You know how.”

He laughs, looking at her through half-lidded eyes as he grips her hips, forcing her to move to a pace set by him.

Jinx tries to angle herself in a way that the friction hits her where she wants, desperate for some kind of release. She feels herself grow wetter by the second, heat radiating off her skin and warming up the inside of the car.

Ekko busies his mouth kissing her neck, now that this angle gives him ample reign over her milky white skin. He slightly bites the skin under her jaw, sucking gently. Jinx hisses at the contact, pressing her hands against his shoulders for support.

Suddenly, Ekko stills her. Jinx protests at the loss of friction, but he shushes her by coming up to kiss her. She feels more than sees him letting one of her hips go and using the now free hand to ghost over her panties.

Ekko stops kissing her. Opens his eyes to give her a bewildered look, and a different kind of heat crawls up Jinx’s neck.

“You made a mess already,” he says, voice filled with lust. He palms at his crotch, completely wet where Jinx had been grinding on him. Her own underwear is no better: it looks like a damp opened between her legs.

It’s entirely because she’s been wanting to fuck him since way before their first date, having unabashedly used him and his photos as jerk off material more than once. But that’s not something she’ll confess—not right now, at least.

“Um, sorry?”

“Don’t be,” he’s quick to say. A wicked smile sets on his lips, and Jinx gasps when he tugs her underwear to the side, resting his index and middlefinger against his own crotch so she can rub against them while she’s grinding on him. “It adds points, right? I’m trying to become a boyfriend here.”

Jinx sputters something unintelligible, the addition of Ekko’s fingers and the faster pace he’s setting fills the car with obscene sounds, though none more obscene than Jinx’s moans.

Oh, he knows what he’s doing.

Ekko alternates between kissing her and biting marks on her neck, and Jinx would say something about being careful with hickeys, but she’s past the point of caring if she’s having sex with her fake-boyfriend in a deserted street, let’s be honest here.

His fingers tease at her entrance when she grinds up and down, she clenches around nothing and Jinx thinks she says something like fuck me now please, but she’s too wrapped up in her own pleasure to be sure if the words came out alright instead of a garbled mess.

Ekko probably understood her incoherencies, anyway, because he stills her once more. A protest is already forming at the tip of her tongue when his fingers knead her folds.

“How am I supposed to finger fuck you properly with no space?” He asks, “Lift your hips a little for me, doll.” Jinx’s brain short circuits at the nickname and she obeys eagerly, giving Ekko all the space. He chuckles and uses his other hand to grip her neck, making her come down to kiss her hungrily. “That’s my good girl.”

She clenches around air again.

Soon enough, Ekko inserts two fingers at once, eased in by her slick-covered cunt, and Jinx hisses at the stretch. His hands have always been bigger than hers; she’s wondered before how it would feel, and, honestly, this is better than her imagination.

Ekko starts slow, giving her time to adjust, but Jinx is an impatient little shit, so she tries to fuck herself on his fingers faster, harder. Ekko stops her, going back to grip her hip, and stills inside her.

“Behave for me, can you do that? Or are you too desperate to even try?” He questions, cocking an amused brow.

Jinx’s cheeks grow hot, but she doesn’t let her embarrassment show. “I should be the one bossing your around, you’re the one submitting an app—oh, fuck.” Her complaint is cut short when Ekko keeps fingering her, looking at Jinx with a shit-eating grin.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Ekko asks, but Jinx isn’t even paying attention. She’s only aware of Ekko’s fingers curling inside her, hitting a spot that has her seeing stars behind her eyelids. “Don’t act like you want to be in control, doll, when you obey me so easily and eagerly.” Her blush probably spreads up to her chest, embarrassed at being figured out so quickly. Ekko just smiles, coming up to kiss her jaw.

“Moan for me, pretty girl, it’s like music for my ears.” Ekko punctuates this by removing the hand still gripping her to rub better at her sensitive nub.

And by god he doesn’t have to tell her twice; her moans become desperate, now that she’s free from his grip she steels herself by grabbing the sides of the seat, gyrating her hips in the same relentless pace Ekko sets.

He crooks his finger in a particular way that has her whimpering, tears dabbing at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure. He’s still sucking marks on her neck, whispering things she doesn’t quite catch against her skin.

Jinx is positively seeing stars. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to even out her breathing to prevent her orgasm from washing over her so soon, but she cries pathetically as Ekko swipes his thumb side to side, resolve crumbling as she fucks herself faster on his hand.

She’s vaguely aware of the heat pooling in her stomach, her walls clenching around his fingers, and the slight tremble of her legs. Jinx speeds up, chasing her own orgasm, but her plans are ruined when Ekko withdraws his fingers.

Her eyes snap open, gasping indignantly. “Ekko!” She half-protests, half-whines. He looks up at her, faux innocence in his features.

“What? Did you think I was gonna let you cum like that? Nah.” He pauses to regard his soaked hand, covered in Jinx’s juices up to his wrist. Jinx watches incredulous as he licks it clean; the sight is so filthy, and yet ironically heavenly. Like, she’s sure that she died and was sent straight to heaven, and Ekko fucking her mindless is her reward for all the shit she’s gone through.

His heavy gaze sets on her as he licks his digits, moaning around them. “You taste so good,” he breathes out.

“Ekko,” she starts, whining pathetically, “please. Just—fuck me, I need you to—”

He comes up to kiss her again, and she tastes her own saltiness on his lips. It sends shockwaves to her cunt.

“I want to feel you clench around my dick,” he says against her lips. Jinx is not sure if she moans because Ekko smacked her ass or at the sole thought of that. “I want you to ride me like you’ve never ridden anyone else, doll. Scream out my name while I pound you from below, that sound good?”

She wants to say something, anything, but the part of her brain in charge of forming sentences has completely shut down at this point, and so she settles for nodding enthusiastically, moaning against Ekko’s lips.

She hears more than sees Ekko unbuckling his belt, the clinging of the metal snapping her out of her haze.

Jinx sucks in a breath as she lifts herself from his lap, helping Ekko tug down his jeans and then finally slide his boxer down, freeing his neglected cock. At the back of her throat, Jinx feels a whimper trying to escape her mouth at the sight of Ekko’s cock, but she swallows it down.

She runs her own fingers through her wet cunt, eagerly collecting slick, and uses it to wrap her hand around his dick. Ekko hisses, throwing his head back against the cushion of the seat as Jinx strokes him out slowly, deliberately.

“You have no idea how much I imagined this,” he says, breathing heavily. One of his hands comes to cup the side of Jinx’s face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Hollywood’s prettiest girl on my lap, already a desperate mess from just being fingered? I can’t wait to get to my place and fuck you properly, like you deserve; have you gripping on my sheets—mh, fuck.” Filthy moans escape Ekko’s lips, interrupting his rant. He smiles crookedly as Jinx fastens her pace. “God, you’re so good at this. Just like that, baby.”

Jinx is in a trance, salivating at the sight of Ekko. His words travel straight to her cunt, feeling her clit ache to be touched; she touches herself with her free hand, trying to match the pace of the hand that’s masturbating Ekko.

Her name falls from his lips more than once, spurring Jinx on. Faintly, she really hopes nobody catches them, otherwise Vi will kill her, then resurrect her only to kill her once more but more violently.

Suddenly, she gets an idea.

With a devilish giggle, she shifts on Ekko’s lap, pressing his cock against his stomach, and he shoots her a curious look. Jinx carefully positions her cunt over his cock, sliding along the length up and down, and they both moan at the same time.

Ekko’s eyes roll back, squeezing her ass. “Careful,” he groans. “I’m gonna—fuck, Jinx.”

“Don’t come yet,” she finally manages to say. “Want you to come inside me.”

His eyes snap wide open, mouth hanging agape at her words. “Are you—?”

“Mh, Ekko, I’m so serious,” she moans. “Want you to fill me up with your cum, please.” Jinx doesn’t mention that she’s on birth control, or care to add she’s as clean as can be because she doesn’t really do hook-ups.

If Ekko has questions, he doesn’t ask them. He only licks his bottom lip, and grabs her by the hips to lift her up.

If it’s possible, it definitely turns her on even more that he’s strong enough to practically maneuver her without any trouble.

Jinx does her part dutifully, pushing her panties aside to line herself over the tip of Ekko’s cock. She looks at him straight in the eyes as she’s sinking down on him, her face contorting in a grimace that’s a mixture of pain and pleasure. She bottoms out with a piercing cry, and Ekko groans under her.

She’s so full she could cry tears of joy. Maybe she does, she’s not aware of anything that’s not Ekko’s hands on her ass, not really setting a pace but more so lingering, and his cock hitting all the right angles inside her.

Jinx leans forward, moaning in Ekko’s ear as she keeps on riding him with an erratic pace.

“Fuck, Jinx,” Ekko says her name through a whimper. Suddenly, his hands come to still her once more, and she hears her feet shuffle, planting themselves against the ground. Anticipation bubbles in her stomach as he positions himself more comfortably, and starts fucking into her from below. She screams right in Ekko’s ears, a sweet melody for him that only spurs him on.

Jinx’s body goes limp, Ekko is still holding onto her hips, moving them up and down to match his thrusts. Somewhere in her brain, she thinks Finn doesn’t hold a candle to Ekko, who has practically fucked every thought out of her head before she even sat on his cock, and now all she can think of is that she wants him morning, noon, and night.

Could’ve been doing this all day for four months by now, she thinks.

The car’s windows are all fogged up, and she’s at least 99% that if anyone were to walk by, they’d probably deduce something is going on by the way the car is shaking.

“Jinx, I’m gonna—”

“Cum inside me,” Jinx whines, “please, please, please, please. I’m so close, too.”

Ekko says nothing, just groans and picks up the pace, while Jinx’s hand flies to her clit.

If she previously felt heat in the pit of her stomach, now she feels a whole forest fire roaring inside her. Her pent up frustration at having been denied an orgasm earlier is like accelerant, helping the fire spread all through her.

Ekko feels her walls closing in on him, obviously, so he grabs her chin with his hand to force her to look at him.

“Cum for me, doll.”

That’s all it takes for her to unravel.

Jinx comes with a cry, nestling her face in the crook of Ekko’s neck, muffling her cries with the seat. Her legs tremble, threatening to give up, but Ekko’s firm grip keeps her up. He’s still thrusting into her, chasing his orgasm while he fucks her through her own, but she’s grown sensitive, so she can’t help to cry pathetically.

“Ekko, please. I can’t—”

“Do you want my cum or not, baby?” He asks through heaving breaths.

“Yes,” she answers without thinking.

“Then just—just a little more—”

His breath becomes erratic, pounding her faster, making her cry from overstimulation, until he finally snaps, coming with a low moan.

Jinx stills, catching her breath as she feels Ekko’s thick cum filling up her insides. This car is going to be so messy, a hell to clean up, but right now she thinks it’s all worth it.

They stay tangled for a moment longer, Jinx still not moving off from Ekko, catching their breaths in silence.

Then, he speaks. “Did you like my application?”

Jinx’s laughs echo in the car, “You’re such an idiot,” she giggles, pressing her forehead against Ekko’s.

He just laughs, wrapping her waist with his arms.

“Yeah, but you like me like that,” he says, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Jinx gives a long suffering sigh.

“I guess I do.”

“You ‘guess’?” Ekko shoots her an unimpressed look. “Weren’t you just begging me to cum inside you a second ago?”

“Shut up!” She cries out, indignation seeping in her tone, but she’s not mad, not really.

Ekko laughs, a honey-like sound that melts away any annoyance she could’ve been harboring.

“So,” he says, tone casual. “Are we going back to my place for round two? I still wanna put you on your back.”

Jinx thinks, for a fleeting second, she could have round two right there and then, considering he’s still, y’know, inside her. But the promise of a bed sounds too good to pass up.

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

*

When Ekko wakes up the next day in his apartment, with Jinx sprawled on top of him, he doesn’t have the heart to move her away, so he just stretches to reach for his phone on the nightstand besides him, the first notifications are from the True Damage group chat and a quick text from Viktor telling him they need to talk.

He panics, thinking they did get caught last night and someone took a photo, or worse, a video as proof.

When he opens the group chat, however, a cat-like smile blooms on his face.

True Damage’s Ekko and Shimmer Records’ star producer, Finn, get into a brawl over singer Jinx at Heartsteel party—WATCH VIDEO, reads the headline of the screenshot Yasuo sent.

He smiles, chuckling to himself, and tosses the phone aside to keep happily sleeping with Jinx—correction, his girlfriend.

As it turns out, the application on the car had been enough to turn this fake arrangement into a real one.

In the back of his mind, he makes a note to thank Maybe-Jimmy for his brilliant idea.

[iwriteasfotini]

In the morning, James woke to his very own personal space for the first time all summer. He yawned, stretching his whole body, relishing the fact Sirius wasn’t touching him with a stray leg or arm, or curled into his side. He put his glasses on, trying to shift as little as possible, and blinked through the morning light. 

Remus was blinking back at him, but all James could see of Sirius was his black hair as he was tucked into Remus’ side. 

Ah, James thought, so that’s why I was spared. 

Remus lifted his free hand and brought it to his lips to indicate quiet. Sirius must still be asleep. 

James scooted as gently and quietly as he could closer to the other two. 

“So he’s always like this then,” whispered James. 

Remus gave a small nod. 

>>><<<

The reality is... I'm apparently obsessed with bedsharing. So if you are reading a fic and EVERYONE is sleeping in each other's beds in a totally platonic way... you can be like 80% sure I wrote that fic.

But I really did write this one...

Even the Slytherins do it...

No, [James] was looking for a very specific dot, and he found it easily, though he was not pleased to see a second dot labeled Severus Snape practically overlapping with the one labeled Regulus Black. The two dots were in the third year dormitory as James recognized the names of the other dots spread around the room. None of the dots were moving, which suggested everyone was tucked into bed. 

James narrowed his eyes at the two tiny dots. This is exactly what Remus meant when he told Sirius he might not like what the map revealed. And of course, James also had some nagging guilt he was prying into Regulus’ personal business. 

If it hadn’t been for Lily, James probably would have flipped a lid. But Severus had always been Lily’s or was it the other way round? Whatever their sleeping arrangement, James doubted very much Regulus and Severus were romantically involved. He could double check with Lily, but no, for she would want to know how he came about such a bizarre assumption. 

Cursing Remus and the map itself, James folded the parchment and tucked it under his pillow. The map would come in handy eventually. It had to. 

Plus, Regulus had admitted having feelings for him mere hours ago. And James didn’t think it likely he would be baiting James for a laugh. Still, when he closed his eyes, all he could see were those two minuscule dots: Severus Snape and Regulus Black. In a disgruntled mood he turned over and tried to fall asleep.

But Severus has had enough and puts his foot down in the next work...

Chapter III of The Heart of the Lion

“Okay, Lily wants to meet tomorrow night, Room of Requirement at eight. And I think we need to back off the sleepovers this year. People keep whispering about us.” [Severus said]

“Do they? I didn’t notice,” said Regulus with a worried expression.

[rozetheeuwu]

Random ramble/thought

Okay but the idea of more than there being 1 protag going through the reborn region is so fun though.

Sure, I can have three rivals or maybe Fern sees one of us as a rival while the others not as much, same for Victoria and Cain.

Protags be each others rivals if we're going through the league, or maybe one of them didn't even go for the league and is there for different reasons. Maybe one joins team meteor at some point.

Maybe only one of them through Devon while the others explore the city and help out the gangs.

Maybe they divide missions.

One of them goes to ametrine while the other already yeets themselves down the waterfall despite the others warning them to wait for the other gets the tmx they need.

Maybe they don't travel together or are as stay close no matter what.

It's so fun.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

one of my favorite (/sarcastic but not really cuz its like funny idk) things in fandoms is when people make ocs or self inserts or 'x readers' being shipped with characters, but the oc/sona/reader is literally just another character from the source material.. its like youre shipping the characters but didnt want to admit it, so you made a kinsona and branded it as something else..

and its NEVER subtle, actually its super blatant every time and im always shocked when nobody points it out..

i have seen uncountable saiki k x readers where the description is like:

"saiki meets someone whose thoughts he cant read for the first time, and even though he doesnt trust her at first, she keeps proving that she is kind and has good intentions!" you mean nendo? reader is girl nendo?

"this time, he meets a girl whose thoughts honestly match up with her spoken words almost perfectly for the first time!" hairo. youre shipping saiki with girl hairo.

"saiki meets someone whose thoughts are too fast and jumbled to re-" ITS AKECHI, THATS AKECHI, ITS LITERALLY AKECHI.

"saiki meets someone whose just as immune to teruhashi as he is for the first and only tim-" this is hairo again, awe bae you secretly LOVE haisai ?!?

"saiki sees his old childhood friend for the first time in years after an incident caused them to be apart and then they fall in lov-" WHY DID YOU EVEN WRITE THIS AND NOT CALL IT SAIKECHI.

its even funnier when they say its like that characters little sister, but the way they write it is still literally just the character, like their personality, dialogue, even their relationship, is the same..

not all of them fit this exactly, but the ones that take a boy character and turn them into a girl oc to ship them with a boy, it reminds of how in equestria girls they couldnt make applejack and rarity endgame so they gave them boyfriends who looked IDENTICAL to each other.. thats what youre creating, guys, youre creating heterosexual rarijack.

[thelaurenshippen]

genuinely think it's good and healthy to follow at least one person in each of your fandoms who reblogs good gifsets but has just...absolutely dogshit takes on the show, or who ships that ship you despise. keeps things fresh. keeps things grounded. you gotta stay humble

[might-be-tiny-gt]

Listen to the Audio Next Chapter

Read The Story Index | First Chapter

Welcome to Chapter 1 of the TAoLaW "dramatic" reading. What can I say, the theatre kid in me needed to record this in audio format. Have I mentioned how much I love this fic? Yes? Well I'm saying it again, I LOVE THE ART OF LOVE AND WAR!!! If you haven't read it please go read it.

The Art of Love and War Is written by @fireflywritesgt and the audio reading is recorded and posted with permision.

[triglycercule]

what if because dust and horror wouldn't wanna be called anything aside from sans in a multiverse context and they were both good buddies they both just start calling eachother sans. i'm sans (dust) and i'm sans (horror) ahh duo

becaaause horror in his eye(s) still sees himself as sans!! he's sans!! who else is he SUPPOSED to be god 😒😒 stop attatching this stupid fake name onto him that just points out all his shortcomings in his au and also just dehumanizes him (because i get that aus are named after a key trait of something but COME ON the guy's name is HORROR it's like naming a poor person "brokie" or something,,,). horror is PROUDLY sans smh

and dust ALSO sees himself as sans!!! like,,, granted he's definitely not a better sans than he was before considering everything he did (but he still doesn't like his past self's inaction) but he's STILL SANS. nothing about him changed (really?) enough to warrant the whole identity shift. like dude dont discredit him DONT DENY HIS WHOLE LIFE!!! he IS sans no matter what,,, dust doesnt wanna think about what he became if he's not sans now anyways lul :3

now could they fight over the right to the identity of sans??? possibly,,, but also consider this: there are literally infinite numbers of sanses in the multiverse. at some point the shiny title of Sans would be something horror and dust are used to around the multiverse!!! so why fight over the name (that so many others share already so its not exactly exclusive) when they can just decide to make each other feel better!!! be delusional TOGETHER 🤞

[jellybeanium124]

.

[anabetel35]

Going Crazy over Vania/Harumi again. Especially Harumi's-redemtpion-arc Vania/Harumi.

Harumi who spent most of her life either acting or being driven by her hatered and anger alone. Who reached a point in her (second) life where she doesn't need to act because there is no one to decieve and where her anger has no clear target. Where she doesn't have anyone to devote herself to, to base her entire being on. A ruler of nothing but herself, with more strength than she can handle.

Vania who spent so much of her life being true to herself and acting with love and care towards everyone who came her way and didn't strike first. Who looked on as her only remaining family tried to kill her heroes, terrorized two whole nations and then tried to take over the world. Who was cast into a life where she has no one to fall back on by her side and a kingdom with twice as many people as it did during her father's rule and twice as many problems, too. A ruler of so many with so few rescources and even less experience.

Harumi who lost her family to an evil beyond the control of the ninja and who chose to pin the blame on humans and not destiny -- on beings that she knew that she could hurt if she only tried hard enough.

Vania who lost what little she had left of her family to an evil beyond the control of the ninja and who chose to pin the blame on evil itself, her father, destiny -- anything and everything, just so that she wouldn't end up hurting anyone who didn't deserve it at all.

Harumi who spent so much of her life actively choosing to hate.

Vania who spent so much of her life actively trying to love.

And then they meet. Both princesses. Both sure that they should despise each other, because they stand (or stood) for opposite things.

But then Vania's reluctant attempts at only partially judging Harumi for what she did, at being polite but not mean, turn into being kind and a bit smitten. Harumi's determination to become a good person (or someone who does some good, at least) drives her into appreaciating Vania, slowly but surely placing her on the same pedestal that she devoted to the Overlord and Garmadon before him.

Vania, raised by a single father, lonely upon an ivory throne of problems, starts to fall for the girl who gives her advice on managing a population. Who reminds her that she needs to rest in order to be as strong as she possibly can. Who teaches her to have a steady hand, somehting that she might need help with sometimes.

Harumi, someone who's never let herself be properly liked by someone so real, a love so true as Vania's, begins to adore the girl that teaches her how to be a teenager even despite their postions -- even despite the fact that one of them is a queen and the other is the ex-right hand of two evil overlords. The girl that doesn't hesitate to communicate how she feels. That offers Harumi a shoulder to lean on.

[astranauticus]

Do mechanites cry?