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dilfbane · 3 years

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It Gets Better(A Silky Pearl)

Summary: It’s been a long time since things have gotten this bad. Loki, returned from his latest mission, lets you know that, with help and support, you can overcome the worst of things, and makes sure you know that he’ll be there with you to get you through it, each and every day.

Pairing: Loki/Female Reader

Warnings: Reader in this fic struggles with eating disorders. Thoughts and feelings related to these(specifically to anorexia and bulimia), are made throughout the fic, especially those that, in my personal experience, people with these disorders experience. I cannot stress enough that this will be discussed/referenced/talked about, sometimes explicitly(Though not graphically) and sometimes implicitly, so please be aware of that and know that it’s OK to take care of yourself and skip this one if that would be triggering to you!

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I want to preface this by saying that there are a LOT of people, both here and on AO3, who have made some amazing Loki/reader oneshots where the reader is struggling with mental health and/or physical health issues, that really provide a sense of warmth and fluff and support to people who may be going through those things themselves, and I’ve taken a lot of comfort in those fics over the course of the pandemic(I’ll be shouting out a couple of them in the tags!). I want to acknowledge that these exist, and that they’re awesome and have partly inspired my own writing, before talking about this little project I’m embarking on.

Because, while I have gotten a lot of comfort out of many of those pieces of writing, there are definitely some things which I feel like aren’t talked about as much in pieces like these which I have gone through, and which a lot of other people have gone/are going through, and…. I figured that maybe I could take a crack at trying to provide that hit of fluff for people dealing with those things, if I can, and hopefully use my own experience with them to do it in as respecful and accurate a way as possible.

All that being said, the first oneshot in this little project is going to be dealing with a pretty heavy subject, that being eating disorders. The reader in this fic does struggle with eating disorders - specifically anorexia and bulimia. I will not be actively describing anything too graphic about these disorders in this fic, except to highlight through implication and some sparse details that this is what’s happening here, as well as show some of the inner thought processes of the reader, but there definitely is enough in here to show that that’s what’s going on, so if anyone would be triggered by that, please take care of yourselves and give this one a pass! Also, I will further disclaim that there are many types of eating disorders, and everyone’s experience with them is different. In this oneshot, I wrote based off what I know to have been true during the time in my life when I struggled with the same conditions, and I really tried to make the fluff and support as kind and encouraging as I possibly could. If for ANY REASON there’s something that I did badly at, or something that’s disrespectful, anyone reading this may feel more than free to let me know and I’ll do my best to fix it! I don’t want this fic to be a place where anyone feels hurt or disrespected, that isn’t my intention at all, and if I make a mistake in that regard for any reason whatsoever, I would really appreciate knowing so that I can correct it!

Anyways, after that extremely lengthy A/N, just… please know, if you’re going through something like this, that you’re not alone, that help does exist and is out there, and that you are seen and heard. And take this Loki fluff, because honestly, there can never be too much of that in the world!

You know that he worries about you. Even before his latest, three-week mission, you know that he worried about you. In the mornings, as you pour your coffee, you watch him watch you with careful nonchalance, gaze boring into the back of your head, slight furrow creasing his eyebrows, frown pulling small at his lips. He dresses early, because he wakes early; it is a battle, most mornings, for you to get out of bed. And so what, if you take your coffee with more creamer than is necessarily normal - it has to last you a long time, this coffee. You need the sugar of it, to get you to that clean pain. It is sharper, more real, than any scalpel, any knife that Loki keeps concealed by his armor; all that fine Asgardian leather, green and supple and him. It gives you back the control that you lack. Lets you be the person that you would be.

It’s not that you’re afraid of your body, but you are ashamed by it; cannot fathom, even now with his gaze on you, that Loki could love somebody so dreadfully overweight.

Today, though - Today, you had thought, you had hoped, that it might be different. You don’t know why you have that hope, but it brims up in you; a physical need, a visible yearning, for you to be enough for once. Someone that Loki can stand to look at. Someone that Loki can love. He is looking at you now like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you flinch from the frown that creases his piercing gaze, unable to bear how it roves up the planes of your body; silhoutted in the light coming in through the window, you can feel each ounce of fat that stretches over your sinew, cartilage. (You know that Loki hates your body - He traces it sometimes like he’s probing you, trying to find where your bones are. You wish that you could call him on it, and know that you never could).

You stand at the counter, and turn from him; rummage in the cabinet for your coffee mug with shaking fingers; you almost feel like they’re rubber. Blue and cold, like his Jotun skin, but you know that it isn’t enough. Pins and needles prick at them - you can almost convince yourself that it’s only your guilt and shame, but you cannot hide from the pain suffusing Loki’s voice when he speaks.

“Darling,” He says, on a shaky breath, “We need to talk about this.”

“I know -” You tell him - you know that you can’t run from this, anymore. He knows how you look, how nothing you do is fixing it. And now, he’s going to leave you. “I know, Loki - I tried, Loki, I’m so sorry -“

The agony that wells up in you threatens to overwhelm your ability to speak, and you feel your knees buckle the second before you fall. Your kneecaps slam against the cupboard underneath the sink, your head hitting the edge of the counter as you slide down hard to the floor. It hurts. But every part of your body hurts, these days. It’s as constant as your worthlessness. And something else, too -

He is there, on the floor with you, in less time than it takes place to blink, pulling you hard and desperate into his arms; you don’t understand why, and you try to wrench yourself from him, sobs bubbling up and spilling out from your tightly shut eyes. You can feel the bruises starting to form on you, a lump throbbing at your temple.

“Love,” He is saying, “Y/N, sweetheart, come back to me. Come back to me, darling, please.” He is stroking your hair; you feel his fingers at its strands, thin and brittle. God, you think, how pathetic you are - you can’t even keep yourself pretty for him, for this god and all the sacrifices that he’s made. You cry harder, unable to stop your own wailing. When you finally do, you’re exhausted - it takes everything out of you.

“Loki,” You say, on a wretched whine, “I’m so cold.”

“Hush,” He says, “You’re alright. You’ll be warm soon - We’ll sort it, darling, I promise.”

You don’t know how to tell him that it isn’t something you can sort, but somehow you know, deep in your heart, that Loki understands. Still, his voice is so sweet, and the shudders that wrack you begin to halt in the steady hold of his embrace; the tender brush of his fingers over your skin. You feel like you can look at him, now, so you do it, sucking your bottom lip into your teeth to steel yourself for the cruel things you’re certain he’ll start with. But Loki’s gaze isn’t angry at you, not full of fury or disgust. They sparkle with unshed tears and concern, emerald in the daylight. It takes you a moment too long to realize all that pain, all that worry, is for you; when you do, though, you flinch away. Feel Loki’s fingers drop from your hairline to your cheek, then your chin, tilting your head up so that you can’t run and hide.

“I’m losing you, love,” Loki says. His voice is low, and steeped in sorrow. It is his turn to look down, with guilt and shame, and you feel a pang blossom, raw and red, in your heart. He sighs, and straightens his shoulders. He is filled with some new resolution, some new determination you can’t wince away from.

“I need to know,” Loki tells you, “How long this has been going on. I need to - I need you to tell me why, love. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

“I can’t,” You say, blinking back a fresh torrent of tears, “Tell you why. It’s not - I can’t - I don’t know.”

But you know, and Loki does, too. It’s the god of lies, holding you - of course he can tell that you’re lying. It is something other, and runs deep, this bone-y reluctance. A complex game of mental gymnastics. How could you ever tell Loki about the control that it gives you, the desperation with which you used all your calorie-counting and aching restraint to regain the love that you lost? The nights bent over toilet bowls; the way that, sometimes, you empty stomach made you dig your nails hard into your palms ’til they bled, to stop yourself from crying out at the pain. And he loves you - the part of you that craves his affection, that yearns to burrow fast and fierce into Loki’s embrace and spill all your secrets to him, makes sure to remind you of that.

“Y/N,” Says Loki, soft and tender, yet infused with a note so harsh that you would wince, if you could. “You can tell me anything. You need to.”

You notice things, now, in the face of his determination. You notice that Loki is looking at you like he’s in physical pain, and that there’s something sticky and red on the pads of the fingers that brushed up against your head.

“I’m bleeding,” You say. It comes out soft, horrified.

The frown that creases Loki’s face would bring you to your knees, if you weren’t there already.

“It’s just - a thing that I do,” You tell him, too ashamed to look at his face as you reveal it. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

“That’s not enough for me, love.”

Loki’s lips are pursed tight, and the wound in his eyes has hardened to steel. The you part of your body - the fleeing part, the one who knows how to survive - seizes its’ chance and you duck out of his embrace, with far more strength than you had possessed in what felt like, potentially, years. Scrambles, backwards, like a cornered animal, over the tile floor, before heaving itself up to standing. It faces Loki, and its’ breath comes in stabbing-sharp. It is hard to remember that you have to call it ‘myself’. You feel older than you were, yesterday, and you cannot, quite, get air to come into your lungs. That’s not enough for me, you hear your lover say, ringing in your ears like a hyena’s howl.

You’re not enough for me, love. Your fingers spasm, clutching the sides of the kitchen table white-knuckled. You wonder, fleetingly, what Loki would do if you died. The thought makes you cry out in pain, a whimper ripping out from a throat rubbed fingernail-raw, but Loki does not move to stand.

“Come back to me,” He tells you, spiked with sorrow and need. And, perhaps for the first time, you admit it - to yourself, as much as to him.

“I don’t - I don’t think I know how.”

He smiles the smiole of someone who’s seen his own pain, faced his own lashing demons, and you pause to take him in fully, this god who says that he loves you, the man he is trying to be. You catch on hixs eyes, those bright emerald coins, his hair like the feathers of crows. His high, pale cheekbones, and his silver-tongue cut like glass. The pads of his fingertips, slender and cold, tender and fierce on your skin or the hilt of a dagger. You breathe in the smell of him, parchment and iron; peppermint tea and the smoke from a lorn, crimson fire. Wet leaves, after a rain. You feel your resolve start to waver.

“Well,” He says, all thoughtful, all trickster, “Sitting down, I believe, would be a good place to begin.”

The teasing lilt of his voice - an act that he is putting on, and all for you, always for you - cajoles you, coaxing you to lever your elbows and slide back down onto the floor, your weary legs feeling unimaginably grateful. Loki shoots you a new smile now, light and proud. He beckons you, with a cock of his head and a slim, fond gesture, to him - Of a sudden, the tiles beneath you seem like a desert, an ocean. You feel the weight of your emptiness. It laughs at you, its’ white teeth filed and barred. In your head, your failure is heavy; a hot and cackling creature with seven-foot claws pressing down on your chest, restricting your matchstick limbs. You are lost to the unyielding insistence of it, trapped in the maw of its cage, and Loki’s words, when they come, sound as far away as the shores of a country ancient and foreign.

“I was hardly gone,” He is saying, but you cannot answer him. “How could it have gotten this bad?”

It is that - that sadness, that fear in your lover - that breaks you, and you take the thing at a clumsy, terror-steeped sprint, not caring how wretched you look, so long as you can reach him - So long, you finally let yourself think, as there is something left of you for Loki to hold in his arms. Your body hurts worse than anything. You feel every scrape and bruise and chill on it; the pins and knives working at oxygen-starved nerves, and the gnawing clamp of your hunger, a brand pressing into your gut; and you know that Loki can’t save you. But maybe, just maybe, you can find some way to save yourself. And his fingers are there, going up to your hair, thumb rubbing at a hollow cheek and catching the salty dirge of an errant tear.

“It gets better, you know,” Loki tells you. He gets you onto his lap; you feel his heartbeat under your palms where you clutch tightly at his shirt to hold yourself up. A steady, thrumming proof that he is alive. And when he says it, you get the sense that, somehow, you’ve always know it, this whispered secret he’s weaving into your soul. “If you get proper help for it. If you want it to.”

He speaks casually, but there is a weight to his words. Miraculously - you’re not quite so sure how - you find yourself able to meet them.

“I want it to,” You tell him. “I didn’t, before - “ And here his eyes widen, and he shakes his head like you’ve shot him - “But I do. I want to -“

“Alright, love,” He tells you, running a soothing hand down over your side, past the hard planes of your collarbone, “Alright. It’s okay. You’re such a strong person- It’s going to be hard, for awhile, but I know that you can get through this. I’ll be right here with you, darling. Right here, by your side.”

“You will?” You ask him, voice cracking, hardly daring to hope that despite all this, he would stay. He chuckles, sadly, as if your thinking it hurts him, and he is deadly serious when he tells you,

“Y/N, of course I will.”

Somehow, though he’s the god of lies, you don’t doubt his words for an instant. You nod, and the nodding takes effort. Yet you are certain he understands what you mean.

“So,” Says Loki, “Can you - Tell me about this?”

You have to think, for a minute. Can you tell Loki about this? You know that he’s telling the truth, that he isn’t going to leave you. Still, you’ve never been this vulnerable with him before, not even in bed, and the fear in you won’t be put to rest so easily. You shake in his hold, and realize, with a frigid shock, how you must look to him - how badly you are hurting him, and how badly you’re hurting yourself, by keeping your feelings inside yourself and leaving your body to rot. You know, now, that Loki will help you through this - that he will be there, kind touches skirting the bad days; warm, mischevious smirks smoothing the wrinkles of your persistent self-doubts. There was a time when you needed to do this - there will, probably, still be days when you feel like you need to do this, to get a firm hold over your life, and keep the jackals at bay. There are other words to keep yourself safe, though. Loki’s breath in the dark is more home to you than anything you’ve ever had, and his open waiting, here in the daylight, makes you brave enough to speak.

“Maybe… Over lunch?” You offer. You bite your lip and hold out the query, a silky pearl in your hand. For one moment, Loki seems to consider; after all, he is the trickster, and a man not given to acting rashly, or stripping the drama from his complicated schemes. If this is a scheme, you think that you might forgive him - Later, when his lips are on your frame, when you’re there with him, again. His lips twitch into a grin so affectionate and proud that you know- you know - that if you seek proper care and really want to get better, you’ll get through the days that feel like walking on broken glass. You’ve done so much for me, that grin tells you. Let me do this for you.

He reaches out, and takes the pearl. You hardly recognize the man who rained hell down on New York, who snorts and jabs with sarcasm at every word that comes out of Iron Man’s mouth.

“Breakfast?” He counters, shooting a pointed glance at the microwave clock. It is a dare and a promise - a challenge, but never a trick. It tastes like honey on your tongue.

“Fine,” You say, “But you’ll have to cook.” Some kind of joy is creeping its way into you. Your voice, you find, barely trembles.

“Midgardians,” Lok says, with an eye-roll - a friendly, loving glint in his eyes that refuses to fade. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who burns water.” The joke prods your tender, new understanding, reassures you that he is still Loki; that he isn’t going to treat you differently, like a child, just because you’re suffering. The smile comes full onto you, and you wriggle, stretching your arms over your head and yawning, exaggerated for effect to add to the banter.

“I never said that I couldn’t cook,” You tell Loki, “Just wanted you to do it.”

“Mm,” He says, “And what will you be doing, then, while I cook?”

You chew at your lip, and choose to answer before your nerves make you panic.

“Finding the right words,” You admit, laying the truth bare to him.

His hands are wending through your hair now, and his lips are unberarably gentle on yours. He tastes like embers and ink. That sweet, slightly metalic tang that you’ve come to associate with his magic; cinnamon, tinged with steel. He kisses you for a second or two, before pulling away, but you could live in those seconds - Unfold it, like a blanket, and let the care of it warm your thin, freezing bones, if Loki weren’t here to show you that, with the right help, you can learn how to do it yourself.

“Finding the right words,” Loki muses, vaulting himself up to stand in a movement that’s unfairly graceful. “I’d much prefer yours, to be honest.”

He holds a hand out, and you take it, letting him pull you up. The floor, underneath you, feels solid. The sun is coming through the clouds, and out there in the wide world you can hear bird-song, the low, sugared sway of the breeze. There is something else there, too:

You let it wrap its tendrils around you, and you decide that it’s hope.

#loki/reader #loki/female reader #established relationship #eating disorders #mental health struggles #not me writing 3k plus words of loki helping the reader come to terms with the fact that they can recover from their eating disorders #because that's what I wanted to have when I was going through it #soft loki #i mean seriously #yeah there's angst #BUT #also just an unrepentant amount of loki fluff #he says it in the fic but i'll mention it here too:#if you're going through anything like this #know that you don't have to do it alone!#and that not only is it okay to get professional help #it's a good and positive thing that can be a very important part of recovery!#you have so much love and support in your life #because you're a beautiful amazing strong person and it's NOT YOUR FAULT that you're struggling with a mental illness #fics mentioned in the beginning as inspirations for writing this(and the next couple oneshots I have lined up) include:#The 'Loki's Lullabies' series by kaoerin on AO3 #and the 'As You Are' series by hopeless_romantic_spoonie/yespolkadot_kitty #also on AO3 #if any of you are on tumblr i'm so sorry i don't know your url's #but y'all should go show these fics love

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suneatersupportsquad · 4 years

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red handed; colby brock

request: im not sure if you do requests or even any imagines for colby brock anymore but i was wondering if you cold make a exception, so basically the plot is that the reader met colby through kat and since then they hit it off, now their in a secretive relationship the only person who knows is kat but she only knows the reader has a crush on colby. one day everyones hanging out in the same room room and colby is sexting the reader, sams curious to whos hes texting and they find out their dating.

dedication: @whydontweanons

genre: fluff, subtle smut?

pairing: colby brock x gn!reader

characters: colby brock, sam golbach, katrina stuart, corey scherer, jake webber, kevin langue, brennen taylor, devyn lundy, tara yummy

word count: 1.8k

warnings: alcohol, what would probably be underage drinking, NSFW (barely), sexting (duh), mentions of COVID-19, quarantine

a/n: of course i’ll still write for sam and colby!! it’s just that, since i’m not as active of a follower of them as i used to be, my goal is to write for fandoms that i’m more invested in at the moment. but, honestly, i don’t think i could ever really stop writing for them. i love those boys so much. also this plot made me laugh so hard when i saw it in the best way possible. getting this request honestly made my day, so thank you for that!! anyways, i’m a little rusty, but here we go.

important links: masterlist

find more fics at my new blog @trapboysbunny

You and Colby had known each other for a long time - pretty much since he’d moved to LA with Sam - and you had been involved romantically just as long. You had met him and Sam through Kat on a boring Saturday night when all their friends flaked on coming to a little kickback they were hosting. Trying to be a good friend and cheer the boys up, Katrina had invited you to hopefully kickstart some emotional momentum. Your eyes met Colby’s for the first time and you clicked. Something in your gut had told you that the two of you would end up being close, and it was right. You had hit it off immediately, not taking very long to start laughing at one another’s corny jokes and telling stories over Smirnoff Ice while some random late night show played in the background. From that night on, it was history.

Since then, you two had been practically attached at the hip. If you weren’t sitting on the same room or facetiming, you were definitely texting one another. It became a running joke in your friend group that you two had evolved into a pair of siamese twins, or that being without you gave Colby separation anxiety. The two of you found it even more amusing when you actually began dating, not long after that fateful first night. It amazed the both of you that you were able to hide your relationship so well. No one had a clue. The two of you laughed about it quite often, actually, over late night phone calls and tipsy afternoons spent only with each other. No one knew, and nobody needed to know.

Colby, due to the internet and his fanbase being the way it is, preferred to keep his personal (and especially romantic) relationships more on the private side. His intent wasn’t necessarily to hide his feelings and relationship with you from his friends, but that particular topic of conversation never really came up in your friend group. Everyone had just kind of figured that everyone single would simply date someone when they were ready and tell everybody about it when they felt the time was appropriate. It wasn’t that Colby didn’t want to tell them, he just didn’t see the point in going out of his way to tell all of his friends hey after God knows how long I finally have a partner. He just didn’t want to make a big deal out of your relationship. Knowing his friends, they would definitely make it into some type of big thing, not to mention that Jake would dub the occasion as “cause for celebration” (which was really just an excuse to drink more). So Colby preferred to keep things on the quieter side for you two; neither of you wanted to make your relationship into an object for speculation.

Kat was the only person out of all of your friends to have any knowledge of your feelings for Colby. And thank God for her; if you didn’t have her to gush about Colby to, you probably would have either exploded or died. Or both. And she was there for every single second of it. She loved hearing about your movie nights, your urban exploring adventures, the sweet yet mundane things he would do to make you happy, literally anything. She ate that shit up like a man starved, and you did the same for her and Sam (regardless of the fact that their relationship was public already). You hadn’t told her explicitly about the nature of your relationship with Colby, really just gushed about your ever-growing love for the boy. Unbeknownst to you, she firmly believed that you only had feelings for Colby, clueless to the fact that the two of you had actually been dating for quite a while now. With her “go get ‘em, tiger” comments, along with similar remarks, you assumed that she had some sort of idea about your relationship with Cole, hence why you had never explicitly told her about your secret boyfriend. Kat, being the good friend that she was, never spilled your “secret” feelings to anyone else. Not even her boyfriend.

Eventually, quarantine started up amidst the international COVID-19 pandemic and you had begun practically living with the trap boys. A day without you in the house was enough to prompt concern for the boys, minus Colby who always knew the real reason why you weren’t coming over. This soon became the new normal, you taking a “day off” every few weeks to get tested just in case. At this point, it was almost comical that no one had figured out you two were dating yet.

One particular weekend afternoon, everyone in your friend group was hanging out at the house. You and Colby were sitting on opposite sides of the room, you next to Kat and Colby seated beside Sam. It was particularly warm today seeing as this Saturday landed smack in the middle of the infamous August heat wave, so you had thrown on a tank top and some shorts, nothing to flashy. Colby had dressed similarly, wearing only a muscle tee and a pair of trunks.

You were sat beside Kat, the both of you trying to listen to the story Devyn was telling. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ignore the way your boyfriend was staring at you from across the room. You looked away from Dev for just a second to shoot him a glare when you realize exactly why he’s looking at you. The speed at which the blood rushes to your face is dizzying, and you drop your head to stare at your lap. Motherfucker- You sigh as you pull your phone out of your pocket. “Quit it with the blowjob eyes asshole,” you type before pressing the blue send button.

You feel his gaze break as his phone vibrates. Trying to ignore him, you refuse to meet his gaze again, putting all of your effort into focusing on Devyn’s story. Seconds later your phone vibrates in your pocket. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the screen reads, and you shake your head.

“Uh huh sure ok.” You pressed send again.

Another few seconds passed and your phone vibrated again. “That shirt looks really good on you.”

You blushed as you read the message, flustered by the comment. Brows knitting together in confusion, you looked up to find him staring back at you with a dopey grin. You hunched over your phone and sent a message back. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, of course,” Colby replied, a gray typing bubble sitting under the message. “But you know how it would look cuter?”

You cocked your head to the side and typed out your response. “How?”

“On my bedroom floor.” You almost snorted at that, clamping a hand over your mouth to prevent any noise from escaping. Typical. Thankfully no one had been paying enough attention to you to notice that you were distracted.

Colby, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. “Give me this, dude,” Sam said, snatching the phone out of Colby’s hand and effectively bringing the conversation on their side of the room to a halt. “You haven’t been listening for like the past 20 minutes, dude. Now let’s see what’s got you so distracted.”

“You don’t need to look at that, Sam, it’s not that important-” The tall brunette sounded slightly panicky as he reached and grappled with Sam for his phone. Sam played around for a little bit before finally reading the screen, eyes widening in amusement.

Upon finishing his reading, Sam lowered the phone and Colby relaxed, already knowing that he was caught. “So who’s ‘angelcakes,’ huh Colbert?” Sam prodded teasingly.

Colby blushed ever so slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re just a friend-”

“Which friend, huh?” Sam continued his teasing, growing louder and louder with every response until all eyes were on the two boys.

Colby shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but looking more stressed than ever in actuality. “Just a friend.”

“What do you say we call this friend, huh boys?” Sam suggested.

Kevin nodded, agreeing. “I think we definitely should.” Brennen also nodded when Sam looked to him for approval, essentially finalizing the decision.

“Okay then, let’s do this thing!” Sam yelled, earning cheers from all the other curious folks in the room. The blonde boy pressed call and Colby simply held his face in his hands.

You jumped when your phone rang, honestly having forgotten that oh shit, I’m angelcakes. Everyone turned to look at you curiously, Colby even peeking through his fingers. You didn’t even pick up the device, already knowing whose name would be lighting up the screen. “You gonna pick that up or something?” Corey asked awkwardly.

You shook your head, leaving your phone face down in its spot beside your thigh. “No, it’s probably not important anyways.”

A beat of heavy silence passed before Tara spoke. “Gee, they sure aren’t giving up. Maybe you should answer it.”

“Nah, I’m sure it’s just-”

“Yeah, you should answer the phone, Y/N,” Jake agreed, the pieces seeming to click in his head.

You sighed, burning bright red to the tips of your ears. “Okay okay, fine.” You stood and clicked the answer button. “Hello?”

And there it was, your voice echoing from Colby’s phone. The room erupted in cheers of disbelief, the boys pouncing on Colby and the girls slapping you in playful excitement. “I knew there was something going on between you two!! There’s no way there couldn’t have been -- I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Kat squealed, smushing you in a hug.

The rest of the girls echoed the sentiment, a chorus of ‘same’s and ‘I can’t believe you’s. It took a while for everyone to calm down but, once everyone settled, you and Cole managed to get some alone time. The two of you escaped out back, the less than mediocre breeze cooling the sweat that slicked your skin. You held each other, almost as though you were about to start slow dancing. “Damn, caught red handed, huh?”

You laughed breathily, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “It was only a matter of time, ya know?”

“I know,” he agreed, cheek pressing against your hair. “I’m glad we don’t have to be weird around them anymore.”

“Me too,” you hummed.

Colby pulled away a little bit, just enough for him to look you in the eyes, your arms still around his neck. “Hey.”

You giggled, confused. “Hey.”

“I love you.”

You smiled your confirmation, eyes twinkling under the cheap backyard lights. “I love you.”

#colby brock #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock one shot #colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #fanfiction #the trap house #bug.oneshots

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barzzal · 4 years

Text

when the ball drops

summary: out of all the times you wanted to bail, for once you were certainly glad you didn’t ditch this year’s new year’s eve party.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: language, parties, drinking, flirty banters + a smitten mat (set in a pandemic free au)

↳ genre: fluff, meeting a total stranger, early 2000’s romantic/comedy typa thing (what i think at least)

↳ length: imagine; 5.9k

↳ masterlist: the barn

note: this is an entry for @hockeynetwork’s winter fic exchange and i was matched as @bqstqnbruin’s secret santa! i genuinely hope you get to enjoy this, boo!! i wanna thank a few mutuals, @tkachukme @calgarycanuck @pizzarandomness (esp @thirteenisles !!) for helping me out so i could get thru with writing this imagine! you guys are so nice i truly appreciate all of you. happy holidays & happy new year, everyone! 💕 (gif used: mine)

Every year you swear to yourself that you would spend the New Year’s at home, eating a peaceful dinner by yourself and maybe enjoy a good bottle of wine whilst you spend the whole night watching The Holiday. But just like all the other years you have spent alone since you’ve moved to New York, you end up breaking that same promise, pretty much with the help of your two best friends Emma and Katie.

Now, instead of being curled up in your living room, wearing your favourite knitted sweater and away from all the New Year chaos happening all at once in the very best place to celebrate such a festive occasion, here you are, getting your second glass of vodka tonic as you wait for the goddamn ball to drop.

The local bar has always been crowded especially during this time of the year. You and your friends already made it an annual thing which is probably the reason why despite the yearning you have for the idea of spending it all alone, you couldn’t find enough courage to ditch them and disappear even just for one night.

“Where are the girls?” Gavin, the owner of the bar whom you’ve already befriended due to the amount of times you and the girls spent helping him close up was busily wiping the counter when you sat in your usual seat.

You casually motioned your hand to where you left Emma and Katie, dancing with men they’d most certainly end up kissing once the clock strikes twelve.

“Alone again? You’ve got to blow off some steam, y/n.” He greets you with a concerned look exuding from his virile exterior. You idly shake your head, giving him a tight smile to reassure him that you were doing okay.

“It’s not that big a deal.” is the usual thing you say to people when your being ‘alone’ on the holidays becomes in question. “Besides, I’m a big girl, Gavs.” You proudly announce, leaning against the bar with your palm resting underneath your chin.

“I know you’re a ‘big girl’.” He rolls his eyes before his gaze trails off to your friends and then landing onto a couple of young lads from across the room. “I’m just saying, loosen up. Meet people. It feels nice to have someone holding you close at night so don’t be too hard on yourself.”

A snort bursts from you as soon as you hear the words leave Gavin’s mouth. Who would have known a guy as tough-looking as him would be too much of a softy underneath?

“What?” He holds his guard as he continues making your drink. The liquid swirling around a few ice cubes and a shot of liquor.

“Nothing, nothing. I just– I didn’t think you were one of those people.” You say, clearing your voice once you’ve finally gathered yourself. “You know, the sappy romantics.”

Gavin looks at you, giving you an ‘Oh, please.’ look. “No, ‘cause that’s where you’re wrong.” He protests. “I’ve always been this soft, “sappy romantic” kinda guy. You just choose to see me the way you see me; a typical macho man who hands you good drinks.” He pauses, finishing off with the last touches of your drink. “But you know what? That’s fine. ‘Cause that’s how I know you’re just like me.” He then slides the cold drink towards you.

“What do you mean?” You were intrigued to be fair. You already had your head tilted to the side trying to piece something that could justify what he just said.

“That.” He looks at you, index finger circling before your eyes to make his argument even more compelling. “You act like a strong independent woman, which by the way you still are,– but you have to admit that you do want someone who’s gonna want to spend his New Year’s watching that dumb old movie of yours.” He says with a grin before he pours another customer a shot of tequila.

You were sure you wanted to just shrug it off, but somehow, you can’t help but think of how his words hit you in the subtlest way. Each word bearing an insane amount of possibilities of him being right all along.

But what’d he know anyway? It’s not like he knew you better than anyone else. Maybe it’s just his way with words. Or maybe he’s just that good. After all, that’s basically the reason why he’s running a goddamn bar, right?

𖥸

It wasn’t Mat’s first time spending New Year’s away from his family but if he only had a choice, he’d certainly take the next plane with no question. However, given how the team’s fight for the Cup is going stronger than the last season, he couldn’t bring himself to risk going away and missing out on his usual routines. So, for the past couple of weeks he’d let himself be stuck with Beauvillier throughout the holidays.

Now, for the sake of festivities, the two decided it’d be best to come out to the city and have fun welcoming the New Year along with some good friends that were surprisingly available at the last minute. That being said, the local bar was already the third one they’ve gone to having started the drinking binge earlier than intended.

“Happy New Fucking Year, Motherfuckers!” The loudest and perhaps, the drunkest man cheered at the center of the dance floor, holding up his drink carelessly as he danced to the mind numbing EDM coming off from the DJ’s booth.

“Way to get wasted. Am I right?” Dan says as he stands to gather everyone and clink their beer mugs for the nth time.

“Somebody’s definitely gonna miss the ball drop.” Tito snides, referring to the drunken man cheering tirelessly. Mat shakes his head and idly laughs. Their glasses meet halfway, causing some of the beer to spill over the table. The loud music and cheers echoed in Mathew’s ears, finding the whole scene a little too overwhelming despite how he liked to loosen up with bottomless drinks coming his way.

Somehow, he was thankful that he needed a second to breathe which only meant having to take his eyes off of the same guys he hangs with on and off the ice. Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to see someone so beautiful yet seemingly out of place when his gaze landed onto that one girl sitting by the bar all by herself at what seems to be the loudest pub in the city.

“God, she’s pretty.” The words unknowingly slip off his tongue, making him realize he’s announced his thoughts out for the group just enough to make their brows quirk at the now out-of-reach Mathew.

“What?” Anthony leans closer to him so as to give himself a view of what Mat had his eyes peeled for.

“That girl by the bar, she’s— she’s really pretty.” Mathew says, completely sure that he has never said anything true in his life. Much to his surprise, the boys gathered around and turned their heads towards the girl sitting by the bar.

“So? Go and talk to her, man.” Anthony casually proposes with a nudge, urging him to go after her.

Mathew immediately lets out a foolish scoff and chooses to gulp a large amount of liquor from his mug.

“Yeah, just go for it. What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Tyson chides, looking at the girl who has utterly made their night a little more interesting. That being said, being stuck with the three biggest blokes wasn’t that too interesting to begin with.

“Oh, worst thing? She could hear me!” Mat runs a hand through his hair, incapable of taking his eyes off of her even just for a second.

“You know if you don’t, I will.” Tyson puts his beer down and acts as if to make the move Mathew was too hesitant to do himself in order to boost his mate.

“Fuck off. Fine. Hold my beer.” Mat rolls his eyes and shoves Tyson his mug before gathering himself by straightening creases off his suit along with a few sharp breaths to ease out the nervousness he’d been feeling.

You watch the teeny tiny leaf of mint swirl around the whirl of liquor you’ve successfully made, ignoring all the background noise, still evidently fixated on the words Gavin has left you with earlier. Has it really been that long since you allowed yourself to be fully vulnerable around someone?

A sad smile escapes your lips, one that made the man that was now towering all over you wonder what could have possibly caused such melancholy on the most beautiful girl he has seen all throughout the city. That’s a rather heavy way to put it but that doesn't mean he was lying. He did find you really pretty. Maybe even a little too much and too out of his league.

A tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts.

“Hi.” He says, gray eyes illuminated by the strobe lights hitting your direction. You give him a tight smile, acknowledging his presence and frankly even the boldness he had to strike up a conversation.

“I just wanted to ask if what you’re drinking is any good.” Mat subconsciously reprimands himself for coming up with what is yet to be the lamest thing he’s ever told a girl.

Great. Now, you’re asking her if a vodka tonic is good? As if it could get any better? He thinks to himself. So, to compensate and reduce further damage, he plays it off by laughing quite sheepishly as he absent-mindedly massages his nape.

Noticing what the man was doing, you let out a shy laugh too, biting your lower lip as you find his foolish attempt of hitting on you quite adorable.

“Wow. You’re really good at this.” You tease, now giving away a playful smile, poking at his middle school pick up line.

Mathew chuckles. His doe eyes shy and alienated by the confidence he certainly knew he had not until a few seconds ago when he met yours. “I swear I’m better than this.” He tries again, this time earning himself a soft giggle from you.

Atta boy, Mat.

“I’m Mat by the way. Mathew Barzal.”

He reaches out his hand which you gladly took. It was calloused and rough around the edges whilst Mat found yours completely fitting in his. Your eyes meet halfway as you both shook each other’s hands. Fingers lingering quite longer than it should be.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“So, you’re telling me you haven’t had a tonic before?” You ask him, hands now all to yourselves. Mat leans against the bar, his elbow resting on the counter, unable to suppress the embarrassment now dawning on him upon remembering his little set back.

“I’m sort of a vodka tonic connoisseur.” He kids in an attempt to redeem himself. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

You look at him, shaking your head at how unbelievably gorgeous this man is. “Fine. It wasn’t. I’ll give you that.”

“So,” He takes a deep breath before taking one of the empty seats beside you. “I– I can’t help but wonder, I mean– if it’s not too forward of me, how come you’re drinking alone on New Year’s?”

You take a sip off of your drink and faintly shake your head, dismissing his query. “Hmm. Actually, no.”

Mathew muttered an “oh.” at the thought of hearing what he thinks you’re about to say next. To his surprise, and frankly feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his chest, you motion towards your best girls, Emma and Katie who were now obviously way too fond of the guys they just met.

“See those girls?”

Mathew nods, the answer to his question now becoming much clearer and put together. An answer that absolutely went along with his cards well.

“Those are two of the most important persons in my life going at it at a New Year’s Eve Party.”

“Would it be wrong to ask why aren’t you ‘going at it’ like how they’re doing it now?”

Is he always this formal? You think, lips curving to a grin.

“What?” He asks when he sees the expression (he can’t quite put a finger on) on your face.

“Nah. I’m all good. I mean, not that I don’t want to. I just–” You pause. Unsure of whether telling him the truth would do your case any better. What’s there to lose anyway? He’s just some guy you’re bound to meet at the bar. It’s not like you didn’t anticipate a scenario like this from happening, right?

“Just take me as someone who isn’t really fond of big parties,” he then cuts you off and finishes your sentence, “But still go anyways.”

“Exactly.”

Gavin pops in for a bit, handing Mathew a bottle of beer he was certain of not ordering. He looks at him puzzled. A silent question that Gavin answered with a wink before getting back to tending to his alcohol induced customers.

Apparently, it’s on the house.

“How come you’re here chatting with me when your friends are all the way there?” You motion towards a curly haired man and the other boys across the room. One was even smiling at you but you just opted on giving him a nod before turning your head back towards Mathew.

“Well, I didn’t like the idea of having you celebrate the New Year’s alone.” He honestly says. But since you were the kind of person who wasn’t the best at taking any type of compliment nor flirty exchanges like a normal person would, you roll your eyes and be the blunt person you were always known for. “Oh. I thought you saw a girl sitting alone at the bar and saw that as an opening.”

To be fair, Mat wasn’t really intimidated by your remark. In fact, he actually liked how straight forward you were with him. You didn’t look at him the way he’s gotten used to whenever he comes up and introduces himself to other girls; something that only made him more interested in you. He can’t help but want to know what exactly is going on in your mind. Not the creepy kind, of course. Just the one where he’d rather spend the New Year’s getting to know a total stranger than getting insanely pissed with the same men he’s spent most of his days with.

“That too.” He admits, taking a sip off his beer without breaking his eyes off you.

There was a sheer silence for a moment. The kind that Mat knew was much deafening than the booming sound of the usual dreadful New Year’s Eve Party. “So tell me,” Mat regains himself, catching your attention once again. “What would you rather be doing tonight? You know, if you hadn’t had to come out here.”

He watches your lips quirk thinking about what it was that you actually wanted to do tonight. Then again, you only had one thing in mind.

“I kinda wanted to spend it alone for the past three years.”

“That long? How come?”

“Well, you know, for some peace and quiet. Maybe watch a movie or two.”

Like what he has been doing since the moment he’d gone to talk to you, he watches you run your fingers around the rim of your cold drink. Evidently immersed in your own thoughts from trying to piece out the real reason behind your grave wanting to spend the occasion alone.

Turning the tables, you ask the same question back, “What about you? I mean, other than getting shit faced, what would you rather be doing?”

Mathew takes a deep breath trying to suppress the longing he’s felt for the past few weeks. He just misses his family so much that he couldn’t help but wonder how they’re doing even if he’s constantly kept in touch with them hours before he’d gone out with the boys.

“I’ll be with my folks. You know, all that usual family stuff.” He answers you shortly.

You didn’t think much of what he’s told you so you just tell him the very thing that crossed your mind. “You know, it’s amazing how two people who didn’t even want to be here find each other just so they could bitch about not wanting to be here a little bit more.”

The two of you share a good laugh, utterly and undeniably enjoying each other’s company. It didn’t feel weird having to talk to a total stranger, let alone let them have bits and pieces of yourself that only enables them to put together an image of you that isn’t even as close to who you really are. Regardless of that notion, there was something about how Mathew connected with you, and how you connected with him.

It was far from being the movie type of thing, but you have to admit, the remainder of the time you two have spent talking over a half empty bottle of beer and a glass of vodka tonic has definitely made the two of you feel this unexplainable wanting of having to learn more about each other. That being said, when all drinks were drunk till its last drop, Mathew couldn’t help himself from wanting to spend a bit more time with you. Maybe, even the whole night if you’d only let him.

“D’you want to get out of here?” He shoots his shot as quickly as he could, afraid that losing even just a second would mean losing a night of spontaneity with you.

You have long waited for a reason to miss the annual party. And if that meant having to wait three years just so you could stumble upon a tall and fairly handsome man that was going to save you from a dreadful evening, nothing would’ve felt as right as this if it weren’t for the push Mat had stored in his piercing eyes and mischievous grin.

You didn’t have to give it much thought. After spending a whole hour exchanging little trivias of yourselves, Mat finally had it easy in making a riveting case. You sigh in defeat as you fish out a few cash from your purse and slide it into your tab.

Excitement now exuding from Mathew, he bobs his brows up and down whilst he watches you roll your eyes once again for the hundredth time tonight. “I’m gonna hate you for this.” You tell him as you get off the bar stool.

Mat hurriedly signals Tito for his coat to which he was able to catch the moment he had tossed it towards his way. He then gets yours that was placed on the back of your seat before finally following you out towards the door.

“I highly doubt that.”

𖥸

Mathew draped your coat over your shoulders, helping you to slip into it. You politely say your thanks and hold your purse close, your gloves gripping onto the leather as the two of you stroll the streets of New York, the winter breeze brushing on your cheeks with every stride you make.

“So,” You begin, putting both of your hands inside your coat pockets. “Where are you taking me, Mat?”

He tries to think for a second. The thought of not having a concrete plan for the night finally dawns on him. He clicks his tongue and breathes in the familiar scent of the city. Mathew looks around the block and spots the good old food truck he and the boys once tried when they were out for an away game with the Rangers.

“How about New York’s finest burrito?” He points to where the truck was parked, clueless to how his sudden movement placed him inches closer to you. You didn’t notice it until you looked at him for his eyes were still pinned to where the truck was at.

Mat’s eyes were pretty. That’s a known fact. But what you didn’t realize was how astonishing they are not until you got this close. You took in the sight sitting before you as fast as you could while he was still preoccupied like a five-year-old kid seeing an ice-cream truck pass by the neighborhood. Your eyes linger from his well structured brows, his unbelievably long lashes, down to the tip of his nose and his rosy cheeks before finally settling down to his cherry plump lips. All of which were more than enough to send butterflies in your stomach.

“O-Okay.” You agree. Mathew takes you by the hand before you can even say a word. Thank the gods for letting you live in a city that seems to never stop the hustle to still have open food trucks good for a quick bite at this time of the night close into New Year’s.

“Hey, bud. Two sixes to go, please.” Mathew says politely once he knocks on the window.

“You’ve got to try this, I swear.” He looks back at you with the same warm smile beaming on his face.

“Unless you want a proper meal? I mean, there’s a diner down the–” You immediately cut him off and take out your purse, offering to pay for it instead. “No! It’s fine, really. I’m a bit hungry myself.”

After spending the whole time waiting for the wrapped snack, arguing on who would be paying, you let Mathew have this one for now even if you didn’t like others paying for what you can pay yourself.

You take a good look at your watch and see that you only have about an hour left till midnight. An idea pops in your head, making you gasp at the thought. Mathew looks at you with a half-eaten burrito in his hand, his brows all furrowed as if to ask a piece of your mind.

“Come on, I know where we should go.”

𖥸

Mathew never thought he’d found himself standing on a rooftop of a random building overlooking the Empire State during one of the coldest times in the city. The things that has only kept him sane was the girl who was still holding his hand, the city lights that have always left him in awe, and of course, the well heated rooftop.

There have been a few exchanges that are quite notable over the time you’ve spent with Mathew. He’s told you about the usual night outs he and the boys have for leisure, the family he had back in Coquitlam, how much he misses his mom and his sister, and how much love he has for hockey that he ended up doing the thing he loved most for a career.

Him, on the one hand, pretty much learned the same stuff about you. Well, almost, for he has yet to ask you the one thing that has been bugging him off all night.

You were telling him how this was your safe haven in the city and how much you loved going here every time you felt like needing to take a deep breath and step back from the world when he asked you a simple question. One that’s absolutely left you surprised (and a little bit impressed) that he still even remembered it at this point.

“What’s the movie about? You know, the one you’ve been wanting to see tonight.” He asks, both of his hands inside his pockets to keep warm.

The two of you sat on the bench facing thousands of lights illuminating the whole city. You look at him for a second, biting your lip as you contest with yourself, the thought of Mat being the kind of douché that would shit around women and their romantic comedy films comes rushing to you like a cold December breeze.

“Alright, why do you want to know?” You pass the ball back to his court. To which Mat shortly answers with a level-headed sigh. “I kinda get the feeling it has something to do with the three-year thing.”

“You’re nosy.” You kiddingly say, earning a chuckle from him.

“You’ve spent the whole night walking with me and I can barely even feel my legs anymore, y/n. Trust me, between you and me, you know you’re the nosy one.” The two of you share a small laugh, your voices are the only sound that can be heard besides the sleepless city acting as a white noise to you and Mathew’s little bubble.

“Fine. And you’re a fucking athlete, so don’t even start.”

You playfully give him a nudge on the shoulder when he starts mimicking what you say. Mat stops immediately and looks at you with the same doe eyes glinting under the security lights that the rooftop had. He then patiently waits for you to gather your thoughts, breathing in all of New York as he lets himself drown in your presence.

You didn’t know how but there was this unspeakable comfort you feel around Mat. Sure, he was just a total stranger you’ve met a few hours ago, but no one, not even the guy who dumped you after your five-date rule, was able to connect with you at the same level as Mathew did.

“It’s not that I want to see it so bad. I’ve watched it for like– a reasonable amount before it became my comfort movie. Plus, it’s literally called The Holiday. Why wouldn’t you want to see it during the holiday?”

You tell him a bit more of how you’ve come into liking it, stalling him from the real reason why you wanted to celebrate the New Year’s alone. But you know, that even after all the circles you’re willing to go through just to keep Mat at bay, you’re bound to lose all your strings and resort to telling him in the end. You just hope you wouldn’t be making the same mistake you’ve made three years ago.

You told Mathew about your on and off childhood sweetheart Claude who has always kept you high and dry throughout the years of being together. (That is if you were in fact together.) He was the constant reminder that you will never be the kind of person someone would want to stick around with.

You and him go a long way. You both ended up going to the same university because he just had to have you around and that he couldn’t afford not being with you even just for a second. He said that he couldn’t take the thought of having to see you only on the holidays so as the dumb kid you once were, your feet followed his everywhere he’d gone.

That cycle went on and on until you finally had the courage to leave everything behind and move to New York. Months as a new kid in the city, you were scared, of course. You spent your days hanging around your apartment, doing all sorts of crap you can even think of just so you wouldn’t have to leave your flat. Although, meeting Emma and Katie was the biggest push you needed to finally let yourself let loose. Long story short, at the first New Year’s Eve Party you’ve ever gone to after moving in the city, the person you least expected to see was the very first one to come out of Gavin's bar. Claude.

Just like what a normal person would do, the two of you sat down and caught up. Pretty much the same thing you’ve gone with Mathew. Although only a lot less chit chat and a lot more kissing.

Claude told you his real intentions. He said that he wanted to start something with you for real. Of course, you had let him but you have made the biggest mistake of telling him about your five-date rule.

Lo and behold, Claude did stick around for the fifth date. That being said, he had stayed only for the fifth date. You saw him sneaking out of your flat so early in the morning, leaving you nothing but a voicemail that said his foolish reasons and insincere apologies. Since then, after a lot of major hook ups here and there, you’ve never let yourself become as vulnerable and stupid as you once were with the biggest douche you’ve ever met.

“It’s crazy, I know. You can laugh about it.” You say when Mat hasn’t spoken for a few seconds.

He takes a glance at you, a tight smile on his face. “I don’t think it’s crazy. That man is crazy. And also, a big prick. Classic dick move.” He tells you before he turns his eyes back to the city.

“Well, yeah. That’s me. That’s the holiday story.”

“A crappy one, of course.” You add.

Mat shakes his head no. He didn’t know why exactly but all he wanted to do at that moment, a few seconds before New Year’s, was to give you something,– even just a memory you could look back on. That that story isn’t going to be the one you’d be remembering for the next holidays. He wanted his to be something that’ll make your three-year-old crappy story long gone and forgotten. That his version would be the one that’s stuck.

“Definitely not this one.”

As the clock strikes twelve, cheers erupted throughout New York along with fireworks shooting into the city’s midnight sky. The first thing you see upon looking back were the same kind eyes of the man whom you have randomly met at the party you dreaded most. Only this time, drowning you little by little as it becomes iridescent under the thousands of lights covering New York City.

You were frozen to your seat as Mat’s face inch closer to yours. You feel his breath against your cold skin as if it was lulling you to sleep. His hands find its way to your face, cupping both of your cheeks rather gently as he finally paints a new memory you’d be carrying for the rest of your holidays.

“Happy New Year.” He greets you, almost like a faint whisper whilst the two of you gasp for breath. You blink a few times just to process what had just happened and digest how unbelievably good that kiss was.

Mathew’s hands were still on your cheeks. You held them close so he’d know you weren’t ready to let go. You take a deep breath, gathering enough courage to ask him an unusual way of greeting someone a Happy New Year.

“Will you walk me to my car?”

𖥸

You have both of your hands tucked inside your coat pockets as you walked the street leading to where you left your car. Mat was just telling you about the game happening next Thursday against the Bruins and how it would mean a lot to him if you’d come and see him play.

“To be fair, the Bruins are good.” You commented, a playful smirk plastered on your face rather teasingly.

Mathew lets out a snort as he rolls his eyes, chuckling at the thought of you dissing on his team the moment you had the chance. “Hey, both teams are good.”

“It’s just the matter of who’s better.” You finish his sentence, yet again working your way with a clever remark. Mat hums, not necessarily agreeing with your sentiment.

“So will you come?” He asks again just so he could hear you say yes. You take a deep breath, not letting yourself think too much of the said invitation. If you’re going, you’re going as a friend. Actually, you weren’t even sure if you could even call yourself such a label.

You nod your head yes to which had become the reason of Mathew’s glee. The two of you walked side by side in peace, basking in the comfort of each other’s presence.

Once the rush of excitement about you coming to one of his games starts to wear down, Mathew begins to feel the weight of walking befall on him as it grows quicker with each step he takes. With his brows meeting halfway, he looks at you, eyes evident with confusion.

“Where did you park your car exactly? I feel like we’re walking straight to Long Island.” He chortles, scratching his temple quite adorably.

You bit your lower lip as you looked up at him. Mathew’s physique towering over yours. “I uh– I took a cab to the party. My car’s actually parked outside my apartment.” You admit with a shy laugh.

Mat’s mouth went agape upon hearing you confess; awkward silence envelops the two of you with every second spent not talking to one another. Not long after, he decides to break the ice, undeniably impressed at how he’d never seen it coming.

Clever. He thinks, incapable of stopping his gut from swirling. His smile widens when he sees you looking at him; unfazed and perhaps, enamoured.

𖥸

Mat did walk you to your car. The two of you exchange your thank you’s; utterly grateful for what has to be the best New Year’s you had in years.

You wanted to ask him for one last cup of coffee because the last thing you wanted him to do was leave. But after all the things you’ve gone through with the man within such a short amount of time (and frankly, even a tedious walk) you still failed to muster enough courage to stop him from doing so.

Once you see him get in the lone cab that miraculously passed by your neighborhood at such an ungodly hour, you close the door behind and head straight to your flat.

You get home to the sight of your weighted blanket spread over your couch along with a couple of pillows that seems to be the best place to bury yourself in after a tiresome night out. Things were just as they were left hours ago; prepped for a much awaited movie night. As planned, you quickly get out of your winter clothes, head for a quick shower, before finally slipping into some comfortable nightwear.

You were just finishing up putting the bowl of popcorn and a bottle of Chardonnay on top of the coffee table when a buzz coming from the intercom catches your attention.

Once your hands were free, you quickly made your way towards the box, a bit irked at the thought of Katie and Emma ruining your long-overdue New Year agenda upon remembering how she’d told you to let her in the building just in case Katie gets a little too overboard.

“Emma, I’m about to watch Jude Fucking Law. Just come up!” You hurriedly say, turning your head back to the screen which already had the movie on pause.

However, instead of Katie’s whiny and drunken voice, what you heard was the same familiar chuckle that had been cruising your mind all night.

“You know, I don’t think I mentioned that I haven’t watched The Holiday. Is Jude Fucking Law any good?” He asks. A mental image of how his eyes crinkle when he laughs comes to mind upon hearing his voice.

Once again, pretty much like how you’ve spent the whole evening with Mathew, a wide smile lets loose as you press the black button. “Come on up.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #letters to barzy #barzzal imagines

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jacaerysvelaryonsss · 4 years

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three am - kirby dach

requested: yes/no

a/n: yes hello i finally sat down and wrote something, also as i was writing i realized i ended up changing the request a bit, so i apologize for that. this is my first fic too soooo, i do be really nervous to post this tho LOL, it’s not too long, but it’s still a lil something. a HUGE shoutout to @perpetually-anxious for proofreading and helping me edit this too, thank you so much. anyways, enjoy :)

word count: 1.2k

pairing: kirby dach x reader

warnings: takes place in & talks about the pandemic

tagging: @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @nolpatts @jdrysdales

When Kirby injured his wrist at the world juniors, he was devastated, and so were you. He was so excited to have been named captain, and yet it all came crashing down before the tournament had even started. Learning he would most likely be out for the season was just as terrible, at least for him. And yes, you knew it was probably selfish, but you liked knowing he was at home and safe from the infectious disease currently running rampant around the world. With cases of covid skyrocketing, you didn’t want anything else to happen to him. So, you being the protective person you are, basically locked him in the house with you. Neither of you left the house unless it was to get groceries, or go for a drive because you couldn’t stand being in the house anymore.

And honestly, everything was going pretty great. Although it was extremely stressful, you were thankfully still able to keep up with your schoolwork. The stress of exams was even worse now, but you were able to get through it and now taking extra advantage of the three week break you have before the start of your second term.

As much as you loved having Kirby home, there were times where it could get a bit annoying; and this was one of them. You were laying in bed, catching up on sleep... or at least trying to. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you fell asleep and managed to stay that way for a couple of hours. That is, until all of a sudden, you felt someone poking you.

“Hey, (Y/N). Wake up.” You hear as you begin to gain consciousness, opening your eyes you look at the clock on your bedside table and see the time reads 2:47 in the morning. With a sigh, you close your eyes agin. “Kirby, it’s almost 3 in the morning, go to bed.”

“But I can’t sleep, and I’m bored.” He whines while continuing to poke you, “Please babe, I promise to let you sleep in as long as you want in the morning, if you wake up now.”

With another sigh, you finally open your eyes and turn around to face him, “Okay fine. I’m awake now.” Smiling down at you, he kisses your forehead and then proceeds to get up. “Perfect, now let’s go on a little adventure!”

“Babe, it’s 3 in the morning and I literally just woke up less than 5 minutes ago, do you really expect me to jump out of bed to go with you?” You ask, while looking at him in disbelief, “I would also like to point out we’re in the middle of a pandemic and you have a broken wrist, so what exactly are we going to do?”

“We’re just gonna go on a walk to the corner store to pick up some stuff, and then we’ll come back here. It’s nothing too big.” He replies while walking out of the bedroom, “I’ll be waiting for you in the living room!”

With a long groan, you force yourself out of bed to get changed into something more suitable for the store. After you’ve finally changed, you grab your mask and keys off the bedside table and walk out to the living room to join your boyfriend. “Alright, I’m ready to venture off into the freezing cold with you, to go pick up who knows what at the store.”

Laughing, he gets up from the couch to grab your coat and gives it to you, “Thank you baby, I appreciate it.” You both put on your coats and then make your way out into the cold Chicago air and begin your walk to the store.

After a short freezing cold walk, which you’re surprised you didn’t get frostbite on, you arrive at the store and right away Kirby is rushing around picking up various different items. Mostly picking up chocolate and candy, but also pancake mix. Meanwhile, you’re just following him around in confusion, wondering why he needed to do this now, at some ungodly hour of the morning, when the both of you could be lying comfortably in bed and at the very least, trying to sleep. After what seems like forever, but in reality is just five minutes, he’s done with his little shopping spree and after he’s paid for everything, you guys finally head back home.

Walking back into your apartment, you both take your coats and masks off and then take turns washing your hands. Once you put your things away, you turn around and see your boyfriend getting various items down from the cabinets. Smiling to yourself, you finally realized why you ended up going to the store so late.

“Why do I have a feeling you had a sudden craving for pancakes, and that’s why we ended up going on our little adventure so late?” You ask as you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your forehead on his back.

He turns around and wraps his arms around you as he answers, “Yeah, you’re right... You gonna help me make them?” Looking up at him, you give him your biggest smile, “Well, considering the fact that you only have one good hand, of course I am.”

You guys get to work making them. With the lights being kept off, the only light illuminating the room were the streetlights outside and the faint glow from the fridge that was being kept open. Thankfully managing not to make too much of a mess, the pancakes were made and you guys decided to sit on the floor as you ate them.

All of a sudden, Kirby gets up, picking up all the plates to put them in the sink, and then turning around, he extends his hand to help you up and pulls you into his arms. He looks down at you and smiles, “I love you, so much.” He whispers into your ear. Looking up and smiling back up at him, “I love you too.”

In the minimal lighting around you, you both sway back and forth, your head resting on his chest. It’s quiet between you guys for a moment, until your boyfriend decided to speak up again, “I just want to say thank you, for everything. I know it’s hard doing online school and being stuck in the house, and I know I haven’t exactly been the most calm person to be with right now, but you still have done everything you can to help me out and I appreciate it, so much.”

Smiling to yourself, you look back up at him, “Of course, I’m not just gonna leave you hanging. And I don’t care how much you may annoy me sometimes, I’d rather you be safe and at home with me, especially since I can make sure you won’t do anything that could injure you more.” He smiles back and kisses you softly, and then suddenly he’s twirling you around and you guys are bursting out in joyful laughter.

You two dance around the kitchen, the fridge still open and illuminating your little dance floor, giving each other soft kisses and whispers of affection, you decide that you can catch up on your sleep later, and decide to dance around until the sun starts to rise.

And as you’re laughing and dancing, you realize nothing else matters, except for the man in front of you.

#kirby dach #kirby dach imagine #kirby dach x reader #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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inkbyajm · 4 years

Text

Holiday Blues

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: fluff, slight angst

word count: 1.1k

notes: it’s been two weeks, but i finally wrote the second part to the holiday series! i decided to change a few things: for starters, in this world, the pandemic DOESN’T EXIST for the sake of the plot, and the reason why corpse and reader can’t see each other is because she lies and says she doesn’t quite have the funds to travel. anyways, it’s christmas in three days, and 2020 will be over NEXT WEEK i’m so excited!! also, i’m curious as to which christmas songs you’re obsessed with at the moment 👀 to me, december means i can finally blast I’M GONNA KILL SANTA CLAUS by the most greg of all gregs - mr. danny gonzalez. and no one can stop me, because ‘tis the season.

< previous next >

It was halfway into December and Corpse had felt absolutely no holiday cheer. Well, that’s not exactly true. He’d streamed once or twice, he’d played with friends off camera too. But once everything cut, the corners of his lips would drop and he’d slouch back into his seat, with an air of defeat, as he thought about his love having a merry time on the other side of the Atlantic ocean.

Unbeknownst to him, (Y/N) and his friends had collectively decided to throw a big Christmas party in the new OfflineTV mansion the group had recently finished renovating. (Y/N) wasn’t going to leave her boyfriend without a present, nor was she leaving him to celebrate anything alone. While, initially, a festive gathering was all she had planned, a little bird (more like a flock) had been telling her all about her partner and the state he had been in lately. He wasn’t exactly fooling anyone with the “I’m fine”s and the “yeah, I’m good, just tired”s, contrary to his belief. So she very bravely decided to take on the 14+ hour transatlantic flight and pop in for a visit in the city of angels only a couple of days before Christmas Eve. Until then, though, he had to be kept in the dark. And in this case, what he didn’t know did hurt him.

━

It was a chilly morning when Corpse woke up with his body aching all over. Another restless night, another long day to spend. With a groan, he got up to start his morning routine, while taking his medication along the way.

As he walked to the kitchen to make up some kind of breakfast, he scrolled through his social media feeds to see if anything new had been posted while he was away.

His heart tightened ever so slightly, he couldn’t tell if it was due to his condition, or due to the feeling of jealousy which rose the longer he stared at her recent post. He felt selfish, of course she was allowed to have male friends, he himself had many female friends. But he still felt like that could have been, or rather should have been, him.

Dejectedly, he went on to Twitter to end up feeling even worse. He didn’t feel like telling anyone about how pathetic of a boyfriend he was being, yet he wanted to get out something. In the end, he settled with a good ol’ cryptic message as per usual Corpse Husband style.

Not feeling like eating much anymore, the brunette settled for quick oats. An hour had gone by, maybe even two, time was difficult to keep up with when nothing was done to spend it. He sat in his living room, the pictures she had posted floating around his mind, and realised (Y/N) hadn’t called him once since the beginning of the month. She’d warned him she was going to be busy, but he thought perhaps she had at least an hour to talk about all the riveting things she had been up to in the past couple of weeks.

Nervously, he picked up his phone and hovered his finger over her name. Wasn’t it late where she lived? What if she was having dinner with her roommates? It would be rude to interrupt their evening. But as he was hesitating, his finger had accidentally pressed the screen, prompting the ringing to begin.

It rang once, it rang twice. Three times. Four. Just as he was about to hang up, the timer had started, indicating that she was on the line.

“Hello?” Warmth instantly spread across his chest at the sound of her voice he hadn’t heard in too long a time.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Corpse felt shy all of a sudden, as if he was speaking to her for the first time. He hadn’t thought about what he was going to say beforehand.

“How are you?” he asked, putting her on speaker as he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt.

“I’m good! Really good, actually,” she spoke softly, a hint of pep in her voice, “how are you doing?”

“I uh...I woke up feeling sore today. Feels like someone beat me up in my sleep.” he followed up with a light chuckle so as to not completely ruin the mood. There was a short moment of silence before (Y/N) finally responded.

“I’m sorry. Did you take your medication?” Her reply felt somewhat off. Usually, she’d make it a bigger deal, asking him to rate the pain from 1 to 5 (1 being “eh, it’s barely there” and 5 being “put me out of my misery”), making sure he was going about his day alright, or even giving him virtual kisses to make him feel even a little bit better.

“I did, yeah, I took them this morning.” He wanted to talk about something, anything, but he couldn’t not think about what had been bothering him for the past two hours. “So, I saw you had one eventful day yesterday?”

“Yes! (F3/N) and I went on a hike early in the morning, and oh, Corpse, it was so magical!” he heard her gush, “there was snow everywhere, it was so so pretty. And although it was kinda really cold, we built super cute snowmen and made snow angels! Then I spent some time baking sugar cookies with my roommates, after that we went shopping for a bit. They had both gone out with their partners in the evening, so I went to bother (F3/N) again. It was cool though, he didn’t mind. I promise.” she giggled, finished with her rant.

Although he was sad that he hadn’t gotten the chance to make such fun memories with her, he was also pleased to hear how well she’d been doing. She sounded so joyous, so full of life, he didn’t have the heart to burden her with his gloominess.

“That sounds nice.” he faintly smiled, “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

Oh how it absolutely broke her to hear him desperately trying to support her, to keep up the image of not being bothered in the slightest. She was very close to telling him how much she missed him, how badly she wanted to see his pretty face and run her fingers through his soft messy curls. But she had to resist those temptations, for their reunion was only a few days away, and she had worked very hard to create this temporary distance between them. It was all for the end goal. Determined to follow through with her plan, she had decided to end the call early.

“Sorry, (F1/N) just messaged me. They need another pair of hands to set up the Christmas village on the table.”

“Oh, alright, yeah, you go make your house pretty. Send me a picture of the masterpiece.” She was sure to have heard her heart break right then and there.

“Of course, bubba. Okay bye, love you!”

His heart swelled a little at her words. At least she still loved him.

“Love you too.”

#corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse x you #corpse husband fic

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whatanoof · 4 years

Text

Cold Hands and Warm Bodies

Merry Christmas! This is a Secret Santa gift for @autumnleaves1991-blog!

There’s a sequel now!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Whiskey x Reader

Word Count: ~4.7k

Content: fluff, dancing, swearing, oral sex(female receiving), rougher sex, fluffy, smut, there’s a part at the beginning where Reader rejects a man’s advances but it doesn’t get past name-calling

A/N: I liked the idea of a lonely Christmas in a new city turning into something much better through unexpected events, especially since so many are going to be celebrating with less people than normal due to the pandemic. The music referenced is Gasoline by Halsey from her Badlands album.

Your parents had begged you to not complete the move over the holidays, surely it could have waited a couple of weeks so that you could celebrate with your family. But you were decided, and the timeline of your new employment was not up to you. Staying in LA for Christmas wouldn’t have benefited anyone. The confidential nature of your job meant you couldn’t talk about your job with your family, and that’s all that families really want to know besides if you have a boyfriend yet. This left more rumors flying between the aunts than bullets around a battlefield. At this point, you’re pretty sure that your own mother thinks that you’re a prostitute.

Alcohol is an easy option to curb loneliness. The drink burns on the way down, but you savor it. It’s been cold in the new city, and you haven’t been able to shake the chill since moving. Your current choice of atmosphere is the bar closest to your house, leaving you with the freedom to slam as many drinks as would let you forget how alone you are at the time of year when no one should be alone. You don’t have to drive home this way. But now, inside and looking around at the excessive Christmas decorations, you begin to wonder if this was the best way to avoid the holidays.

There are Christmas wreaths all around, draped over as many surfaces as possible. Mistletoe hangs near the corners of the cleared section of floor, and you wouldn’t be surprised if some of those corners were soon occupied by drunk dancers. Lights dangle over the bottles behind the bar, and the bartender is wearing a Christmas elf headband. And to top it all off, most everyone inside has a partner, making you stick out like a sore thumb. Your sole point of luck is that the bar isn’t Western based.

“Well, hello good-looking.”

The moment is shattered by the stranger’s arm around your shoulders, pulling you too close for the small amount of liquor in your body. The brunette man smells like spearmint, but his breath clearly reveals his state of mind.

“The name’s Grey. Now, I heard a little birdie that told me that you’d be coming home with me tonight.” His grin appears genuine, but something glitters in his eyes that sends an icy distrust through your gut.

You turn away. “No thank you.” Better not to give him any attention, drunks are never reasonable if you let them believe for even a second that they have a chance.

“Now that’s not very kind. I was being civil, and you rebuff a poor man who just wants a warm bed tonight. May I at least get the lady’s name so that I can address her properly? Where’s the Southern hospitality? ” You catch a concerned look from the bartender, though there’s no need to worry. This isn’t your first rodeo.

“Nonexistent, Grey.” You grab his wrist, yanking it off of your shoulder.

For a blissful second, the contact is gone, then it returns, and now his fingers are digging into your bare skin. His hands are cold. The handheld taser in your pocket is burning, and you reach for it as he snaps, “Now, there’s no need to be a bi--”

“Hey now,” The new voice is sudden, but there’s a distinctive Southern drawl to the baritone voice that sends pleasant tingles down your spine. Now that is a voice that you could listen to the rest of the night. “The lady said no. And last I checked, Southern hospitality doesn’t apply when said person isn’t Southern.”

The arm around your shoulders vanishes and you slowly reach for your bag. Angry voices echo behind you, but you’re too preoccupied with leaving to worry yourself with the brewing argument. Goddammit you had only come for drinks, and now you might have to duck out before a fight starts.

But the angry voices lower and the normal barroom din returns. You slowly release your bag to rest once again at your feet, and a new man appears on the stool at your elbow.

“Good evening.” It’s the rumbling voice of your faceless Southern gentleman.

He saved you, but that doesn’t mean you can trust him. Feigning disinterest is more difficult now, but you take a sip of your drink and focus hard on how the light from the glass catches the amber liquid. “Thank you for stepping up. Doesn’t happen often.”

“Unfortunately. Mostly for the men if you end up pulling that taser.” The casual observation catches your attention.

You turn and finally look your gentleman in the eye. Oh. You weren’t prepared for him to be so-- gorgeous. That’s really the only word you can summon to your scattered brain at the moment because, damn. Dark hair brings out darker eyes that glimmer warmly in the lowlights of the bar despite the cowboy hat. A mustache accents plush lips. Tan skin and bold features draw you in, and you don’t want to stop looking except he clears his throat and you realize that you’ve been staring for much longer than the appropriate time.

“Is there something on my face?” Your eyes dart back up to his face and you’re struck by how unfair it is that someone can be so effortlessly attractive.

“N-- no!” Stammering, really? Dammit you’re a full grown woman, pull yourself together. “How-- how could you tell I’m not from around here?”

He beckons a finger to you, and you lean in. “I am an undercover operative working with an American based agency that deploys me worldwide to handle top-secret missions.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back to take him in again. The jacket over the tight shirt shows his athletic build rather well, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, “Really?”

“No. It’s the accent.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. The pleased smile spreading over his face matches the one sneaking over your own. “You’re right, I just moved here.” A thought strikes you, “What are you doing alone in a bar during the holidays? No family or friends to visit?”

“None left that mean enough.” The statement is casual enough, except there’s a tension in his voice that makes you hesitate. “And I could ask you the same thing. What motivates a lady to move to a new city, all alone at Christmas?” The tension passes and he waves at the bartender, who immediately turns and starts making a drink. He’s a regular here, apparently.

“A job,” You swirl the remnants of your drink lazily before finishing it, “I’m starting tomorrow.” The last dregs slip down your throat, and the burning buzz will last for now.

“Ah, a beautiful woman and a hard worker. It’s too much for my heart.”

“If that alone is too much, then this is going to be a short evening indeed.” The subtle innuendo doesn’t fly over either of your heads, and you don’t miss the smile spreading across his face when you flirt back.

“I think I may surprise you, darling. We’re both willing to work for what we want.” His drink arrives, and he takes a sip. Heat pools in your core at the implications. “If this evening is going to continue, may I have the lady’s name so that I can address her properly?”

You hum low in your throat in response. You’ve never brought a man home at the first meeting, never allowed flirting to be anything more than that on the first night. But something’s different about this one. In a split second decision, you give it to him.

He repeats the syllables after you, rolling them around his tongue in a way that sends a thrill through you as you wonder what else he can do with it, “Gorgeous. George, another drink for the lady, on my tab.”

You tilt your head back, catching his eyes, “And may I then have the gentleman’s, so that I may know the name of my fearless knight in… shining leather and spurs?”

He laughs, “Jack Daniels.”

“Jack Daniels, like the whiskey brand?”

“Something like that.” His grin is mysterious and seems a little too practiced, but that’s fine with you. You smile back anyway. Your drink arrives, and you raise the glass to Jack as you take a sip, though you find that the burn of the whiskey doesn’t leave you with the same satisfaction.

A song starts playing in the background, and you straighten up and glance over your shoulder at the dance floor. “Wait, I--”

“--love this song.” You both finish the sentence together. You look back at him hopefully, and he looks at you with a bit of a challenge in his eyes.

The stool scrapes across the floor and he rises, extending a hand to you, “Would you care to dance, sweetheart?”

“Depends. Are we going to square dance?”

“Only if you want to, darling.”

“Yes to the dancing, no to the square dancing then.” You accept his hand and walk with him to the center of the dance floor. Your drinks remain abandoned at the bar.

The bassy thrum of the music and crooning vocals keep your hips undulating against his, but Jack has other ideas. He hasn’t let go of your hands, and your arms are crossed over your chest when he draws them up and over your head. Your arms extend and you spin, meeting his eyes as you grasp his hands.

The alternative pop song doesn’t translate perfectly to the style that he brings, but you can hardly complain. Around you, people are grinding against each other, but a small space clears for him to sway and turn with you. It’s surprisingly fun compared to what you knew of night dancing in a bar.

The tempo slows and you step inside his reach so that your back is against his chest.

‘Are you strange like me?

Lightin’ matches just to swallow up the flame like me?’

His breath catches hot and heavy in your ear as you press back into him, savoring every breath and drop of sweat that is your effect on him. The verse fades, and you allow him to lead once again. The melody swells in your head, drowning out everything around you until it’s only him and you. But this time the lyrics make you wonder about the man holding your hands.

‘Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.’

The music ends with a crescendo and a final spin, and you’re left panting as your gaze locks with Jack’s. He’s holding you firmly, one hand on your waist, and your bodies feeling like they’re steaming in the chilly air. The spell breaks with a single glance upwards from him.

“Well that’s a fine addition to an already wonderful night.” There’s a tinge of amusement in his voice, and you follow his gaze.

The mistletoe hangs directly overhead. You glance down, a thrill of nerves running through your body at the intensity in Jack’s stare. Something must have shown in your eyes or body language, because he relaxes and loosen his grip on your waist.

“Only with your permission of course, darling.” He’s fighting it, but disappointment clouds his tone, and he withdraws. “I understand if it’s not something you wan--”

You cut him off by snagging his collar and pulling him close. The surprise on his face gives way to a smirk as you quip, “Don’t mind if I do, cowboy.”

Then his lips are on yours and you’re melting into him. The bar fades into the background and you lose yourself in a man that you had met three hours ago. He tastes like your drink. Tingles spread through your body as he deepens the kiss, warming you to the tips of your fingers.

Then you’re being pressed backwards until you hit the wall, hands instinctively flying up to tangle in his already messy hair. Something soft and firm brushes your fingertips, and you snag it on instinct, lifting Jack’s hat to plop it on top of your own head. He breaks the kiss, a soft smile spreading over his face when he pulls back to look at you.

“Do I make a good cowgirl?”

“Looks better on you than me, darling.” He kisses you again, hands sliding over your waist down to your ass, and you don’t think that’s a lasso pressing up against you. A low moan rumbles out of his throat, and you stifle a whimper at the sound. He chuckles, “Want to get out of here, cowgirl?”

“Yeah.” Lust boils in your stomach. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his kiss-swollen lips that part ever so slightly so you can see his tongue flick over them.

“Got any friends to notify of your immediate departure?” His breath ghosts over your skin and his dark eyes flick up from your lips to meet yours, warming your body as you lose yourself in the deep brown.

“No, too new to the city.” You whisper back, the noise of the club fading into the background while a wave of heat crashes over your body, swelling between your legs.

“Your place or mine?”

---

Funny enough, Jack didn’t bring a car either, but he doesn’t explain and you don’t question it. You don’t regret walking the short five minutes to and from the bar, especially when Jack pulls you close to his side as you walk. You’re just passing under the bridge on your street when he stops walking.

“Stop, do you hear that?” You instantly freeze, eyes darting around for any perceivable threat. There’s too many potential hiding places, the shadows of the bridge supports could hide a man of any size and--

“Listen closely…” He hums the tune from the bar and steps away, tugging you forward a couple of steps. He pulls you back into him, and you’re able to hear the melody through the vibrations in his chest.

‘You can’t wake up, this is not a dream.’

You find your rhythm. The tempo picks up, only a shadow in your mind as you sway to the invisible beat. He matches you easily, and the two of you move with an unpracticed ease out from beneath the shadow of the bridge into the streetlight glow. The melody swells, and you laugh when a breeze ruffles your hair. You sing the last line to him.

‘Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.’

You end up back in his arms, breathing hard and smiling up at Jack. His fingers slip down to interlock with yours, “I can help with that.” You should be freezing, but heat throbs under your skin in time with your racing heart.

He leans in, but just before his lips touch yours, you whisper, “Jack? We’re here.”

His eyes shift over to your front door briefly, then back to you. He grins. “Nice place.”

---

You laugh as you stumble through your front door, your back hitting yet another wall when Jack pins you to the side of the living room. Heated kisses trail down your neck and a muscled thigh slides between yours. You shudder at the contact against your clothed pussy, your heartbeat throbbing between your legs fiercely.

“Jack, bed’s that way.”

“Oh sweetheart, that would be the end goal for sure.” Hands support your rear, and you fold your legs around him. You’re vaguely aware of him walking you towards the door that you indicated, but you can’t bring yourself to pay attention when he’s licking into your mouth and he’s so close and so warm and right there for you to enjoy. He lays you gently on the bed, legs dangling off the edge.

“You want this?” The question is so starkly unexpected that you blink and sit up for a moment. He’s standing there between your legs, hair disheveled and shirt half unbuttoned. His pupils are completely lust-blown and his shoulders are heaving with the heavy breaths he’s taking, and you’re struck with the thought that this is the first time someone has thought to ask. But you’d have to be half-dead to say no now.

“Yes.”

And then he’s undoing your pants and dropping to his knees in front of you. Warm breath ghosts over your exposed skin after he gently peels your pants off. You squirm as large, warm hands rub over your inner thighs. “Beautiful.” But he is too, with the way he glances up at you from between your legs. He’s absolutely beautiful, as he carefully pulls your panties to the side and drags his tongue through your folds.

“You taste better down here, sweetheart.” He immediately concentrates around your clit, tracing lazy circles around the sensitive nub and you forget how to breathe.

Your hips roll against his face, trying to gain more friction than what he’s giving, and you whimper as his mustache leaves a tingling trail on your skin. The heat pooling within your core is begging for more, and you’re close to doing the same as he continues to patiently taste you.

“Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. I’m going to make you feel so good, darling, you’re going to be screaming my name.” A thick finger rests against you, gathering your wetness and continuing to massage against your clit while his tongue finally dips to press against your entrance. You flutter in response, a whine scraping against the back of your throat. His tongue presses deep into your core, and you clench around the insistent pressure.

“Ja-Jack I’m go-gonna--” The words refuse to come smoothly, but he seems to sense your urgency. His tongue returns to your clit, sucking and kissing the flesh while his finger slips into your pussy.

“Come, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Every flick of his tongue against your clit pulls another whine from you. Fuck, something inside you snaps and then heat is burning through your body. The wave crests, and you dimly hear a choked moan when your floor muscles convulse and heat drips from you.

He continues to taste you long after you’ve stopped convulsing, while the light fades from you vision and you regain feeling in your limbs. And you understand something. He’s tasting you simply to taste you, giving for the sake of giving. You know why you allowed it to get past the flirting stage.

“You doing good, darling?” He climbs up over you and kisses you, lips molding to yours like they were made to. He tastes like you.

You can’t respond, don’t want to when it means pulling away from this moment right now. The only thing you want right now is to stay like this, to stay in this perfect warmth, where the only thing you know is that he’s kissing you and you’re floating on the sheer feeling of being able to give because you feel like it.

Then he shifts, and you feel his erection brush against your thigh. And your gut tells you it’s his turn now. You move your leg, bringing it up between his thighs. It bumps against his length, and he tenses, pulling away and dropping his head to the crook of your neck. And you take the moment to flip the two of you, straddling his hips.

“Give me a second, darling, have to find a condom.” His arm reappears from the edge of the bed with his wallet, but you stop him.

“I have an implant. Are you clean?”

“Last checkup, yes. And I haven’t been with anyone since.”

You smirk, “Well then I see no need.”

He exhales, arms going behind his head as he grins up at you, “I’d have to say, as enjoyable as that just was, seeing you like this?” He shakes his head, “Best part of the night.”

“It’s about to get better.” His dick is velvety hard between your thighs, and you can’t help grinding down on it just a little.

“I’ll believe it when I feel it.” He groans, head falling back against the pillow.

The challenge floats in the air, and you grab both it and his length in a single moment. He’s going to be saying your name soon. Notching it at your entrance, you sink down in a single motion. He drags against your insides so perfectly, fitting to you and filling you so completely. Your back arches at the burning stretch, but all you can focus on is Jack’s groan when your butt meets his hips, how his body seizes under you, and how his hands fly to clutch at you.

But his cock inside you isn't enough, you need more contact, need to know that he’s right there with you. You grab his wrists and drag his hands up to your breasts, relishing the moan that escapes him as he squeezes them.

Your name echoes through the air, followed by his gasping breaths as you raise yourself off of him and sink back down. The heat starts building inside you again. His hips jerk up into you, seemingly unintentionally. “God, fucking perfect. Feel so good around me. Not gonna last, not after earlier, please sweetheart.”

You grind down onto him, finding your rhythm again. The fire inside of you is constant and overtaking you. It swells on its own without needing anything else besides Jack, who’s looking up at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

“You look so good bouncing on my dick, cowgirl, but I’m going to have you under me, squirming for me while I get you to keep making all of those cute noises. I’ll be-- fuck!” His breath catches and his hands dig into the flesh of your hips, and a voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re going to have bruises tomorrow. You can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

You fight to retain your own rhythm, but it’s unsustainable, and your screaming muscles wear down in the face of Jack’s strength. They give out, and you’re caught in the rhythmic slapping of skin as Jack takes over.

“Ja- Jack! Fuck!” You can’t organize yourself enough to think, let alone acknowledge him while he continues to drive up into you. The ragged cries ripped from your throat lose all coherency. It’s too much, and the orgasm rising through your body is taking your mind with it. A hand detaches from your waist and presses directly against your clit, rocketing you further towards your climax. “Jack!”

“Come on sweetheart, I know you’ve got another in you. Let go. Let me take care of you.”

Your own orgasm hovers at the edge of your mind, but you shove it away in favor of tripping his. His breaths are coming heavier now, and his hips continue to slam upwards into yours. He’s going to outlast you at this rate, unless--

A hand grips your neck just enough that you register the pressure, and he drags you down against his body. The world flips around once more, and then you’re underneath him instead and his arms are planted on either side of your head as he-- fuck. The pace increases, no it must multiply by some large number because your body is shaking with every thrust, and the headboard is slamming against the wall and you’re glad that you don’t share these walls with anyone else. Your cry is muffled by his mouth, but the new angle causes him to drive up against something inside you that you swear makes you see a corner of heaven.

It spikes with a fury, driving you over the edge as you clamp down around him. Your body seizes, arching against Jack as the shockwaves claim your body. You’re rocketed somewhere high above the clouds for the second time tonight, and all you can really comprehend is how happy you are that you brought him home. And through the haze, you faintly hear him purring in your ear, “Good girl, pretty girl, gorgeous. Gorgeous.”

He keeps fucking you through your high, and you need him to cum. You need him to feel the same bliss that you do, and you know how to do it. The idea barely crosses your mind before your body accepts it, and your floor muscles clamp down almost of their own volition. He falters, and a gasp is the only sound you hear before he’s coming. His hips piston out and in one last time, and then he’s spilling deep inside you.

When the light fades from behind your eyes, you feel yourself being shifted. Your combined juices trickle down your leg as he pulls out, and your back is pressed against his chest. You drift, blinking in and out of consciousness. You feel him rise from behind you and then hear the sound of running water. He returns moments later, and there’s a damp cloth cleaning between your legs before he’s back in bed behind you, arms locked around your waist and pulling you close. His fingers intertwine with yours over your belly, and as they brush against the skin of your stomach, you realize that they aren’t cold anymore. He drags the comforter over your bodies.

The world around you is dissolving in a haze of exhaustion, but his voice rumbles through the fog. You’re so comfortable and warm, and by all rights you should be asleep. But you force yourself back to the world of waking, enough to hear him thanking you as he plants slow kisses along the back of your neck. The delicious warmth of his skin against yours draws you farther under and stifles the confusion at the statement, and you finally surrender to the exhaustion pulling at your body.

---

Your phone alarm wakes you the next morning to an empty bed.

Realistically, you shouldn’t have expected him to be there, shouldn’t have hoped that it could have been more than a one time thing. Right? You’re a certified badass, a top-rated handler at Statesman Distillery who has guided multiple agents and friends through life and death scenarios. You deal in realism and pessimism. You have had one night stands before, none of which led to any kind of connection. You don’t need emotional connection to function. This shouldn’t be any different. Right?

Except you know how you normally feel after one night stands, and this isn’t it.

You’re on autopilot as you shower and dress for your first day. All you can think about is the warmth of his hands as they ran over your skin, his smirk as he caught your eye, mouth glistening with your release. His quiet ‘thank you’ last night as he curled his body around yours before falling asleep. If you could have had a say, you would have wanted more than one night. A second chance, maybe, but it’s not like you get many of those these days.

Statesman Distillery is across the street from last night’s bar, and the brisk air helps to clear your head and prepare you mentally. As soon as you walk through those doors, you’re Agent Seltzer, not a girl pining for a man whom you barely know beyond his name. You hesitate under the bridge on your way to work. The music echoes in your ears and chest. You keep walking.

The receptionist directs you to your new office. Top floor, third door on the left. It’s roomier than your last one, though now you’re at HQ, not the LA branch office. A woman meets you at the elevator. She is slight, but her steely composure and short cut hair give her an air of maturity and ability.

“Good morning and Merry Christmas, Seltzer.” She’s holding a basket with a label that reads ‘Happy First Day!’ “I’m Ginger Ale, the head overseer of the base-side handlers, and I’ll be giving you the basic acclimation on your first day. Sorry that it had to be a holiday, but an impending crisis in Chicago has just taken a turn for the worse. The mission briefing has been sent to your tablet.”

Your brow furrows slightly, and she continues as if she could read your internal question. “This isn’t usually my job, but it’s the holidays and most of the other agents trained in onboarding are on leave. We’re throwing you into the deep end on your first day, unfortunately, but your superiors at the LA branch assured us that you would take to it naturally.”

She sets the gift basket on your desk, and you notice the largest item in the basket is a bottle of the famed Statesman whiskey. You idly take it out and study the label. “Interesting first day gift.”

Ginger shrugs with a faint smile, “That’s directly from your assigned field agent, Agent Whiskey. He gifts those to his new handlers.”

“Any reason why?”

“He--” She seems to start to say something, then stops herself, “It’s an early apology. He’s experienced, and he operates as he sees fit. He burns through handlers faster than a hot knife through butter.”

The challenge floats above your head at the explanation, and you take it. “I’m assuming that I will get to meet Agent Whiskey before our official briefing?”

“Yes,” Ginger checks her watch, “In about… two seconds.”

“Sweetheart.” The voice is achingly familiar, and memories of last night crash over you like a heatwave. Second chances, hm?

Part Two if anyone cares for it

#pedros12daysofchristmas #smut #fluff #agent whiskey #kingsman #statesman #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #ginger ale makes a cameo and is a tired badass

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ifeelallwrite · 3 years

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Let’s talk about Hospital Playlist. (KDRAMA REVIEW)

note: does contain spoilers

When people ask me what is my favorite Korean drama of all time, with no doubt, IT’S HOSPITAL PLAYLIST. This drama has the comic relief, the emotional scenes, realistic characters-just to name a few. No toxic relationships and petty revenge fights. Nothing else will stop me for saying that this is the ultimate feel good drama.

SYNOPSIS: The drama shows insights into the daily lives of doctors and nurses working at Yulje Medical Hospital. It focuses on 5 doctors who have been friends since medical school, who also play together as a band.

This drama encompasses so many elements and characters so bear with me yo this might be real long

Hospital Playlist is produced/written by the Shin-Lee PD and writer pairing, whose previous works were the renowned Reply trilogy and Prison Playbook (which are *chef’s kiss*) I really like that all their dramas really highlight humanism, and puts emphasis on creating a heartwarming and realistic series. There isn’t always a major conflict to be resolved, but instead it showcases how different people-in this case mostly those in the medical field-go on about their daily lives. I also liked their reasoning to produce a medical drama which was that hospitals were where the most dramatic moments occurred, for example during births, deaths or sickness. And since we are still in the Covid-19 pandemic, it ties in greatly to be paying homage to all the medical personnel saving lives. Hence, props to those who were involved in this meaningful masterpiece <3

The drama is not the usual 16 episodes, but has 12 episodes for each season (SEASON 2 IS COMING SOON YAAS) Good thing is I felt that they were still able to weave a dynamic storyline in the first season even with lesser episodes. The writing was just top-notch with the witty humor bits. Additionally, the music is AMAZING. I love the concept of the main characters being a band and playing different songs every episode too.

Okay, now onto the characters. I thought that every character in this drama was well rounded. Starting of with the main five characters, also known as The 99ers, whose distinctive personalities and natural chemistry make all of them extremely likeable. All main characters are professors of different specialties, and I find the male OB-GYN (Seokhyeong) and female neurosurgeon (Songhwa) very refreshing. Also, I like Shin-Lee dramas always have characters that might be realistic yet hardly seen in other dramas or films. For example, Professor Ahn Jeongwon. Despite being a chaebol (inheritor/heir), he isn’t depicted as a spoilt brat or a cold character, instead as a warm Pediatric doctor who uses his wealth to secretly support patients in need. However it makes him stingy to his friends LOL

To be honest, I really thought I was gonna dislike Junwan due to his cold and tsundere nature. I pretty much believed that he was going to be the party pooper type of the bunch, but with the writer being a master of character development, he turned out to be really sincere and hilarious at times. Same for Ikjun, who apart from his enthusiastic and happy go lucky exterior, cares the most about the people around him. Although Seokhyeong seemed detached and introverted, he shows a emotional side to his friends as well as his mother. Songhwa is literally a girlboss though haha she’s smart, capable and gets along with everyone well. And she’s the most sane out of the bunch.

With all the main characters, we have the relationships. Junwan is the first to date seriously with Iksun (the dog or Micky? jkjk) who is Ikjun’s sister. When it first happened I was like not again Jung Kyung Ho (bc he dated his best friend’s sis in prison playbook too LMAO) I think their relationship was realistic and open. It also showed a more sensitive side to Junwan who would do anything for her. I especially liked how he said he didn’t need access to her phone because he trusted her. Yet as all couples do, they have their fair share of ups and downs. Like conflicts on getting married and a long distance relationship as Iksun moves overseas for graduate studies. I don’t really know how to take the ambiguous ending for these two, as Junwan receives the returned box (that has the ring he sent) I really hope nothing bad happens to these two though.

I’m sure we all love Wintergarden couple though, tbh they’re kinda my OTP at the moment 🤣 It was pretty much a ‘will they won’t they’ relationship with a relatively slow build. I think Gyeoul turned out to be one of my favourite characters. Shin Hyun Been did a good job at portraying her as a straightforward but innocent Resident, who is pretty much openly crushing on Jeongwon. The scenes they had together were adorably awkward (and the scene where he gives her chocopies omg) And when Jeongwon battles his inner conflict to become a priest, the final decision where they kiss was beautifully shot, with the actors both showcasing their emotions extremely well.

Then we have Chihong who pursues Songhwa, his professor. Midway through the drama, it is also shown that Ikjun and Songhwa might have had romantic feelings for each other. Songhwa ends up rejecting Chihong’s confession. In my opinion, Chihong was quite a interesting character but I didn’t really like him at the end. (I like the actor though) He did a real jerk move during drinking games, insisting on Ikjun to confess his feelings towards her even though he is already trying not to put Songhwa in an awkward spot. Although his character did end up making a cool exit and when I thought about his incredible story of soldier to doctor, I kinda regret disliking him that much. As for IkSong, In the final episode Ikjun confesses to her one last time, and we are left waiting for Songhwa’s reply. As much as I love this pairing, I don’t think that the ship will sail or maybe not as quickly as we think. I believe Songhwa would meticulously consider the sacrifices to their friendship or other aspects and might not be able to bring herself to it, but I hope it’s otherwise.

Lastly not forgetting Seokhyeong and Minha, another Professor+resident pairing. This one’s a bit ambiguous though, mainly because there hasn’t been much romantic development. To me, the most impactful scene came from Minha who had been irritated by continuous night shifts and was on the verge of a breakdown. She ended up remarkably saving a patient, starting off surgery on her own for the first time. Oh man Minha was such a lovable character, I remember feeling so bad for her but extremely proud of her for her accomplishment. Although Seokhyeong seemed a bit aloof and distant (which was intentional bc he’s an introvert) I think the backstory and all the hardships he faced with his family really made me feel for him. I hate to break it to you, but I’m not so sure if the ship will sail because of the phone call from his ex-wife and Minha’s somewhat rejected confession. But who knows, they might pull off a twist 👀

Apart from all these characters, there are more characters HHAHAH However, I think this is the killing point of ShinLee dramas. Unlike typical dramas which usually focuses on a main character and 2-3 side characters, they like to cast a diverse range of actors (especially those from theatre/musicals and lesser known drama/movie actors) while actually give their characters personality or a reason to be there. I’ve seen many dramas where extras or side characters were kind of irrelevant thus making me feel that they weren’t needed to build the storyline, yet ShinLee dramas hit different y’all. Every role, no matter how small, holds significance to the drama. It really seemed like a collaborative work that shows off every actors skills (and not forgetting staffs) and teamwork.

Anyways because there are way too many characters and too many scenes for me to mention them all, I’ll just talk about some honourable mentions heheh

1. Sunbin and Seokmin confession scene (ahh so cute)

I kinda sensed that they liked each other at the start but I didn’t know Seokmin would ask her out on a date at the end. Even though it’s kinda awkward that they are dating and working with each other though (both are in the same department) but hey the confession was cute and awkward and just warm and fuzzy 🥰

2. MAMA ROSA IS THE QUEENN

I think we all (would) love Mama Rosa because she’s a real one ☝️ (probably the coolest mother ever) She’s feisty, hilarious and kind to others. Plus her friendship with Ju Jong Su was just adorable and super wholesome. The scenes where they were supporting one another through tough times and hanging out with each other when they felt lonely always put a smile on my face. Oh and how Mama Rosa treated Gyeoul was extremely sweet. (as well as Seokhyeong’s mother) Despite her tough exterior, she’s a likeable character for being a strong but caring woman.

3. Just Do Jae Hak

I seriously love this guy so muchhh omg he’s so funny

Do Jae Hak has a funny amd clumsy personality, though it’s clear he’s been through a lot and is strong willed person. From admitting his indecisiveness to counselling Jun Wan on his love issues, there’s literally nothing to hate about him.

4. Uju and his dadd

The father and son chemistry between these two is so good omg. The scenes with these two are so adorable and heartwarming (not to mention hilarious) It’s amazing to see how Ikjun cares so much for Uju despite his hectic workdays while going through infidelity issues with his ex-wife. Uju is matured for his age and shows his love and appreciation for his dad too, making their interaction a great portrayal of a healthy family relationship💞

5. the food stealing the show🥘

Who doesn’t love food and when a show has great food scenes? Some of the best scenes are definitely when the 99s gather to eat. It really showcases each character’s personality with the tiniest details as well as highlight warm delicious meals. Just don’t watch this when you’re hungry at 2am in the morning guys you’ll be drooling all over your screens HAHAHA

Of course there are way more aspects, like Hongdo and Yoonbok, Ikjun and Iksun’s pigeon jokes and raps, or Jeongwon drunk crying in the chicken shop with his brother (who was his coach in Reply 1994 when he played Chilbong LOL)

Most importantly, I think it is the themes and messages that you get from the drama that really create such a lasting impression. Not only does it hit you in the feels with the hardships of hospital patients, or the hardworking doctors+nurses who are working long shifts saving lives, it also tackles topics of friendships through the possibilities of platonic and friends-to-lovers relationships. However I think the biggest lesson for me came from Seokhyeong, who learns to live his life doing what he want, with the people he treasures. Although the drama might seem slow at times (mainly because there isn’t really a main plot line/conflict occurring), but this drama would still bring you on a journey where you would laugh, cry and finish the series, begging for season 2 ✌🏻

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songbirdstyles · 4 years

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call me.

summary: being quarantined away from harry is absolute torture - until it isn’t.

warnings: smut, some fluff and angst if you squint! phone sex <3

word count: 3.4k

song inspo.: call me - blondie

You haven’t been sleeping too well since the beginning of quarantine - whether it’s the stress of what feels like the world ending or the noticeable absence of your boyfriend, lying beside you, you can’t be sure. All you know for sure is that it takes you nearly three hours of lying in bed, staring up at your ceiling in the dark and being entirely too aware of the empty space beside you in bed, to finally be able to get a few hours of sleep. And you’d even resorted to shifting to Harry’s side of the bed, where his pillow faintly smelled of his cologne, but it did little to put you out of your insomnia-induced misery.

It was a cruel twist of fate to end up quarantined on nearly opposite ends of the world from Harry. He was merely supposed to be in LA for a week or two, and you were supposed to go with him until you’d gotten sick at the last minute - and it hadn’t been a big deal, until the global pandemic locked you in London and him in California. And now, you’re wishing more than anything that you’d ignored the cold niggling the back of your throat and utilized your ticket to the states - it would’ve made the entire situation decidedly less miserable than it is.

The light of your phone screen illuminated from your nightstand tells you, in its glaring bright intensity, that it’s 3:21 in the morning. If you squint out of the window, curtains pulled open, you swear you can already see the sun, poking insistently above the horizon - but, no, surely not yet. You pray you have a little bit of time left to try and get some sleep before your biological clock forces you up.

(It’s not looking too good, though, as another minute ticks past on your phone and your eyelids still aren’t feeling the heaviness you’re craving.)

Perhaps you’ve grown too accustomed to curling up beside Harry’s body, feeling his breath against your neck when you occasionally wake up at this time for an early morning shag. And maybe you’ve been a bit spoiled, traveling with him more as your relationship progresses over the past three years - but you hadn’t suspected it would be so horrible for your sleep schedule to not have him around. Bad for your sanity, perhaps, but do you really need his body wrapped around yours to get even a wink of shut-eye during the night?

The answer was, apparently, yes, as more minutes tick on your phone and you’re still wide awake. LA is 8 hours behind London, approximately, so if it’s 3:27 in the morning here -

You’re grabbing your phone off of your nightstand without bothering to finish the math problem you’ve conjured up. Harry’s the most recent person you’ve texted and you swipe open your conversation, finger hovering briefly above the call button before tapping it gently.

There’s a chance - a small, miniscule one - that he won’t be awake. You’ve been texting him nearly every minute of every day, constantly calling him and FaceTiming and you know his sleep schedule is worsening like yours. He goes to sleep later and wakes earlier and takes naps scattered all throughout the day, so you’re prepared, emotionally, for him to not answer your call. You’ll be disappointed, perhaps, but there’s a bottle of melatonin in your bathroom you’ve been trying not to abuse during the nighttime. It makes you drowsy for working online and continues to afflict you during the day, so you’ve been trying to stay away from them.

Doesn’t mean you won’t use them, though. You simply don’t want to - if Harry doesn’t answer so you can chat until you’ve tired yourself out, then you’ll make the trek into the bathroom and succumb to the stupid pills -

“‘Lo?”

Your heartbeat picks up as you push yourself to sit up further in bed, pressing your phone close to your ear. You should’ve expected that your boyfriend would be awake now, considering it’s only 7:30 in LA, but it still brings a smile to your face to hear his voice.

“Hey, babe,” you murmur, voice quiet in the darkness of your room. There’s no one around for the loudness of your voice to disturb, but it still feels right to keep it low. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

Harry chuckles on the other end, and you try to picture what he’s doing. When he’s home you’re usually eating dinner at this time, or curled up on the TV watching a movie, or fucking in the bedroom - “‘Course not. Jus’ got off the phone wit’ m’mum an’ had t’shower. She misses us.”

“I miss her too,” you tell him, smile widening at the thought of Anne. Yes, you miss her quite a bit - she’s always been kind to you, and more of a second mother than merely the mum of your boyfriend - but you have some sort of ulterior motive for calling him, so you figure you should get right to it. “I miss you a lot, Har. The apartment’s awfully empty without you here.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, for just a second, before Harry’s responding, “I miss you too - ‘course I do. Wish I’d canceled this stupid fuckin’ LA trip - I’d do anything t’be home wit’ you now.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head back against the headboard of a bed that’s feeling entirely too big for you right now. You’d always complained that Harry slept like a starfish and took up entirely too much space, but you’d swim across the ocean to curl up in bed with him for just one single night. “I haven’t been sleeping much, either. Guess I’m too used to having you here with me. You know, waking up with you on top of me and middle-of-the-night sex.”

“Middle-of-the-night sex,” Harry sighs dreamily, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth with the beginnings of a smirk working its way onto your face. “God, I miss that. M’hand just can’t do the things you can. Doesn’t even come close, really.”

“I hope so.” And you give him a moment to bark out a laugh before continuing, clammy palm pressed to your bare thigh beneath your comforter, “My fingers aren’t doing too much, either. They’re not as big as you - can’t get me off an inch.”

His breathing is growing heavier, loud even through the phone, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him - you’re horny and he’s surely getting hard and you’d like nothing more than for him to help you get off. Just his voice, slightly raspy and deepening with every syllable, is enough to make wetness pool in your panties. “Jesus, doll - gonna make m’hard.” And then there’s a pause, where you’re surely meant to respond but all you can do is grin and try to control your breathing, before Harry murmurs, “S’what what you wanted? Wanted t’make my dick hard?”

You nod, and then breathe, “Yeah.”

“Bloody hell, you’re a minx, y’know that?” And you did, in fact, know that, so you confess your affirmations. “Guess that’s why y’woke me, then. Need me t’tire you out, don’t you.”

It isn’t a question - Harry can read you like a book, even 5,000 miles away, and he knows exactly what your intentions are. “I just miss you.” His soft, cocky laugh on the other end has you sliding your hand up your thigh, pushing your digits into your lace panties and feeling the wetness present in the apex. “Really - I miss you, and your dick - just please help me get off, Har. Won’t bother you with it ever again.”

“Don’t have t’take it that far,” but you’re hardly listening to him. The first circle of your fingers on your clit has you moaning quietly into the receiver, and you can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath at the sound. “Startin’ without me, are you? S’awfully rude.”

“You’re taking too long,” you exhale, running your fingers through your soaked folds - but you pause, anyway, listening intently to the shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Got me so wet, just hearing you talk.”

When another second goes by with no response you pull your phone from your ear, pressing the speaker button and resting it on your tummy. You grab your comforter and pull it off the bottom half off your body, letting the cold air hit your bare legs, just as Harry groans, “Okay - m’ready. Had t’go back t’my room - but m’here now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking just a moment to listen to his quiet grunts and imagine exactly what he looks like right now - sitting on the edge of his bed, pumping his cock, slow and steady at first, just to get started. “Wish you were here with me,” and as eager as you’d been to have your first phone sex experience, you hadn’t counted on the slight awkwardness that makes it harder for the words to come out. “Been - been dreaming about it, about you fucking me so good, and I wake up drenched, Har, just thinking about you.”

Just as you’d expected, Harry takes over almost immediately - he’s much better at dirty talk than you are and it’s only proven when he moans, “M’always thinking of it, fucking your pretty little cunt ‘till you’re crying. And you love it, don’t you? Moanin’ so good for me, so loud - the way you cry when I pinch your clit - can y’do that f’me, doll? Pinch your clit, just the way I do it.”

Shaking fingers dip out of your folds and trail the wetness up to where you need it most - the sensitive nub that’s throbbing for your touch. Just as he’d asked, you use two fingers to softly pinch your clit, the small action sending waves of euphoria flowing through your body as you drop your head back with a cry. It reverberates through the room, louder than any of your moans and whines, exactly as Harry had wanted.

“Wish you could do it -” you do it again and give him the same resounding cry, circling your clit one more time before dragging your fingers back down to slide between your folds. “Your fingers, they’re so much bigger than mine - feel so much better.”

“Fingering y’self?” His voice is nearly whiny with excitement and you know exactly how he looks now, his bottom lip between his teeth and sweat beading up on his cupid’s bow. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can’t quite describe it, even if you’re desperate too. Fingers curl in your cunt, brushing against the sweet spot inside of you that has your back arching off the bed, nipples pebbled and hard against the material of your soft tank top. One isn’t enough, and it doesn’t fill you nearly as much as Harry’s so you add another, taking just a second to run it through your dripping folds before pushing it in. “Oh, god - feels so good, thinking of you - two of mine s’hardly one of yours.”

To that, you get a loud groan, mingled with a low cry that sends chills crawling up your spine. For a second he doesn’t respond and you wonder if he’s cumming already - but then he’s grunting, “Miss you, on all fours f’me - s’how I’ll take you first when we see each other. G’na let me pull your hair, know you love when I do that -”

You do love it, and merely remembering the feeling of him, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling your head up when it starts to droop onto the mattress, has your walls clenching around your digits, and you impulsively add a third.

“ - or maybe I’ll jus’ bury my head in tha’ cunt of yours. Miss the taste of it so much,” and Harry’s voice picks up, in speed and pure excitement, and you can hear the faint sound of him, pumping his cock. It’s hard to think of anything you’d love more than to watch him eat you out for bloody hours, fisting his hair and tugging on his curls just to hear his sobs. The way he flicks his tongue against your folds and slaps your clit when you squeeze your eyes shut in pure euphoria. “Taste so sweet f’me, don’t you - taste y’self for me, doll. Know you taste so good.”

Harry’s got such a hold on you, sometimes - perhaps you’d even say all the time but especially during moments like these. So you don’t hesitate to pull your fingers out of your cunt, walls fluttering around the sudden emptiness, and you bring the digits up to your mouth. Slowly your tongue swirls around your fingertips before wrapping your lips around them, and the soft moan as you taste yourself has Harry whining on the other end, the noise long and low.

Normally, when Harry asks you to do something like this you would put on an absolute show for him. Pumping your lips up and down his shaking digits, eyes never leaving his as his lips slowly part in a needy pant. And - of course - you’d always know that, when you pulled your mouth off of his fingers, you’d be absolutely in for it, and that was the thrill of it. He can’t see you (FaceTime sex is something you’ll need to bring up another day) but you still perform, adding more volume and less eye contact with the darkness around you.

His breathing is rattly when you drop your fingers down to your thighs, fingernails curling into the soft skin as you would do his back or his scalp. You give him briefly a second to take everything in, the images he must be producing, before you breathe, “Tell me what you’re doing, Har.”

“M’gonna cum soon - gonna cum on m’fist, imaginin’ s’your pussy -”

“Yeah? Imagining me sitting on your cock, right?”

By Harry’s resounding moan - the exact noise he makes when you ride him and he tosses his head back in ecstasy - you can assume that he hadn’t been imagining that, but he surely is now, and so are you. God, the way you lean back, hands to his thighs, feelings his palms run up your stomach. And they’ll circle your tits, tweaking your nipples with a lazy smirk at how fast they pebble in his fingertips, before dragging down to your clit, on display for him - and he moves them so slow, but he knows you’re aching for it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing two fingers to circle your clit and sensually dragging your free hand up to your boobs as Harry moans, “Your pussy s’so tight around me - g’na fuck you so hard when I see you - you’re not gonna walk for weeks.”

It sounds absolutely dreamy as two of your fingers pinch at your nipple, closing your eyes tighter. If Harry were here he’d grab the back of your head, force your body down to his so he could lap at your nipples and relish in your sobs - and you can’t do that, necessarily, but you bring your thumb up to your tongue, licking the shaking digit before lowering it back to your nipple. It doesn’t give nearly the same effect but it’s close enough, and you can feel your cunt fluttering with desperation to cum.

“Playin’ with my tits, Harry - pinching them just how you do.” You swallow back the urge to sob out, if only because the noise will trigger just the sort of choked up moan from your boyfriend that’ll send you over the edge and you want to last longer, dammit. “Oh, god -”

“Y’cummin’, baby?”

“No,” you exhale, “not yet -”

“Good,” and you can tell merely from the teasing lilt in his voice that you won’t last past the end of his sentence (and his staccato pants are already enough to have your clit throbbing beneath your touch), “‘cause I keep thinkin’ about that time - fuck - that time we shagged in y’mum’s house, remember? An’ I had to put y’knickers in your mouth, ‘cause you were -” and his rant is cut off by the telltale whine that’s almost always accompanied by him cumming near violently - “bein’ too loud, an’ we didn’t want your mum to hear? Be loud f’me, babe, please, need t’hear you -”

You remember that - how he was fucking you so goddamn hard your bed was hitting the wall and he had to drag you to the floor, pressed to your carpet with your drenched lace panties in your mouth. And Harry tossed your legs over his shoulder like it was nothing, pounded you into the carpet while your mum was asleep just a few doors down the hall, hand firm around your throat. He’d never done that before and God, you love it. Love it almost as much as you love him, but you figure you shouldn’t dwell on it now.

His words have the exact impact he’d hoped for and your head slams into your headboard with a choked up cry, loud through your room and into your phone, still resting on your sweaty stomach. Wetness coats your fingers as your assault on your clit continues, arm shaking with the pressure of riding yourself through the orgasm while still trying to listen to Harry - he’s sobbing out, sound of skin against skin growing louder until you hear the euphoric groan that tells you he’s reached the same high you have.

It’s a gorgeous harmony of your moans mixing together - his crackling through the speaker that’s been used and abused during your little session - and you know you’ll never get tired of it. No matter how many times you do this - for as long as you’re apart - you’ll never, ever get tired of it.

Your body is still trembling when the shockwaves of your orgasm start to wither down. There’s a thin sheet of sweat, coating your body and beading in your hairline and your fingers are covered with your cum, the bed sheets beneath you damp, too. You’ve only ever squirted a few times before - in Harry’s mouth, for the most part, with that bloody talented tongue he’s got - and you wipe the slick onto your thighs before sitting further upwards, grabbing your phone.

Harry’s silent on the other end and you squint at the screen to check the time. Your vision is clouded - perhaps your brain is simply clouded - but you reckon it says 4:00.

“Jesus,” he breathes on the other end, hardly audible through the phone. In your mind’s eye you can picture him, passed out on the bed with his legs still dangling off, running a hand through his hair to try and alleviate the sweat sticking to the curls. “Gonna have t’shower again.”

You smile, shifting back down so you’re fully lying in bed. There’s still a wet spot beneath your arse and your back but you’ll worry about it when you wake up (whenever that may be.) The idea of even moving back over to your usual side of the bed sounds like pure torture, because if you bury your nose in Harry’s pillow, it smells like his cologne with just a hint of the strawberry shampoo he sometimes steals from you. “Tired me out there, Mr. Styles.”

There’s the sound of rustling on the other end of the phone before Harry’s murmuring back, “M’glad - y’need to get some sleep, y’know. S’not good for you to be up so late.”

“I know.” Your eyes are already beginning to feel heavy as minutes continue to click down on your phone, and hearing his soft breathing is fucking therapeutic. If you close your eyes (which feels oh so good) you can almost feel him, body tight around you as he pulls your back to his chest, nestling his nose in your locks with a deep inhale that never fails to make you giggle. “I love you, Har.”

God, you can almost hear him smiling on the other end. You miss it so much - his smile - but just him, and feeling his arms around you, heartbeat against your spine lulling you to sleep. Whenever quarantine is over and you’re free to go to him, you won’t wait a second. You’ll hop on the first plane - you’ll fucking tape yourself to the side of it, if you have to.

For now, though, hearing him sleepily mumble, “I love you more, babe,” is enough. And you keep your phone planted on your chest, Harry’s steadying breathing like music to your ears as you settle in for what’s gearing up to be the best goddamn sleep of your life.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #my tenth fic!#ik it isnt that big of a deal but i remember writing early risers and thinking nobody was ever gonna read it #let alone enjoy it #and now look at me #i wrote this sucker in like three days and i actually like it a lot which is crazy for me #im very inspired by blondie recently #harry styles writing

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salmonmakiii · 4 years

Note

Hiii I’d like to request a time stamp please! 01:25 with boyfriend Kuroo, all fluff pls 🥺

I’m sorry for the late updates T_T I didn’t know my college schedule will be THIS packed T_T Here ya go!

[01:25]

About : Kuroo x reader Note : Fluff, nekoma rich, Kuroo being a whiny boyfriend >:( Sorry if I have any mistakes!

“HAHAHAH,”

“Tetsu! Stop laughing in my ear!”

You hit your boyfriend’s chest jokingly as he slowly calmed down from his laugh and let out a “sorry”.

Being stuck in quarantine with Kuroo was fun. For the past month, you two would either be cuddling all day in bed, trying new recipes from TikTok, making TikTok with him, or just lay around the house doing nothing. There are a few times where he had to do his work, but with the pandemic right now, he didn’t have a lot he needed to do.

You, on the other hand, didn’t have a job yet. You were about to find one but quarantine strikes first before you could. Kuroo was fine with it since his job could already fulfill your daily needs, that and maybe someone wanted you to be available whenever he needs cuddles after a stressful zoom meeting.

These days were just one of those days where you tow had been cuddling in bed all day, only to wake up a few times to get something to eat and then to go to the bathroom only to fall back asleep in each other’s arms.

That was a big mistake though. Both of you were now wide awake in the middle of the night and your boyfriend suggested to watch some of The Office episodes. The two of you got bored of it after watching five episodes, Kuroo then decided to go back to memory lane as he searched “iconic vines that…” on youtube and now both of your cheeks were sore from laughing and smiling.

When the youtube video ends, your boyfriend used his left hand to move the cursor to peek at the time while his right was still rested around your shoulders.

“Babe,” He called, you looked up from your phone to your boyfriend.

“Yeah?”

“I think we messed up our sleep schedule,” He let out a chuckle. You looked at the time on your phone and smiled.

“I guess we did,” You shook your head, fixing up your position to stretch out your limbs. Kuroo moved the laptop from the bed to the nightstand.

“You tired yet?” He asked, stretching his hands.

“Nope,” You smiled, leaning in as you kissed your boyfriend on the lips. Pulling back a little to stare at his handsome face. Kuroo gave you a grin as he leaned in once more to kiss you. You cupped his cheeks as he moved his lips on yours and you pulled back abruptly as you squinted your eyes.

“Why is your face so dry?” You asked, rubbing your thumb on your boyfriend’s cheeks.

“Dry? I don’t know,” He answered shortly, clearly uninterested in the current topic as he leaned down once again. You halt him and let out a laugh when he groaned.

“I have an idea!” You exclaimed, letting go of your boyfriend as you scrambled off the bed to go to your drawer.

“If it doesn’t involve you cuddling me and giving me kisses, I don’t want any part of it,” His child-like grumble made you laugh. You took out a few of your skincare products and put them all on the bed.

“We’ve been doing that for a whole day, Testu.”

Kuroo jutted his lips as he looked at you with those sad, cat-like eyes and his hair seemed like cat ears as it went a little droopy. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“We can have that after I put chemicals on your face.”

Kuroo muttered a “Fine,” as he scooted closer to look at the products on the bed.

“Now come on, let’s wash up our face.” You smiled at him, Kuroo groaned once again as he lazily made his way to the bathroom, his feet dragging on the floor.

“Come on!” You said, pushing him to walk faster to the bathroom.

Finally arriving at the bathroom, you gave Kuroo one of your hair bands. Your boyfriend looked at the hairband and then at you. If you wanted him to do things your way, might as well be a little hard to get.

“Can you put it on for me, please?” He asked in a gentle and yet teasing tone but you did as he asked, since he looked so cute. Now that his rooster hair was out of his face, he continued to put his face wash on his face, rubbing it and then applying it to his cheeks first, you follow after him with your own and you both decided to brush your teeth right after.

When both of you finished, Kuroo handed you your towel as he wiped his face with his. You thanked him and walked back towards the bedroom with Kuroo following behind you. You plopped down on the bed and grinned at your boyfriend who’s towering over you.

“Now, let’s begin!”

“You’re weirdly excited about this simple thing.”

You gave Kuroo your toner and he looked at you with an offended look. You tilt your head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?” You asked,

“I thought you were going to put it on for me?” He pouted, jutting his lips out.

“Tetsurou, I swear, you’re a child!” You laugh. Nonetheless, you sat crosslegged, putting two pillows on top of your legs and patting it, gesturing for him to lay down his head there.

Kuroo smiled victoriously and laid his head down, his body bounced just a little as he plopped his body on the mattress. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt your hand ran through his hair.

“You’re so spoiled,” You planted a kiss on his forehead and put a few drops of the toner to a piece of facial cotton. Kuroo only hummed as he relaxed when you pressed the cotton to his face, the pressure you gave him felt like you were massaging his face.

Putting the cotton and toner aside, you reached out to the mini-fridge near you to get those facial masks. Kuroo said something about that fridge being used for drinks, but you put in some of your skincare there anyways. You took out your facial masks, choosing the right one for your boyfriend’s dry skin. Kuroo was still closing his eyes, hearing you rummage through things.

“What’s taking you so long?” He asked, opening his eyes and looking up at you.

“I’m choosing a facial mask for you,” You said, not glancing at him as you continued to search.

“I’d take anything, honestly,” He shrugged, closing his eyes once more. You let out an “Aha!” and tapped Kuroo’s head. Your boyfriend opened his eyes to see you smiling.

“Wanna wear this one? It’s for dry skin.”

“Yeah sure.” He closed his eyes once again.

Kuroo knew what masks they are, he saw you wear it a few times around the house. He even got scared by you when you wore a black one. If he remembered correctly, this was the one where it was like cloth but soaked in some moisturizer…? He shakes the thought away and just went with the flow.

What Kuroo forgot was that this was fresh out of the fridge and it was cold. The second the mask touched his skin he jolted and sat up, looking at you.

“Jeez, babe! Warn me next time! That thing is below freezing temperature!” He complained and you laughed at him, still holding the mask with your fingertips.

“Sorry! Sorry! Lay down and let me apply it to you.”

Kuroo glared at you as he grumpily lay down on the pillow. You laugh silently and warned him by counting. Kuroo flinched a little at the sudden cold touch, but as the mask covered more of his face, he relaxes. You let out a content sigh and gently stood up, Kuroo noticed your absence and let out a groan.

“Where are you going?” He whined,

“Will you stop being a child, Tetsu?” You giggled, reaching for your moisturizer on the table across your bed. “I’m just going to do my routine.” You heard another groan leave him.

“When do I take this off?” He asked,

“In 15 minutes,” Kuroo groaned once more and reached for his phone beside him, opening his social media.

Fifteen minutes passed by pretty quickly. Kuroo had set up a timer and he immediately called out your name to take the mask off. You shook your head as you move from your comfortable spot on the bed. You peeled the mask off and he let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for ages.” He said. you saw him about to wipe his face with a towel and you quickly stopped him, pulling his face to you.

“Do NOT wipe them off!” You warned while Kuroo raised an eyebrow.

“But my face’s so slimy,”

“You’re supposed to spread it all over your face,”

You began spreading the excess serum on both of his cheeks, gently putting on pressure to massage his face. Kuroo visibly relaxed and leaned into your touch. A few seconds of massaging his face, you finally let go and moved back to lay down on your spot once more. Kuroo throwing his body beside you. His hand reached for the light switch on top of your bed and the room grew dark, the soft light from the closed curtains being the only light source.

“Now, where’s my cuddle and kisses?” Kuroo asked in a raspy voice.

His hands were already around you and his lips were grazing yours. You giggle at him before closing the gap between you. Kuroo’s lips formed a smile once you started taking the lead, that giddy feeling he always liked resurfaced. Kuroo initiated to put sloppy kisses on your cheeks but stopped and pulled back.

“Ack! Ew!” Kuroo stuck his tongue out as he tried to get rid of the weird taste in his mouth. You stared at him confused before understanding what happened.

“You tasted my night serum didn’t you?” You chuckled, Kuroo frowned and turned to you.

“Yeah, and it tastes BAD,”

“Well, what do you expect?” You laughed, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Something sweet! Don’t they have some kind of strawberry flavor or something?”

“They don’t, Tetsu.”

“Well, they should!”

A good five minutes went by as you hear your boyfriend's complaints before the two of you were out cold. In the morning though, Kuroo was surprised at how soft his skin felt as he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Babe! My face is as soft as a baby’s bum!”

Maybe he’ll let you take care of his skin-care from now on.

#Haikyuu #Haikyuu!!#Haikyuu Fluff #Haikyuu!! Fluff #Haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu!! x reader #Kuroo Tetsuro #Kuroo #Kuroo Tetsuro Fluff #Kuroo Fluff #Kuroo Tetsuro x reader #Kuroo x reader #Kuroo Imagines #Kuroo Scenario #Kuroo Tetsuro Imagines #Kuroo Tetsuro Scenario

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

give it a chance ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au; friends to lovers au

❖ word count : 9,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slightly suggestive & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : you convinced yourself to attend a party in order to prevent Lee Minho from doing stupid things; however it’s not so stupid anymore when your roommate said he needed to tell you something important.

❖ a/n : the continuation of what if we is dedicated to @chaninfused, so *clears throat* this is where I hereby declare that she deserves more than what the entire universe can possibly give her; oh hi furat, this is why I’ve been so cryptic all this time. I know this isn’t much but I want to thank you for tolerating me and letting me be mean to you even though we only started talking for a few months; you’re an incredibly great friend and an amazing writer, don’t ever forget that 🖤

one.

It’s been almost a week since Jisung last talked to Minho (albeit texts and FaceTime) and he wakes up to his best friend roaming around his crusty kitchen, struggling to find a bottle of honey. Seungmin’s mom has been constantly sending them thirty packets of rib soup per week. And Minho thinks the sight of Han Jisung slurping on nothing but distorted rice with pork ribs while stressing over his paper for seven days straight is more tragic than his non-existent love life.

“It’s like you’re trying to turn us into gym rats,” Hyunjin snickers lazily, flinging his bangs away from his face. “You even brought us Tupperwares, are you really expecting us not to order tacos impulsively on study nights?” He’s a little dubious about stuff like this because he can feel the actual horror of only eating chicken breast and string beans just by seeing Chan cooking them up.

Seungmin chucks a piece of lettuce towards his direction, “Don’t you have anything else to do other than complaining?” He knows that when Jisung and Hyunjin decide to order food on study nights, they’re gonna do anything but study.

“Uhm, I actually do,” he replies nonchalantly. “I’m going through Minho’s phone.”

Jisung takes a seat next to him by the counter, propping his head onto his hands, “What’s the point? There’s nothing but cat photos and cat memes...and also Y/N as his background.”

“That angle is hideous, by the way,” Hyunjin comments like the true photography geek he is, which is completely ignored by Minho because he’s too cranky to start a fight at ten in the morning. “But it’s kinda cute for you to do that, so I’m gonna turn a blind eye.”

Jisung asks out of the blue, “Who’s going to BamBam’s party this Sunday? Well, besides the other two-thirds of 3RACHA.”

“I have a midterm on Monday, dumbass,” Seungmin mumbles while washing his vegetables at the sink.

“And I’m sleeping over at Lix’s for a project,” Hyunjin informs him lamely, having no intention to attend another single frat party. At least not BamBam’s frat parties—that guy has the weirdest friends; a chick was so drunk that she thought Hyunjin was her boyfriend and almost tried to make out with him on the dance floor.

Jisung secretly hates going to parties without his friends- no, actually, he never goes to parties without people from his social circle because he dreads the whole introduction part that requires formalities and inevitable awkwardness. But it’s not like that with Minho, ten minutes into their very first conversation and he feels like he’s known him for years.

In short, he will die if Minho doesn’t come to the party. Chan can only chat with him for so long until his DJ duty occurs and Changbin’s probably gonna be too busy doing keg stands to care about his antisocial friend.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Minho gives in while chopping up the chicken breasts and this prompts Jisung to clap happily like a seal for the next twenty seconds as he skips over to the fridge to fetch a water bottle. “But we’re gonna need a ride, I’m not taking my motorbike for some crackhead to puke on it. Ask Chan later when you crash at his place.”

Jisung tosses his head back to take a peek at the clock hanging by the bookshelf, and it reads 10:07 AM. He really should be getting for his class at eleven because traffic sucks but he’s not feeling like sitting through two hours of Park ranting about marketing strategies. “Can’t Y/N just drive us? I don’t think she’d let anyone else take you home when you’re not sober,” he ponders, earning a nod of agreement from both of his roommates.

Just when Minho opens his mouth to brush it off, he stops himself to process the information again and holds back a ‘you’re right’ because he hates letting people know that they’re not wrong. He wouldn’t let anyone drive you home when you’re drunk either. “Her car’s with her dad right now,” he tries to sound casual when three pairs of curious eyes are glued onto his back. “I, uh, sorta had it run into a tree last week.”

“You what? How are you still alive?” Hyunjin’s jaw is on the floor and Seungmin accidentally dumps too much vinegar into his salad while Jisung’s choking on the iced cold water, coughing furiously after into the sleeve of his hoodie. Guess Chan’s gonna have to drive them both. After all, he can never say ‘no’ to J.One.

Minho murmurs, “A dude rear-ended me, fucking idiot.” He finishes marinating the chicken breasts and arranges them nicely onto a tray with aluminum foil on top, pushing it into the preheated oven. “And basically she’s never letting me touch her car again,” he sighs while staring into midair dreamily, flashbacking to last Friday when you immediately Ubered yourself all the way from campus to downtown after picking up his call. All he got was thirty seconds of affection; you made sure that he’s not hurt and the rest was just a monstrous tantrum. He ended up sleeping on the couch that night.

“My my, you two are just like an old married couple,” Hyunjin chuckles lightheartedly and shakes his head, scrolling through the series of texts in amusement, “What even is this? I swear your conversation consists of 60% ‘when are you going home?’, 40% ‘your lunch is here’ and 20% terrible cat memes.”

“We’re roommates,” Minho drags the word through gritted teeth, holding back all the murderous thoughts inside his head because he feels like Hyunjin’s just asking for a death wish. It’s too early for this.

Unexpectedly, Seungmin decides he’s in a pretty good mood today since he aced his OChem pop quiz yesterday; meaning, he’s gonna stick his nose into his friend’s business whenever there’s a chance. “Don’t you guys share a bed too?” he pretends to play dumb only to receive a kick in the shin from the older boy.

“We’re also broke,” Minho cranes his neck tiredly, washing the dirty knife under the tap. “Besides, the heater in the living room sucks.”

“You both even smell the same, it’s getting kinda creepy. Please don’t tell me you guys also share showers to have a light water bill,” Jisung makes a gagging noise and Minho thinks he’s already said too much. His grip on the knife tightens for a split second before letting it drop into the sink. He doesn’t trust himself with anything sharp the moment Hyunjin started this unwanted conversation. He also regrets stealing Changbin’s meal prep recipes to feed his trash friends.

Minho questions callously, “We just use the same shampoo and shower gel, what’s the big deal?” His hands go for the box of oatmeal that Felix left here last time in the cabinet full of random food. He doesn’t get why Seungmin would buy so much groceries like he’s in a pandemic knowing damn well that his idiotic roommates can’t cook for shit.

Hyunjin purses his lips, trying to prove his point, “Don’t you think that it’s weird? You don’t do those things with us.”

“Because none of you would fucking house me when I was on the verge of being homeless!”

“And why is she yelling at you through texts anyway? Bro, there’s like ten missed calls here with at least a hundred ‘where are you?’. Why is she terrorizing you this early in the morning?” Minho immediately snaps out of his semi-angry trance, chest heaving up and down.

“Oh shit,” he facepalms himself. “I promised to pick her up at ten from class, what time is it again?”

“You’re fifteen minutes late, my friend,” Jisung supplies unhelpfully. “It’ll take another ten to arrive at campus, without traffic that is. You’re so dead. D-E-A-D.” It feels weird to hear something correct coming out of Jisung’s mouth (twice in a row) and now Minho wishes he could just whack his friend unconscious on the floor with the new set of microphones that Chan gave him last year for Secret Santa.

“Oh, I left your rice sitting at ‘warm’, by the way,” Minho makes a grab for his biker jacket and helmet on the counter before fleeing out of the apartment with his sneakers half-way tucked in. It’s not even been thirty minutes since they’ve seen each other for the past week and Jisung’s already choked on water, not once, but twice because of Lee Minho. Sometimes he wonders if the universe is telling him that he needs new friends.

two.

“Your boyfriend is late.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss at Yeji while staring at Minho’s contact on your phone anxiously. There’s no reason for you to be; worst-case scenario, you can just take the 0325 home and lock him outside for the night so that he’ll have no choice but to endure Chan’s embarrassing sleeping habits. He wouldn’t even notice either way because he’d be too busy swearing in his sleep to be annoyed.

Yeji puts her hair up into a ponytail after stretching her limbs tiredly. She only has one class today and no choice but to stay on campus for her shift at the café before lunch break. Too bad Woojin can’t cover her today because of midterms. “I’m only speaking facts,” she tells you with a yawn and notices the slight pout on your face. “Hey, don’t be sad just because your stupid boyfriend can’t pick you up. I can call Chaeryeong if you need a ride here and there, she wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not fucking sad!”

“Y/N, you look more depressed than Ryujin when she got a B+ in calc.” That’s irrelevant, Shin Ryujin already has a GPA booster after signing up for Kim’s stats class, one B+ won’t make it any less sparkly.

You only let out a prolonged sigh after checking your phone for the tenth time in the past half an hour. He isn’t picking up any of your calls, your messages probably can’t even reach him and now you’re sitting at M.I.A Cafe with a cup of plain water after standing outside at the front gate for so long like an idiot. An idiot, who’s hopelessly in love with her roommate- wait what?

Listen, you already know that this is going to happen. It’s awfully inevitable and it’s getting harder and harder as the days pass by because summer is almost here. Meaning, Minho’s gonna move out soon, according to the contract.

Are you sad about that?

Yeah, kinda.

The more you think about it the more you regret your decision that day to let him stay with you. Because now you don’t think you’d be able to sleep without him next to you, hogging the blanket all to himself; you get angsty when he’s not home even if he’s just at dance practice; you’re definitely getting way too used to sharing an earphone with him while you both are dreading your assignments silently at the kitchen counter. And now you’re getting nervous just because he’s thirty minutes late. He’s never late, not even to your Monday Movie Night where you both can pig out and binge-watch the Avatar: The Last Airbender series until you’re sick of it.

Maybe you’re relying on him too much. Hypothetically speaking, it’s not his fault for the damage of your car but you’re just making excuses to be with him. You even set him as your emergency contact. It’s kinda tedious to be your roommate, you realize. All of those things aren’t mandatory and he can simply mind his own business without having to feel obligated because of the ‘roommates’ label yet he’d still choose you, over everything else. Perhaps he’s dealing with his own first world problems and forgot to leave you a message this time.

Yeji inquires breezily, wiping a cup dry with a towel, “Also, are you going to BamBam’s party this weekend?”

“For me to carry your ass home after getting shitfaced and sit through another two-hour lecture from Lia? I’ll pass thank you very much.”

She indicates with a quirk of her perfectly dark brow, “What if I tell you that Minho’s gonna be there?” Now she sounds like she’s the one who’s crushing on Lee Minho and not you. Never knew that your friends can be this creepy but the more you learn… “Jisung just told me he found a plus one aka Mister Celebrity to attend that frat party with, you wouldn’t have the heart to let me be the loner right?” she pouts with her nose scrunched and it reminds you too much of Light Fury so you look away, knowing that you wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance if she kept this up.

“How is that my problem?” you merely roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. “And also, isn’t Jisung supposed to have his marketing class now?”

Yeji doesn’t give a damn about what on Earth Han Jisung is doing with his life so she just brushes your question off. “Would you let Minho drink irresponsibly?”

You nod without hesitation, though it feels wrong coming out of your mouth, “He can do whatever he wants...as long as my carpet remains clean after his hangover.”

“Would you let me drink irresponsibly?”

“The same goes for you,” you tell her monotonously. “And I only picked you up because Lia sounded like she was hyperventilating when you attended that one law brat’s birthday party. Na Jaemin, wasn’t it? Hate that guy, by the way.”

Yeji thinks it’s time for you to open up even more and not despise people that much. Having Lee Minho as your roommate is already a huge step-up but it’s not like there have been any modifications to your routine except the fact that another human being is simply enduring your bitchy ass of a loner. She wants you to be really out there, just not messing with shit like doing keg stands because Seo Changbin is a terrible influence. Woojin once had to drop his shift at the sushi place to drive Jeongin home because Changbin left him hanging on the beanbag chair for a game of beer pong. Jeongin has never gone to another single party since.

“You hate literally everyone!” Yeji’s getting impatient, you can feel it.

“Are you telling me it’s my fault that people are shitty?” you bark, massaging the sides of your temple tiredly. You wish you could just drop the entirety of your current presentation to Yeji because your brain cells are already evaporating one by one into thin air.

She barks back, merely sneering, “C’mon! Y/N, it’s not like you ever have plans for the weekend.”

“But I’m having midterms on Monday, I didn’t spend my time on those notes for nothing.”

She shakes her head at you almost in disapproval. Sure, you’re a coward for backing out on this because BamBam’s no stranger to you. That Thai kid has been hanging out with Chan since middle school and he always offers to buy you coffee whenever you happen to drop by as they’re working on a project together. He’s a nice guy, but you don’t know him that well. Something in your gut is telling you that he has weird friends (he totally does). And you’re not about to overdrink only to blurt out an awful confession to Minho while being surrounded by a bunch of crackheads that aren’t in your social sphere.

“I heard kids are vapi-” Yeji stops herself, thinking she should just give up, and get ready for the next batch of sleep-deprived customers coming in at lunch break before Jeongin chucks an avocado at her direction for chit-chatting too much about your gigantic crush on Minho. “Nevermind, it’s not like you’d care anyway, have fun with reviewing I guess.” And with that, she leaves you alone with the cup of plain water to dump the used coffee grounds in the trash.

It takes you at least ten seconds to comprehend what she just said. And you’ve come up with a new yet very last-minute decision: screw midterm because you’re making sure that Lee Minho’s going home in one piece.

Very timely, your phone buzzes on the wooden counter.

[10:38 AM]

lino | hey you still on campus?

three.

The blush scattered across your cheekbones just grows ten shades darker when you see Minho at the front gate leaning against his black Kawasaki; disheveled hair, hands stuffed inside his pockets, occasional puffs of smoke escaping his lips, and unbothered gaze. You’ve never told him this, you’re not telling him this now, and you’re never gonna tell him; but he looks stupidly good in that biker jacket. Again, you don’t get how someone can look this good early in the morning.

“What are you doing here?” you murmur grimly, approaching him from behind. It feels like he’s doing this to your heart on purpose, without even trying. And those girls over there are making you very uncomfortable by eyeing your roommate up and down like he’s an expensive piece of steak with a gold leaf sticking to it.

Minho turns sideways and flashes you a smile; your little heart just did a perfect cartwheel because of that, it can only take so much. “Sorry, I kinda lost track of time, but I still promised to pick you up, didn’t I?” he says casually as your face morphs into a deep frown because you’re basically confused. The only problem is: you don’t even know why you’re confused. There’s this fluttering feeling at the pit of your stomach and now you feel as though someone just gives you a blow to the head when Minho looks straight into your eyes, brows slightly knitted together.

This is not healthy.

“You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”

Minho thinks you look cuter than usual when you’re silently fuming because you’re not the type to lash out on people. But it’s not so cute anymore when you threatened to flush his AirPods down the toilet that one time when he spilled ketchup on your carpet. He just hopes he doesn’t end up sleeping on the couch tonight like last time.

“I put my phone on silent, as always,” he reminds you of how much of a pain in the ass it is to receive a call-back or a simple reply from him.

You make a face, “Whatever, didn’t I tell you not to make a scene? Have you seen those chicks back there? They’re watching me as if I’m sabotaging their dreams of eating you alive.” Well, you can’t exactly blame your roommate for having girls gushing over him wherever he goes because...it’s his fault for looking like a snack all the time.

Minho quickly detects how you’re not overly fond of his admirers and needless to say, he’s fairly amused. “Then let them,” he puts an arm over your shoulders and pulls you flushed against him, ruffling your hair. Moments later, you’re already hearing scandalous gasps along with hushed whispers going through your eardrums like a never-ending train. It’s really setting your nerves on fire.

“Don’t you think that this is weird?”

“What?” Now it’s Minho who’s confused here.

You slightly push him away and avert your gaze elsewhere to avoid eye contact. “We’re roommates, right?” you mumble, slightly unsure about...all of this.

“Hmm, what about it?”

“Well, I don’t know…” you fiddle with the hem of your jacket and sigh. “What if people keep getting the wrong idea about us?” You sound somewhat regretful as if your decision of taking him in as your roommate was a mistake, as if you feel like it’s better off if he wasn’t in your life at all, as if the past month was completely meaningless. Since when did things become this complicated? It started with a harmless one-month contract and now Minho’s not sure of what he should do next. But that’s not it, is it? Maybe he’s just overthinking too much.

He looks hesitant for a moment there, very not-Lee-Minho of him. “We’re still cool right?” Minho tilts his head to the side, the afternoon sunlight slips through fluffs of white clouds and brings the constellations in his warm brown eyes to life. Though he looks like a scolded child, you can’t help but want to put this moment into a frame and simply cherish it for the rest of your life.

“Beats me,” you breathe out, silently hating yourself for not being able to get angry at him. It’s harder than you thought, really, and it doesn’t help when his eyes keep doing that thing to your poor little heart. “Make me pasta and we’re good,” you end up chuckling when Minho’s expression turns a solid three hundred and sixty at the offer.

“That’s not a very smart move for a business major, your loss,” he replies with a goofy smile, tossing the helmet that he got you yesterday in your direction. And if you pay attention enough, you can almost see Minho exhaling out of relief. But you’re too busy staring at the ground to douse yourself in your own giddiness to notice. “Oh crap, I think I left my wallet at Hyunjin’s,” he tells you after swinging a leg over on his shiny vehicle.

You narrow your eyes at him, “You don’t need your wallet to make me pasta now do you?”

“By the way, are you going to BamBam’s party?”

“Only if you’re going,” you scratch the bridge of your nose with your ring finger, a little embarrassed to admit that he’s the only reason why you’re ditching midterms.

Minho’s hearty laugh fills your eardrums, shit-eating grin and all. “If it makes you feel better, Chan’s driving us,” he voices without looking at you, but your chest still swells either way.

You fucking hate how you have the softest spot for him.

four.

You’re already regretting this although you’ve only been sitting in Chan’s back seats for less than twenty minutes. Crankiness takes over your body as a result of reviewing for the whole afternoon, your eyelids are getting droopy, and your head seems to be all too big for your neck at this rate. More reasons for you to not drink tonight.

“Ugh, why am I even here?” you groan, and Jisung scrunches his nose, slightly alarmed because you’re not usually this loud unless you’re high on caffeine.

Minho tells you in the most lighthearted way possible, “Because you love me.”

You wish you could just put his head through a wall because everything and anything coming out of his mouth are never healthy for your mind, or heart. “Uhm, no I don’t.”

“But you did confess your love to me,” he singsongs as if he just hit a jackpot with his lottery ticket, angling his head to toss you a wink. “I have receipts, ma’am. They’re right here, in my heart.” Minho’s never seen you so giddy before so he recorded everything, but he’s not planning on putting himself on a chopping block by telling you that.

You shove his arm and purse your lips, flaming cheeks but the car’s too dark for him to see it. “I was sick, asshole, I talk shit more when I have a fever than when I’m drunk,” you defend yourself helplessly, not enjoying the fact that he had to bring it up when you’re in a confined space with Seo Changbin and Han Jisung.

“Minho doesn’t like it when Y/N raises her voice.” Great, now he’s talking in third person.

“What are you even? Four?”

He winks at you, “Baby me, baby.”

“Oh my god shut the fuck up and get away from me!”

“You’ll never get rid of me, baby.” Eventually, you give up because you’re too mentally exhausted and there’s still a long night ahead of you. You’re not wasting your energy in pointless arguments with him because you both yell at each other on a daily basis anyway.

“Maybe he’ll zip it if you tell him that you love him,” Jisung suggests innocently with a not-so-innocent look on his face. He’s already acting dumb when he’s this fucking sober so you’re not looking forward to two hours later when vodka’s practically replaced his own blood.

“I’d rather chew off my own foot.” Changbin snorts involuntarily at your stiff remark, Chan mutters a small ‘ouch’ while Jisung’s too busy laughing his ass off. And a demeaning silence descends after that.

Minho’s right next to you, oddly unresponsive to the situation, his head leaning against your shoulder as he gazes dejectedly out the window. You don’t see how stormy his eyes are. He also misses his motorcycle tremendously because Chan’s the safest (slowest) driver to ever exist. No joke, if he keeps going at the pace of thirty miles per hour then you should just skip the party and watch a movie while getting drunk at his place altogether.

“Can you go any fucking slower?”

“Excuse me?” Chan laughs in disbelief, he’s a little offended because he personally thinks he’s a good driver, maybe a little bit too obedient when it comes to the law. Hey, at least you know you’re in good hands. “I’m not trying to get us all killed before BamBam could poison one of you guys.”

Jisung purses his lips as he’s reminded of the last party where he ran into that Thai dude. He gave him a plastic cup, telling him that it’s merely a harmless fruity vodka only for Jisung to get kicked out by an Uber driver after throwing up in the back seats. Turns out, the lemons and oranges in the cocktail were relatively spoilt.

“I’m gonna die from boredom before we could even get into a car accident,” Minho informs him unconstructively, staring at some random notifications from Instagram of people commenting on his cats’ photos, text messages from his mom and swipes them all away. Mostly to chuckle to himself like a moron because of his lock screen. Yes, your stupid face is still on there after three weeks and you don’t know if you should be crying or laughing.

Chan narrows his eyes at the rear-view mirror, “It seems like you’re entertaining yourself just fine by looking at Y/N’s face.”

“This photo does make me laugh because it’s priceless,” the younger boy states without turning his head to look at you. “But still, bored.”

The car grows silent again soon after because Chan’s already been stressed out enough from traffic since clearly, people can’t drive to save their own lives. But it’s not like your friends can keep their mouths shut for the rest of the trip anyway.

“Boreddd,” Minho voices randomly while a J.One’s song is blasting through the speaker. It’s a terribly soft song and it doesn’t help when Minho feels like he can downright sleep through an earthquake, potentially falling into an enormous crack on the Earth’s surface and still being able to nap like there’s no tomorrow. He’s just glad that Jisung grew out of ‘Wow’ and embraces his awkward self through his own music. It’s..sentimental but what’s a J.One song without that element?

Changbin looks up from his phone for half a second, wholly uninterested. “Then shut up and sleep,” he says expressionlessly. Very timely, his most recent track comes up next on the playlist and he starts rapping along with it. Minho thinks he can really use a good eye shut as SpearB is performing live right behind him because Changbin can only stay sober like this for so long until he gets his hands on one of BamBam’s sketchy-looking concoctions.

You’re starting to get bored too at this rate because usually, during times like this when the car is filled with nothing but music and everyone (except for the driver) feels like they’re falling into a food coma, a certain idiot will—

“Y/N, don’t you have a midterm on Monday?” Ah, there it is.

Jisung bends himself forward and drapes an arm over the leather seat, scrunching his nose at the sight of Minho sleeping soundly against your shoulder. He’s still bitter about the fact that Minho refuses to drive anyone other than you with his motorcycle for some reason. Exclusive things are always so annoying.

You exhale deeply because Jisung reminds you of that one kid who always asks questions that stress the hell out of the teachers back in high school. Would it kill for him to just shut up once in a while?

“I do, and I haven’t got a wink of sleep since yesterday afternoon,” you tell him rather lazily, shifting when Minho snuggles himself closer to you, his hair tickling your jawline. You pray he doesn’t know how fast your heart is beating. “A little alcohol might spare me a night of crying myself to sleep.”

Jisung lets his bottom lip stuck out like he’s a fucking five-year-old not allowed to get his favorite ice-cream flavor. “Aww, you should have asked Minho for cuddles then, pretty sure he’d be more than happy to—,” he remarks sarcastically and you wish you could just throw him in the middle of an intersection. He’s lucky because Minho’s a heavy sleeper or he would have been knocked senseless or something. The last thing Chan needs is being forced to pull over for having wild animals wrestle the shit out of each other in his vehicle.

“Hey, fuck off,” you snarl at him, knowing you should have chosen the passenger seat instead. That way, you wouldn’t be fuming inside because you can’t physically strangle Han Jisung to his imminent death. He has already tattooed that image into the back of your brain and you swear you’ve never heard a creepier chuckle from your friend.

Jisung notices the coral tint on your cheeks and sneers, leaning back against his seat. “Yeah right, as if you’re actually gonna get drunk,” he says snarkily. “You’re just gonna be there to prevent Lee Minho from making bad decisions.”

“I decided to come because Yeji wanted me-“

“Yeji who? In what world will you have time for her when you’re too busy staring at Minho like a total creep? Wanna bet ten bucks?”

That’s bullshit because Lee Minho is already your entire world.

Chan butts in, “Make that fifty.”

Changbin raises his hand, “I’d bet my Tesla.” Your friends really spelled out ‘a bunch of fucking clowns’ in bold, gigantic capital letters and you’re this close to facepalm yourself against Chan’s steering wheel. This is why you don’t go to parties with them that often because you’re stuck with cleanup duties with Seungmin until these crackheads grow out of their amateur drinking habits.

“You’re just jealous because he would rather call you an Uber than give you a lift himself,” you say pointedly and Jisung lets out the loudest, most scandalous gasp. So dramatic.

“You,” he jabs a finger at you, eyes wide in accusation. “Need a nap.”

You laugh dryly, ignoring the urge to snap a picture of his flabbergasted expression and turn it into a new meme for your group chat. “You don’t say, Han, you don’t say.”

And Changbin rolls his eyes over the moon, vividly picturing where this disastrous conversation is gonna go. Basically, he wants you to get shitfaced as soon as you step foot into BamBam’s house so he’ll have a sappy, drunk confession video to toss on Twitter tonight because Woojin just posted a picture of him with a drumstick dipped inside a glass of what looks like a watered-down Margarita. He’s highly concerned since there hasn’t been anything juicy on his feed other than his friends creeping people out with their questionable content.

“If you two don’t end up getting drunk and kiss, I’m gonna be pissed,” Changbin says casually as if it’s just an afterthought. This prompts you to chuck your phone in his direction—you can care less about your screen protector at this point if it means stopping him from taunting you further.

He asserts like a snake, “Hey, remember that time where you tripped over Kkami and totally crushed Minho under your weight?”

“I blame gravity for that.”

“But Albert Einstein said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”

“Who cares about Albert Einstein?!” you whisper-shout harshly, cautiously eyeing Minho’s sleeping figure. He scrunches his nose and murmurs something that you can’t quite hear before turning over to face you completely. His arms unexpectedly slip underneath yours like second nature. He furrows his eyebrows occasionally, other times he’d be grinning like an idiot and his lips are slightly agape, full eyelashes framing his eyes beautifully. Sometimes you wonder how weird his dreams are whenever you caught him talking (and cursing) in his slumber.

Changbin wants to pry aloud when you start staring at Minho for too long; he might as well be tossed on the freeway at this point before exasperation squeezes the little amount of oxygen left out of his chest. This is worse than Hyunjin’s terrible rom coms. He props his head onto his hand in boredom as Chan pulls over and turns off the engine. “Hey we’re here, why not wake your prince up with a kiss—”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” you threaten.

Now there are two distasteful tattoos at the back of your head. And you will not hesitate for a heartbeat sacrificing the entirety of your bank account to get them removed. To get Lee Minho removed from your mind.

If only it were that easy.

“Mhmm,” the figure beside you lets out a low grunt and hugs your arm closer instinctively. His warmth seeps through the fabric of your denim jacket and sets your heart on fire. You’re ready to flick his forehead any second now to interrupt his slumber but before you could even do anything, Seo Changbin aggressively opens the door and you widen your eyes in horror. Where the fuck did he get a megaphone? And what for?

“Bitch wake up! Those drinks aren’t gonna finish themselves!”

It’d be a miracle if you ended up finding him alive by dawn.

five.

“Y/N you ass, give it back!

“No, we’ve only been here for three hours and this is your fifth cup already,” you tell her in a mildly serious tone before dumping her cup of whatever the fuck of a yellow substance that Ryujin gave her ten minutes ago into the sink.

Yeji plops herself onto the sofa in the living room after you drag her out of the kitchen where people are making out on the marble counter. Glad to see nothing’s changed...idiots. “God, you’re such a party pooper, I shouldn’t have told you to come,” she complains in between small hiccups, alcohol tinting her cheeks beet red.

“I’m here to save your ass and this is how you’re repaying me?” Your question didn’t come out as coherent and threatening as you imagined and every single cell inside your body is shaking for no specific reason.

Your friend narrows her eyes down into a mere glare like a detective in those crimes shows that you spend way too much time on and you’re debating whether you should be laughing or pissing yourself. She fucking knows that you’re lying. She fucking knows the sole reason for you to be here. “Give me a break, it’s not like you’re doing anything besides staring at your boyfriend from afar,” Yeji scoffs dejectedly.

“God forbids ‘Lee Minho’ and ‘my boyfriend’ go in the same sentence,” you grit, subconsciously averting your gaze around the living room to spot your roommate. All he’s been doing is being held back by Chan when he tried to murder Changbin once, catching up with his old friends from high school and hanging out with some of his classmates, ranting about how much he dreads Kim’s eight AM, gushing with Hyunjin over some senior’s choreography set. By the looks of it, Jisung must have handed him at least seven of those red party cups from the bar—thanks to BamBam who keeps restocking them every hour.

Yeji chuckles creepily when the alcohol finally hits her hard, you think you just got chills by the way that she’s leaning closer. “Of course not,” she hiccups into your ear, words slurred, “Lee Minho’s not my boyfriend, he’s your boyfriend.” You look at her in the eye, and mentally regret your life choices. How insufferable.

“I mean, seriously,” she slams her body back onto the couch and groans; you can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or the cushion is too soft for her back. “It’s like you’re living the life of the main protagonist in a Harry Styles fanfiction! Do you know how many girls and boys would kill to live in the same apartment as that?” Her index finger is pointed directly at the person you’ve been watching and avoiding all night, across the room with a dart in his hand as he stands in front of the dartboard.

“Were you aiming for the board or were you plotting to kill me? Because I can’t tell! I-can’t-fucking-tell!” Changbin shouts over the music and you momentarily cringe at the crack in his voice; it’s never a college party without one of your friends riling each other up over the dumbest things. And also, who thinks it’s a good idea to lend an unstable Lee Minho a sharp object of any kind?

You look away as heat flares through your nostrils when Minho accidentally glances at you after laughing at some corny joke that Chan made. He’s more than mildly hammered right now, you suppose, because, well, Chan can only make people laugh when they’re exceptionally drunk.

A stupid question then slips out of your lips. “With what?” It sounds like you only have one brain cell and are perpetually dumb. It makes you feel even dumber when there’s nothing but a can of Coke inside your body.

“A hottie who dances, cooks, has a good sense of humor, lowkey a genius, highkey a tsundere, shares a name with a famous actor. Far more handsome than the actor himself, if I dare.” Yeji has no hesitation whatsoever naming every reason as to why people on campus shamelessly throw themselves at your roommate on a daily basis. And now your head grows ten times fuzzier, floating mundanely in the clouds above. Basically, you feel like you’re drunk—except your confidence isn’t sky high enough to do something stupid—which makes no absolute sense.

The silver-haired girl next to you puts an arm around your neck and giggles, you’re highly perturbed that her vocal cords are gonna give in tomorrow when she convinces you through FaceTime that you should be extra careful with your notes since she won’t be showing up to class. “Oh! And he has three cats, right? Cat people are said to be more intuitive and thoughtful, that’s a bonus,” Yeji asserts and your jaw is on the floor at this rate. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance during lunch break and she already knows this much?

No wonder Minho never talked about his cats with Felix and Seungmin again.

“I bet you read that off a Buzzfeed article.”

“Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s wrong!”

You inhale and exhale deeply, linking your fingers together, “Yeah, but that’s all people will ever see.”

“Well, what else can they like about him?”

“I don’t know,” you say bluntly, but the rouge on your cheeks is anything but ‘blunt’. “They don’t see how stuck-up he is, how he loves hogging the blanket all to himself, how he secretly stocks up a stash of trashy snacks. They don’t see the way his eyes sparkle when he looks into their eyes during a conversation because he’s actually a very attentive listener.”

Yeji pats your back without turning her head, slightly amused, “I think you meant how he looks into your eyes during a conversation.”

Your eyes scan the room one more time to find Minho hugging his stomach from laughing too much, there are actual tears in his eyes because Changbin just lost a bet and apparently he has to belly flop himself into the pool as a punishment. You haven’t seen him this happy in a while, even when he’s potentially dying from a really bad stomachache but it still puts your heart at ease knowing he’s having fun tonight.

Needless to say, he always knocks the breath right out of your lungs without much effort. Even when he’s ditched the leather jacket and ripped jeans, you still think no one looks better than him in a large t-shirt and sweatpants.

“But I don’t get it,” Yeji looks over at you this time, real carefully because your tone just grows firmer and more serious. “How can he just stand there, laugh...and look so beautiful?”

“I told you—”

“Yeah that’s exactly what I need to hear right now, Yeji,” you facepalm almost immediately, highly disappointed in yourself.

Jisung’s getting his ten dollars on Monday when you surprise him with two slices of cheesecake from his favorite dessert place. Changbin can keep his Tesla and Chan...Chan isn’t getting anything.

You push yourself off the blue velvet couch and groan, you’re getting sore quickly because the cushions are far too soft. “Let me get some fresh air, I feel like I’m gonna to lose my mind,” you tell your friend but you doubt that she caught it since the music is all too loud for students to communicate properly. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why fistfights during parties are a thing.

“Uhm, wait,” Yeji tugs onto your sleeve and jerks her head towards the direction of Minho. “I’m sorry but what the hell does your boyfriend want now?”

“Huh where—“

Like..three feet away. Or a whole lot closer.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” And you find Minho standing in front of you with his arms crossed stubbornly, eyebrows knitted together and tinted pink cheeks. He looks a little pissed off, and you don’t think you’re both on the same page here.

When you give him a ‘what do you mean’ look, your roommate feels the need to unlock his phone and jab his index finger against his poor crusty screen as he shows you at least fifty messages that he’s been spamming in the last half an hour. This reminds you of the yellow Post-It note that Minho violently smacked onto your fridge the very night when he first moved in.

‘I hereby fucking declare that if we did end up going to the same party (doubt btw), we would keep our phones with us 25/8 so one can save the other’s ass from stupid decisions— lee minho’ he wrote. Minho knows all too well the only ass that needs to be saved is his. And you’ve thought about taking the note down several times but you don’t think you’d have the heart to.

“Oh,” your head draws a blank canvas and you look for your phone in your pocket. But then, “I left my phone in Chan’s car.”

Minho rolls his eyes at you and decides that he’s too impatient to wait for Chan to sober up and remember where he left his keys. “Whatever,” he manages to crack a small smile, one that shines through the dimmed LED light on the ceiling and makes your heart stuck in your throat. “Let’s get out of here, I have something to tell you.”

“Hey hey hey,” Yeji tries to get up from the couch but her limbs are too wobbly. “You can’t just tap out all of a sudden and steal her from me like that. Don’t even think for a minute you second rate—”

“Yeah, no, she’s mine.”

You’re downright baffled. But you’re not sure if it’s because of what he said ten seconds ago and your heart is going haywire, your brain cells are giving in on you or it’s because he’s tugging you by the wrist and piloting you through the impending chaos of sloppy college students.

You’re not sure if you want to know. You’re not sure if you’re ready.

six.

Fall arrives sooner than you thought and it almost makes you miss summer. Though you didn’t really have anything exciting besides an internship that refrained you from living on YouTube for too long.

The evening is oddly cold, but you’ve never had a problem with the tips of your fingers growing chilly. It’s different tonight—it’s the kind of coldness that slips through your flesh and into your bones, coming in contact with the thumping force of your heart, causing it to shiver. There’s nothing to do but keep your gaze straight forward, your feet moving on their own with the one and only goal of heading home. Clouds with the murky color of wet ashes pass by, and the ground as its dank reflection—a reminder of how humanity is ruining the planet.

The streets are so quiet and tranquil; you’re afraid that Minho might be able to hear your heartbeat. Now you’re pointing a finger at society in accusation because it’s the weekend yet no elder couples are taking their night strolls, no middle-aged ladies in fluffy jackets are walking their spoiled teacups dogs and no wasted college students are roaming the streets with ‘trouble’ spelled out on their forehead. Really, you’d rather stare at people in a creepy way and zone out than constantly thinking about Lee Minho when he’s right beside you.

This is terribly suffocating and you don’t think if you can keep this up in the next thirty minutes until both of you get home and melt into the comfort of your bed.

“Sober up, Mister Celebrity, that’s too much fun for tonight.” Minho winces slightly when you press a can of cold green tea against his cheeks as he’s about to doze off on the wooden bench next to the vending machine. While he’s taking a swig, you feel a silent obligation to take a seat but your eyes are determinedly fixed on the curb.

The bench suddenly feels far too big and the night breeze is far too cold for Minho’s liking, so he shifts his body closer, fingers brushing over yours and sending electricity down your spine. “What do you mean?” he scoffs, finding it hard to not look at you so his gaze is temporarily glued onto the can of green tea in his palms. “Tonight was nothing compared to Jisung’s birthday.” He can still feel the remaining warmth from your hands, it makes him wonder how it’d feel to actually hold them.

“Ugh, god,” you shake your head in disbelief, internally cringing. “Don’t even remind me.”

You still don’t know what Hyunjin fed him that day to the point he couldn’t remember what happened. All hell broke loose Felix posted a video of him pretending to be a stupid ostrich and trying to do a mating dance towards Jisung on Twitter. No one dares to talk about that scarred video since. Now that he’s reminded you of it, you wish you didn’t own brain cells in the first place. This is why the internet is scary.

“What is it that you wanted to tell me anyway?”

Minho stops for a second at your question and places his beverage down on the bench. He stares distantly at the space ahead as if he’s fighting with himself inside his own head, seriously contemplating something. It’s come to your attention that this isn’t very like his usual self. Minho never hesitates for a second when he has something in mind. Even when he knows that you might rip his head off.

He exhales deeply, turns his head, and makes direct eye contact with you for what seems like an eternity. His eyes are as wide open and honest as a child’s, they possess something so much more the longer you stare at them. A warmth, safety. Your heart is gonna combust if he doesn’t get this over with soon.

Then, “I think I forgot to put yeast in the batter.” Wait what?

“Minho!” you punch his arm, earning a low grunt from the blond-haired boy. “Don’t fucking scare me like that!” He’s looking at you as though your eyes are turning red with rage and smoke is coming out of your ears, scared for his own life but truthfully, you’re just relieved. Surprisingly.

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” he asks you with a wide-eyed expression, trying way too hard to keep a straight face. “Aren’t we supposed to bring homemade bread for the get together at the nursing home tomorrow?”

“Old people still enjoy Bingo for some reason, they can have that instead of bread.” His mouth forms a small ‘o’ as he scoots closer to you and you can tell that he reeks off alcohol, which is making you a little dizzy. When your gaze falls elsewhere but Lee Minho, you attempt to appear casual, “But if you wanna bake so badly, I can still pull an all-nighter and start over with you.” That was doable, but you could have done better—should have sounded like you didn’t really care.

Minho flings his bangs away from his face and tosses his head back, chuckling breathlessly. “Don’t you have a midterm to stress over instead of me? I don’t want you to pick out every single strand of hair on your head after baking with me.” He finally said something nice once in a while, you sorta appreciate it. “It’d be embarrassing when my parents FaceTime me and see you as bald as my great grandfather.” Nevermind, he’s still the same old jerk.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you’ll be moving out in two weeks, either way, right?” Your tone sounds sad and grim all of a sudden; it really dampens the atmosphere because Minho is now looking at you with concern laced in his brown eyes. “Look, I get that it’s bothersome to be my roommate so there’s no need to feel bad. I’ll be fine going back to my old life where my feet don’t get cold in the middle of the night because no one would be there to hog the blanket anymore.”

Minho feels the need to clear things up here. “I never said anything about moving out,” he grabs you by the shoulders and hopes you could just look at him when he’s being serious for once. “Y/N, who even said anything about moving out? Was it the landlord?”

“No,“ you say, still not willing to face him directly. You’re such a coward.

“If so, why would I move out? Did I do something wrong? Did I piss you off or something?”

You’re trying so hard not to snap at this point. “No!”

“Then why can’t you just fucking look at me?!”

“You’re still drunk, let me buy you another—“

Minho shakes you forcefully, hoping to knock some common sense into that brain of yours. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not drunk!” he cries helplessly, not caring about the fact that he’s waking up every cat possible in the neighborhood. “Just- just look at me, will you?”

You stubbornly keep your eyes anywhere but him. “Why would I look at your stupid face?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You’re not usually like this.”

Every single cell inside your body quivers simultaneously when he says so—good god, no, he’s testing you. Minho knows something’s off. Now to think about it again, you’d rather let him dirty your carpet than being put on trial like this.

“You wanna know why I’m acting like this? It’s because of you! You’re making me nervous! It’s your fault for making me feel this way!”

“What?” he blurts, eyes blinking numerous times in disbelief. “What did I ever do to you?”

“God, Minho, you can’t possibly be this dense. Tell me, that you’ve never, not even once, seen me turning beet red when you simply look at me in the eye. Or when you’re just sitting there, laughing your ass off about something stupid. It makes my heart flutter, okay? You make my heart flutter. Do you know how much of an effect you can have on me? You don’t go around juggling with others’ feelings like that,” your voice grows smaller and smaller towards the end until there’s nothing but an oddly comfortable silene floating midair. A sense of relief washes over you; you unknowingly exhale.

Minho stares at you in awe for a moment there, until he also speaks up for himself. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he almost snickers, and this causes you to peel your gaze away from a random bush to gawk at his response. “You’re telling me to not go around juggling with others’ feelings? If anything, you’re the one who keeps messing with my heart. What am I supposed to do? Not get drunk so that I won’t be able to get away for doing dumb things?”

“What dumb things?”

“I don’t know, kiss you?”

“Fuck, you can’t get away with it this time now, can you?”

You’re already regretting this and there’s no turning back. Because when Minho subconsciously runs his tongue over his bottom lips, you’re already fighting the rouge spreading on your cheekbones. He shortens the distance between your heads until your lips are practically a breath away from his. Impatient, you grab a fistful of his shirt to smash your lips against his. Minho stays frozen for a nanosecond, taken aback by your boldness before pulling you closer by the waist. You’re hesitant at first, but he guides you through it, telling you that it’s okay by embracing you more tightly. Dear god, Minho’s kissing you and the world just falls away. It’s slow, comforting in ways that words can never be. He slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, smiling into it when giddiness bubbles up inside his stomach.

The world still feels like it’s spinning when he parts away, an alcoholic taste mixed with the green tea ghosts your lips, and your face grows ten times hotter. Even in this cracked darkness, Minho sees you blush hard and is fully aware that his cheeks are mirroring yours—he doesn’t even bother to convince himself that it’s from the alcohol, because it isn’t.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Minho questions though his breath is still a bit shaky from the kiss. He really didn’t lie when he said that he could never stop bothering you.

You can’t help but smile at him brightly; this causes his heartbeat to spike inside his chest. “Well, do I have to?” He shakes his head and stares down at your hands until he musters up every strand of courage left to finally intertwine them with his own. Fits like a glove.

“Come on, let’s go home,” he tells you softly, eyes crinkling into a pretty crescent moon shape. But you stop him right there when he attempts to stand up and wordlessly lean your forehead against his. Minho understands that you simply need a moment so you both hover right there, simply melting into each other’s touch. But what you say next just makes the ignited passion inside his heart flare-up. He’s at a loss for words, utterly speechless.

“I am home.”

“Welcome home then, Y/N,” Minho whispers.

Everything feels like a dream that you’d never want to wake up from. His hands are clasped on either side of your face, resting just below the lobes of your ears. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks so that you won’t drift away, your breaths mingling. Never before has your own name made your heart flutter. But you guess it’s only because Minho said it. You do know that it’s not an afterthought, nor out of impulse. It’s a promise, for whatever’s coming your way on this path, he’s never gonna leave you behind. And the moment he feels that thing beating inside his chest is in sync with yours, he slowly leans in again.

Albert Einstein once said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love. And you have every right to argue with him in the afterlife because you’ve confirmed that Minho is your gravity. Gravity keeps you grounded, always get a hold of you so that you won’t ever have to wander off too far away. It’s there for you but it doesn’t have to act like it cares. Minho’s kinda like that too—he picked you up every time you said you’re good walking home, he only stocked up the stash of candies to secretly feed your midnight cravings. They only differ so much where his heartbeat for you is loud, undaunted and he loves you fearlessly; nothing shall meddle with his feelings for you as long as the way your eyes light up when they meet his doesn’t change.

Before you met Minho, you didn’t know that it was possible to just look at someone and smile for no reason. The way his lips curl up when he smiles, his sarcastic remarks, his kindhearted nature though he’s awfully good at hiding it. That’s what people do when they’re in love, they say—to fawn over the littlest things but they’re what makes you fall so hard for him. But as time passes by, you’ve learned that it’s actually quite nice to be in love with someone. Because then, you get to spend your time and effort on their happiness as well, not just your own. In exchange, that person is capable of bringing colors to your dull world, tearing down your walls, and showing you just how beautiful life can be. Surely, Minho might not stay by your side forever in this crazy game of Monopoly but you’d risk it all for him even if the sky comes crashing and the universe turns upside down.

After all, you can’t love alone.

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